He handed Riley the bottle, vaguely surprised by her politeness. But then again, attitude or not, she was Will and Noelle’s daughter. He watched her dump it over her French fries. “Like to have one French fry with your ketchup?”
She made a face then nodded. He took the bottle when she was finished, doing the same thing with his own plate. “Me, too.”
It earned him a studiously bored look.
Annie had ordered a salad. She stabbed her fork into it, moving lettuce and chunky vegetables from side to side, but not seeming to eat any of it.
“So, what did happen when you left Bendlemaier?”
She didn’t look up from her salad. “Not a lot.”
“How come you don’t still live on Turnabout, if you came from here?” Riley dredged a fry back and forth through her pool of ketchup.
“I had a job that took me elsewhere.” It was true enough, though hardly the entire truth. He had the sense that Riley had only posed the question to keep him from asking more questions of his own to her aunt. It struck him as oddly protective.
“What kinda job?”
“Riley, it’s none of our business.”
He shook his head at Annie’s protest. “I became a spy.”
“Yeah, right.” Riley rolled her eyes and scooped up her dripping French fry, licking her fingers afterward.
“Okay, I’m a consultant,” he said dryly. The lie had always been more palatable for people than the truth—even if he’d dared to share the truth with anybody who mattered. Even his associates had a hard time stomaching it. There were a lot of agents who worked for Coleman Black, the head of Hollins-Winword, in many capacities. But there was need for only one clean-up man.
“Consultant for what? Who?”
“Did you pick up that questioning technique from your dad? I always figured if he hadn’t wanted to be a lawyer, he’d have made a good cop.”
The teen wasn’t fooled. “That’s not an answer.”
“What happened with your law degree?” Annie finally spoke.
“I stuck it in a closet where it’s gathered a lot of dust.” He smiled grimly. He did practice law. Just in a manner most people didn’t want to be aware of. He’d felt that way himself many times. Until recently, though, he’d always been able to shake it, and get on with the job at hand.
A young woman with a white towel wrapped around her hips stopped by their table. “Anything else I can bring you?”
Logan shook his head. Riley sat back, her arms crossed. She’d eaten her ketchup-drenched fries and half her hamburger. Annie—who hadn’t eaten even half of the salad, smiled up at the waitress. “I think we’re fine, Janie. Thanks.”
The waitress moved away. She hadn’t been the one to serve them their meal.
“Who’s the girl?” he asked, watching after her. “She looks familiar.”
Annie followed his gaze toward the departing waitress. “Janie Vega. She helps Maisy out when things are busy. She’s actually a stained-glass artist, though. Has her own studio on the island.”
“Vega?”
Annie nodded. “I suppose you knew Sam Vega? She’s his younger sister.”
“I went to school with Sam.” Janie had been a baby back then.
“He’s sheriff now.”
Logan shook his head, truly surprised at that. “When we were young, Sam wanted off the island worse than I did.”
Annie toyed with her water glass. “When Sara said she hardly ever heard from you she wasn’t joking. Otherwise you’d have known he was the sheriff.”
Riley huffed again. “This is too old for words. I’m outta here.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll go back to your house or something.”
Logan watched Annie’s face. A dozen expressions seemed to cross it. Everything from alarm to reluctance to resignation. She passed her keys to her niece. “You can watch the shop until I get there.”
Riley slowly took the keys. “You trust me?”
“You’re not planning to go anywhere else, are you?”
Anywhere else like running away again, Logan interpreted.
“No.” She turned on her heel and strode out of the dining area. Logan watched her go, calculating how likely it would be for her to get off the island if she’d been set on doing so. He’d already talked to Diego Montoya who—as he’d suspected—still ran the only ferry on the island, only to learn the old man was already on the watch for Riley Hess. If the girl were to try to leave, she wouldn’t be able to do so on Diego’s boat. And fortunately for Logan’s current purposes, the other residents of the island seemed to have held to the strange tradition of not owning any kind of water-craft more sophisticated than a dinghy. Only a fool would attempt the crossing in that small a craft.
When Riley was gone, Logan looked back to find Annie watching him. She set down her fork and pushed aside the salad with an air of finality. Her expression was unreadable. “Riley was right. Will did send you. I wasn’t aware that you two were even in touch anymore.”
“I was in Olympia and happened to look him up. He told me Riley had run away.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Happened? Quite a coincidence. And how perfectly convenient that your consulting job allows you to head off to little-known islands whenever it suits you.”
“I’m between assignments right now.” It wasn’t often he found himself feeling defensive, and he’d be damned if he knew why he did now. His answer was true enough, though. Except he didn’t know how he could stomach another assignment after the last FUBAR. He’d told Cole that he’d needed a break, which was how Logan came to be helping out on what should have been a straightforward runaway case. Except that Will hadn’t been the one to ask him to help out. It had been Cole. Turns out his boss and Will had some dealings with each other. Dealings he hadn’t known about until now.
Despite that, however, Logan didn’t necessarily trust his boss to leave Logan to his task if his particular talents suddenly became necessary again. Cole’s priorities were simple. Hollins-Winword—and all that it stood for, all that it protected—came first.
Annie’s lips were pressed together. “Your job—whatever it is—doesn’t really matter, anyway. Will should have come after Riley himself.”
Logan didn’t necessarily disagree. Another argument he’d had with Cole and Will. “Your brother didn’t want Riley doing something even more drastic.”
“She threatened to run again if he came after her.”
“I heard.”
“But she needs to go home.”
The fine line of her jaw looked tight. In fact, everything about Annie looked tight. Uptight. It wasn’t a demeanor he’d have expected her to wear. “Is she causing you difficulties?”
“No. No, of course she isn’t.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but didn’t.
“Has she told you why she left home?”
“Riley doesn’t confide in me.”
He frowned. “Come on, Annie. Riley didn’t just run away and disappear. Fortunately. She came to you.”
Annie shook her head. She fiddled with her fork and spoon, neatly aligning them. “She’s just curious about her black-sheep aunt who is odd enough to live on a small island.”
Black