Wasted Heart (Special Edition) Read online

  Wasted Heart

  Lynn Galli

  Also by Lynn Galli

  Imagining Reality

  Uncommon Emotions

  Blessed Twice

  Full Court Pressure

  Finally

  WASTED HEART

  Special Edition published by Penikila Press, LLC

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions of the publisher.

  Copyright © 2010 by Lynn Galli

  All rights reserved.

  Original Edition published in 2006

  Cover photo © 2010 iStockphoto.com

  All rights reserved. Used with permission.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored by any means without the express written consent of the publisher. For information address Penikila Press, LLC, 4917 Evergreen Way, Ste. 439, Everett, WA, 98203

  Published in the United States of America.

  Chapter 1

  Being a lesbian in Seattle sucks. Let me amend that: being a lesbian in Seattle who’s in love with her married best friend sucks. To be fair, I should say: being a lesbian in love with her best friend who’s married and doesn’t live in Seattle really sucks. Of course, that’s why you moved to Seattle, moron. Now, shut up and deal with the Seattle lesbian scene.

  “Austy!”

  Or deal with it after you get off work. “Yeah?” I spun around from staring out my fifth floor office window of the federal courthouse. Another lunch hour shot to hell.

  “Crimeny! I’ve been trying you on the intercom for ten minutes,” Short Stack bellowed from my office door. Not that his raised voice and agitated state was unusual office behavior for Kyle Hammer, hence the nickname. Perspiration beads dotted his wide, pale forehead and red splotched his cheeks, but I doubted it had anything to do with his current mood. He had the kind of frame that exerted great amounts of energy just walking, or stomping, rather, around the office and courthouse.

  “We’re allowed a lunch, you know,” I responded calmly. Staying calm was often the only way to get through one of Short Stack’s bellow sessions.

  “You’re in your office; that means you’re working through lunch. Next time, leave the building.”

  “It’s pouring rain outside, and just because I’m here doesn’t mean I’m working through lunch.”

  “I know you’ve only been here a few months, but this is Seattle. It’s always raining outside.”

  That’s right, why the hell did I move here? Oh yeah, the best friend lives in Virginia, so you moved here to get away from her. Only not all the way, since she’s in Seattle a few days every month. God, you’re pathetic.

  “What do you need?” I asked as politely as someone who really needed a lunch break could ask.

  “New case, international software copyright infringement. There’s some corporate espionage thrown in for your enjoyment, too. Chief wants someone who can relate to the whole computer geek thing to deal with it. Since you did so well with the last one, I’m afraid you might catch all these techie claims from now on,” he reported in a less than remorseful tone. For five months, he’d been trying me out in every unit of the Criminal Division. Looks like he might have finally decided on Complex Crimes for me.

  He raised up the file and flicked his wrist, sailing it perfectly onto the center of my desk. Every time I tried that the file opens, all the papers fly out, and someone ends up with a paper cut or poking an eye out.

  “Goody,” I sighed, my palm landing flat on top of the spinning file. One more to add to my pile of open cases. Assistant United States Attorney, whose stupid idea was that? Crap! It really sucks being in love with your best friend. Married best friend. Married best friend who has a great partner. Married best friend with a great partner who lives in Virginia—most of the time anyway.

  The intercom buzzed again officially signaling the end of my attempted lunch break. With a grunt, Short Stack swung himself into motion and clomped down the long hallway toward his own office. A superb benefit of being the new hire was that I got the office farthest away from “the action.” I’m not sure I’d still be here if I had to listen to Short Stack up close every moment of the day.

  I pressed the flashing red button of the insistent intercom. “Yeah?” Eloquent, I know.

  “Austy, Elise Bridie here to see you.”

  “Who?”

  “Your one o’clock.”

  “No, my one o’clock is Jake Nichols.” I clicked on my calendar to double check that I was meeting with Jake at one. So, I’m anal retentive, deal with it.

  “She says she’s his replacement.”

