Free Lover's Lane by Jill Marie Landis

interviewing clients, tracking down official documents, appearing as an expert witness in court, his childhood sweetheart had taken a liking to banging the doctor she worked for.
    No spontaneity? If she could see him now.
    “I’ve got rental applications in the car,” Glenn told him. “Fill one out and get it back to me before you leave town. In the meantime, I’ll try to contact the owners, though I may not be able to get a hold of them until Monday.”
    By Monday, Jake was due back in Long Beach. He decided to cross that bridge when he came to it.
    “While you’re at it, Glenn, tell them I’ll have to make some major repairs in order to move in. I’ll save all the receipts and deduct the cost from the rent.”
    He could tell Glenn thought the place was uninhabitable. The realtor wouldn’t have to stretch to convince the owners the place should be unloaded immediately.
    By the time they headed back to the car, Jake knew he’d waited long enough to mention Carly Nolan. He was careful to snap the seat belt in place and give it a tug first. Glenn had barely closed his door before he started barreling back down Lover’s Lane.
    “Last night I visited Geoff Wilson’s gallery and met an artist whose work I really admire. Maybe you know her? Carly Nolan?”
    “Carly? Great gal. In fact, she’s a friend of ours. Her son Chris plays on our boy Matt’s T-ball team.” When they hit a pothole, Glenn was forced to concentrate on the road but kept right on talking. “Carly lives down in Seaside Village. It’s an old mobile home park on the beach around the point. She’s a pretty private person, keeps to herself, but the boys are best friends. Since they’re both only children, Tracy makes sure they have play dates together.”
    “How old are the kids?”
    “My boy’s almost six. Chris has to be about the same age.”
    Suddenly Glenn hollered, “Off road!” and veered into the high weeds. “I never get a chance to put this baby in four-wheel!” They bumped along for a few yards before he turned back onto the gravel road again. “Carly’s job keeps her pretty busy. I only see her at PTA meetings and T-ball.”
    Listening to Glenn, Jake had to hand it to Caroline Graham.
    She could have sought out the anonymity of life in the city, but here, her identity was guarded by locals who thought they knew her and regarded her as a friend. Because they knew her so well, they never suspected her of being anything but what she claimed.
    The truth was, they didn’t really know her at all.
    Forty-five minutes later, Jake sat in the park enjoying the sun, watching an old man in a baggy, worn sports coat feed the gulls on the bluff. The birds had begun to gather at the first rustle of a plastic bag filled with stale bread.
    Jake took out his cell phone and punched the office memory number, waited for Kat to pick up.
    “It’s me. What’s up?” He imagined her at her desk, un-smiling, leaning back in her chair, feet on the windowsill, tennis shoes wiggling as she stared out the window overlooking the water. He’d watched her do it countless times.
    “I did surveillance last night on Penny Burger’s husband.” She sounded sarcastically gleeful. “She was right. He’s having an affair.” Kat never tired of exposing adulterers.
    “Did you get photos?”
    “Does a frog fart in a pond? I’ll call her and set up a meeting as soon as I get the prints back.”
    “Have the Kleenex ready.”
    “You bet. I got a fresh supply at Costco.”
    It wasn’t just the job that had made them both cynics in regard to fidelity. Jake hadn’t just been burned by his significant other, he’d been fried. He guessed Kat had been, too.
    Kat was barely twenty-eight and thoroughly convinced happy marriages existed only in romance novels. Suspicious husbands and wives were occasionally proven wrong, but the percentage of mistaken suspicion was low. The only truly happily married couple Jake knew was his sister Julie and her husband, Terry