Internal Affairs by Alana Matthews Page A

say?
    Oh, by the way, you see that little girl who looks a lot like a cross between you and Shirley Temple? The one with the blond curls and the blue eyes and the cute little dimples? The one you said was beautiful?
    That’s your daughter, Rafe.
    Your daughter...
    Sorry I never mentioned her to you.
    “Leese? Is this a bad time?”
    Lisa pulled herself from her thoughts and smiled at him. “No, of course not. I’m just a little distracted by everything that’s happened this morning.”
    He nodded. “I can’t blame you. That’s why I’m here.”
    Lisa eyed him hopefully. “You got Oliver to back off? To promise he won’t bother me anymore?”
    Rafe’s expression said he’d done anything but. He looked crestfallen and maybe just a little angry.
    “May I come in?”
    “Sure,” she said, gesturing him into the living room. “Would you like some tea or something? Bea’s in the kitchen as we speak, and—”
    “No, I’m fine,” he told her, then followed her to the sofa.
    He looked down at Chloe decimating the coloring book and the anger seemed to melt away. He smiled. “I see she’s got her mother’s talent for art.”
    Lisa laughed. “I’m afraid so.”
    The memory he’d invoked was a warm one. In college Lisa had taken several art classes but was woefully bad at every single one of them—a running joke in their relationship. For a while he had called her Picasso, a good-natured dig and a term of endearment.
    That was something she had always cherished back then. His affection. He gave it freely and without expecting anything in return. Especially in bed. He was the most attentive man she had ever been with, and she still remembered, with great clarity, their nights together.
    Ah, but that was then and this is now. And while she felt a certain warmth from Rafe, there was also a reserved, almost professional politeness to it. Something he had no doubt learned on the job.
    She watched as he crouched next to Chloe and seemed to take great interest in her task.
    “What’re you coloring there, kiddo?”
    Chloe barely looked up at him. She wasn’t normally a shy child, but she was too busy working her blue crayon to be bothered with some stranger in a uniform.
    “A kitty cat,” she murmured.
    “A kitty cat with blue fur,” Rafe said. “I like it. I wish I could have one just like that in my apartment.”
    She looked up at him now, and as Lisa watched, her heart was breaking.
    Tell him, you idiot.
    Tell him.
    “You can have this one, if you want,” Chloe said. “He’s almost done.”
    “Are you sure?” Rafe asked. “I wouldn’t want you to miss him. And he might get lonely at my place.”
    Chloe seemed confused for a moment, then squinted at him. “Do you live all by yourself?”
    “I’m afraid I do, kiddo.”
    “Then you can be friends and he can live with you,” she said, then went back to coloring.
    Rafe smiled again, tousled her head, then got to his feet, turning to Lisa. “Where were we?”
    Trying to keep from bursting into tears, Lisa thought.
    She said, “I’m not sure. You wanted to talk about Oliver?”
    Rafe nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid things didn’t go as well as I hoped they would. In fact, it was a disaster. Your ex isn’t exactly an agreeable man.”
    “I’m pretty sure I warned you about that. Did he try to hurt you?”
    “I only wish he had. I might’ve been able to make the charges against him stick.”
    “Charges? What charges?”
    Rafe told her about his early-morning confrontation with Oliver, about the woman in Oliver’s bed, the bag of cocaine, the arrest and court, and by the time he was done, Lisa’s head was whirling.
    But she wasn’t surprised by any of it.
    Nothing about Oliver surprised her anymore. She just wished he was out of her life for good.
    “So why are you here?” she asked. “To warn me?”
    “Emphatically,” Rafe said. “I got the distinct impression that Sloan is not happy with you right now, and I’d bet a year’s salary