  “What?!” I shot out of my seat as if a snake just slithered across my lap. This could kill my case. Jake was scheduled to be on the stand in two days on a huge corporate fraud case, my biggest since becoming an AUSA. How could my FBI agent skip out on me? Not that it was all that surprising. My luck as an assistant commonwealth attorney in Virginia hadn’t been much better.

  “Are you coming out here to get her, or should I slap a visitor’s badge on her and send her in?” The receptionist, Mary, always kept a calm demeanor with the office staff, but she let a little sarcasm slip through with some of us. I’m not sure anyone but me appreciated it.

  “Good thinking, especially since Short Stack’s already in a mood. Send that unescorted visitor into the office,” I joked.

  “An unescorted, armed visitor, no less. Two minutes? Or should I tell her to get comfy out here?”

  Hell, send her back. I don’t care, I thought for a self-destructive moment. If Short Stack doesn’t kill me, maybe she’ll turn out not to be FBI and take us all out with her weapon. Instead I said aloud, “Two minutes.” Always the prudent one, that’s me.

  An avalanche of pleadings on my desk taunted my obsessive compulsive tendencies to the point of wanting to set fire to my office to avoid looking at the mess. For two weeks I’d let them creep ever closer to my chiseled out workspace. With the announcement of my visitor, I gleefully succumbed to the OCD and shuffled them into an orderly pile in my inbox. I’d probably regret the hasty decision to tidy up without sorting them properly, but company loomed. No time to think about anything other than the fact that the guest chair currently acted like a valet for my still wet overcoat and needed to be freed up for its intended purpose. And nothing short of six months of trials could make the file boxes lining the back wall disappear. A magician would help, but since we didn’t keep one on staff at the U.S. Attorney’s office, I’d have to continue creating my own illusion that they didn’t exist until my courtroom labors fulfilled the hope. It sucks being a lesbian in Seattle who needs to work eighteen hours a day to keep the file boxes from engulfing her.

  Swinging my discarded suit jacket on, I headed out to the lobby to escort my unexpected one o’clock. I’d have muttered all the way out there about my bad luck in getting a replacement FBI agent the day before opening statements, but as I found out in my first week here, the U.S. Attorney’s office doesn’t appreciate nor embrace mutterers. Maybe I had time for a quick online check of one-way ticket prices to Virginia. I could get my ACA job back in Charlottesville where they’d let me mutter all I wanted. Oh, that’s right, best friend, in love with, married, great partner—lesbian suckage!

  I rounded the corner of the paralegals’ maze of cubicles and into the clerks’ concourse hidden from view of the lobby by the attorneys’ mail boxes. Once the security door swung open, I stepped behind the receptionist’s d
esk. Mary glanced over and raised a two fingered wave as she spoke softly into her headset while staring down at the telephone equivalent of Battleship. All those red lights made it look like most of her ships were sunk.

  Two attorneys who annoyed me by constantly quoting South Park in staff meetings stood chatting in the lobby. A dazed looking man sat in a comfy chair staring at a rather beautiful, brunette woman directly opposite him. Another woman sat on the couch facing the receptionist, one leg crossed over the other, bouncing like someone kept hitting her patellar tendon. One of the chatterbox attorneys nodded his head in my direction, necessitating a smile on my part. His eyes immediately went back to focusing on the woman sitting across from the dazed man. His cohort made an obvious move of turning to stare at her as well. Perhaps she wasn’t wearing any underwear, and they were hoping for a Basic Instinct moment. More likely it had to do with the fact that she was as stunning as a movie star, and even without flashing her crotch, most men would be mesmerized. I like women; I should be mesmerized. Damn! Married, Virginia-living, best friend.

  I walked up to the leg bouncing woman. “Hi, I’m Austine Nunziata. I guess you’re my new computer science expert? What happened to Jake?” The bounce stopped so she could stare blankly at me. Perfect, quick on the uptake, she’ll make an outstanding expert witness.

  “He had a death in the family and took a short sabbatical to deal with the estate.”

  Poor Jake. I’d have to remember to send him a condolence card. The news startled me enough that I didn’t immediately realize that Bouncy-Leg hadn’t opened her mouth. A ventriloquist? That so wouldn’t go over well with the jury.

  To my right, the object of my colleagues’ ogling stood from her seated position. First in my class at Maryland, and I just now realized that Gorgeous was my FBI agent. Let’s not even mention third in my law school class at UVA. What was I saying about being quick on the uptake?

  I turned with a sheepish smile. “Oh, sorry.” I figured that would cover both my reaction to the news of Jake’s loss and my gaffe at assuming that Impatient Bouncy-Leg was FBI.

  “Elise Bridie.” Her hand came up to shake mine.

  “Austy Nunziata.” I mechanically took her hand. God, it was soft and snug and just a wishful guess: skilled.

  “You prefer Austy?” She still gripped my hand while her almond shaped, green eyes traveled up from our joined hands to meet mine.

  “Either.” I reluctantly pulled back from the handshake, baffled by the shock I’d felt at her touch. Not static electricity shock, more like distress laced with embarrassment at assuming the plain, impatient woman in the bad suit had been FBI. Sticking with the theme of uncomfortable remarks, I brought up a mandatory request. “Listen, I know this won’t sound trustworthy or even polite, but—”

  She didn’t wait for me to finish, fishing into her suit jacket for her FBI badge. Gorgeous and a mind reader: dangerous combo. I waited for her to ask to inspect mine, but she probably figured if I came in through the locked office door, knew the receptionist and the attorneys, I must belong here. Satisfied that Elise Bridie was genuine FBI, I gestured back toward the security door. She fell into step beside me as I swiped my ID badge to gain entry to the back office.

  “Please have a seat. Can I get you some coffee?” I offered when we got to my office, pausing for a response before moving to take my own seat behind the desk.

  “No, thank you.” Elise looked around the cramped quarters, taking in all the contents before pausing to enjoy the view. “Nice office,” she commented.

  Had her eyes not flared at the vista, I might have guessed she was being facetious. Yet even at half the size, the panorama of Elliott Bay straight ahead, the Monorail tracks amid downtown to the left with just a glimpse of the Space Needle to the right made it enviable.

  “Yes, I’m still getting used to it,” I admitted before I realized what I’d disclosed.

  Elise twisted her head back from the windowpane and focused intently on me. “Either you’re new to the area, or you’ve been given a promotion?” She tilted her head, and a cascade of sunlit molasses covered her left shoulder. A sly smile that pulled the right side of her mouth farther than the left accompanied the pose after a wordless moment passed. “Of course, I should know better than to draw conclusions based on very little evidence.”

  My surprise swallowed the sure mirthful huff that would have escaped had we not just met. She’d let me off the hook when she’d nailed me on both counts. Gorgeous, mind reader, and good at her job: triple threat.

  To keep from tipping my embarrassment at her accuracy, I refocused our attention. “We should get to work. Have you had a chance to review the case?”

  Thankfully, she lifted her head out of that captivating tilt before she replied. “I read through the file and went over Jake’s notes. I have a few questions.”

  “That’s why we’re here.” I opened the witness file folder in case I somehow forgot any of the facts committed to memory in preparation for the trial tomorrow. We did cover me being anal retentive, didn’t we?

  For over an hour, we walked through the case specifics and what she’d offer as testimony. She was more concise than Jake, more fluent in techie jargon, and definitely more gorgeous. Get a grip! Best friend, remember? When was the last time you found someone attractive? Let’s see, oh yeah, since falling for your best friend. Sensing a pattern here, moron?

  Red digits glared at me from the wall bookcase, indicating that I only had fifteen minutes until the all-staff meeting. “Unfortunately, we’re going to have to wrap this up for now. I’ve got another meeting soon. How are you feeling about your testimony?”

  She nodded in acceptance. “Pretty good. Thanks for your patience. This can’t be easy on you having to break in a new witness so close to trial.”

  This time the mirthful huff leapt from my mouth before I could stop it. That mind reading thing of hers was maddening. “Actually, you’ve made this very easy.”

  “That’s nice to hear. Jake was right about you.”

  Curiosity seeped in, but I managed to plug it up before I succumbed. Two things I learned in law school: only answer the questions that are asked, and never ask a question that you aren’t certain you want answered. Knowing what people say about me usually doesn’t turn out well. At least, not for me.

  Her smile started slow and stretched her mouth wide. A crest of upper teeth grazed her bottom lip as she waited for me to say something. When it didn’t happen, she added, “Now, I’m thinking he should move to the profiling unit or he knows you outside of work?”

  Not sure where she was going with the question, I didn’t respond. Silence: the negotiator’s deadliest weapon, or the idiot’s best disguise.

  “Sorry, that’s none of my business. I have to say I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t jump at the chance to hear what others think of her. Especially since it’s coming from Jake, so you’ve got to know it’s complimentary. But you didn’t bite, not even a flinch. That’s remarkable.” Her green eyes danced in what I could only assume was delight at meeting such a rare bird as myself. “I’m looking forward to working with you on this and the next case.”

  “Likewise,” I replied before registering what she’d said. “Wait, is there another case already?”

  She glanced back at the file boxes on my floor and over to the mass of pleadings in my inbox. “You might not have gotten to it yet. Software copyright infringement in Hong Kong, but we may find it’s gone into other countries.”

  I started to nod before she’d finished. Short Stack’s earlier gift. I reached over and grabbed the folder that I’d cleared off my desk for this meeting. “I just got the file today. You’re working that investigation?”

  “For a while now. I plan to meet with the software company soon. Any interest in joining me? We can schedule it for Friday when you’re not in court?” She looked both hopeful and understanding, not an easy expression to pull off. And she looked unbelievably attractive. If only I didn’t have that love t
hing for my married best friend who lived 3,000 miles away.

  With two mouse clicks, I checked Friday’s availability. “Sure, end of day?”

  “Which for you means…9:00 p.m.?” She slid into that slow, sexy smile again.

  I should be insulted that she thought I worked my Friday nights away. If it weren’t pathetically true and she wasn’t so damn gorgeous, I might be insulted. “Let’s say 4:00? Is it downtown?”

  “Redmond.”

  “Crossing the floating bridge on a Friday afternoon? Maybe we should find out how late the executives stay?” I joked. Even a newbie Seattleite knew to stay away from the bridges on Friday afternoons.

  “Already called. She said they’ll be there until at least 9:00. They’re in the middle of a product launch crunch.”

  A thought entered my head uninvited, but I shook it off as wishful coincidence. I opened the file folder. “She?”

  “One of the company’s owners.” Elise reached for her notepad, flipping up a few pages. She spoke right when I spotted the name in the file. “Willa Lacey, co-president for Jucundus Interactive.”

  Oh, come on! What’s with my luck today? Willa Lacey, my best friend.

  Chapter 2

  Why did saving the environment have to smell so badly? Really, someone on this bus needed a shower. One of those exposure to hazardous waste material scrub downs. I could start driving to work, but then the whole saving the environment wouldn’t apply plus monthly parking in Seattle would be more than the lease payment on my car. I could live with being Jane Metro.

  The Metro bus screeched to a halt five blocks from my place. I clambered down the stairs after two Seattle Casual gentlemen. They probably worked at some insurance company, or advertising agency, or basically any place in Seattle that didn’t have to be in court where a business dress code was still enforced. If only I’d taken a job at a regular law firm instead of the U.S. Attorney’s office. I’d get to spend one Saturday every three months sifting through the latest fashion designed to accommodate the cubicle dweller who suddenly finds himself dropped onto a hiking trail in the middle of normal business hours. Thankfully, he’s got all those pockets for his trail mix, first aid kit, and compass to facilitate his way back to the office. Or I could be like these guys and just strip the mannequin of its matching outfit to forgo the hassle of shopping altogether. Either way, business casual started here. The rest of the U.S. owed us one.