Free The Pied Piper by Ridley Pearson Page A

worked the cigarette down hungrily, arched her back and lifted her pelvis. “God, you’re something,” she whispered through the smoke.
    â€œA dinner over at your place, early to bed but not to sleep. Who’s going to know?”
    â€œWe start that, and it won’t stop.”
    â€œSo?” he complained. “What’s wrong with that?”
    She said soberly, “We agreed up front about all this, John.”
    â€œThings change.”
    â€œThis hasn’t. We’re attracted to each other. We enjoy each other’s company. The sex is out of this world—and I mean that. But we’re both Crimes Against Persons, we’re both on the task force; that’s conflict of interest. That’s a no-no. We are not taking this to the next step. Not so long as the present situation exists.”
    LaMoia felt a tightening in his throat and chest, and felt almost obliged to break something. “Bernie says the glass chips are automotive.”
    She rolled up onto an elbow and cast a knee forward. She looked like a model to him despite a few extra pounds. He would never get tired of looking at her. He had tired so quickly of the others. She smiled coyly, “You got this when ?”
    He gave her the answer required of him, “This morning, Captain.” She knew immediately that he had received the information ahead of yesterday’s four o’clock.
    â€œWell, you little shit.” She grinned widely. “I love the way you operate, you rogue son-of-a-bitch. Have I told you that?”
    He wanted a different statement of love from her, and the comment stung him in a way she wouldn’t understand.
    â€œThe glass is from a side window, not the windshield. They picked up some tiny lettering on one of the chips. Ironically, the Bureau may be able to help us trace the manufacturer.”
    â€œFord Taurus?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAnything else I should know?”
    â€œThe pollen has been passed along to the botany department at the university for analysis. If Flemming finds out and grabs the sample, there’s not much we can do. The university needs federal money. The Bureau can make up all kinds of shit to justify taking the samples.”
    â€œFlemming doesn’t need any justification. He’s going to do what he likes.” A seagull cried outside the window. LaMoia looked up to see a gray and white blur. A second echoing cry, farther away. He wondered about the Shotz baby and if she was crying too.
    â€œYeah, Flemming’s little speech,” she said to herself. “Got to respect him, though. Did you know that he worked that CEO in New Jersey found buried alive? Intelligence dug this up,” she said, meaning Boldt.
    LaMoia could feel her nervousness. He didn’t want to operate in Flemming’s shadow any more than she did.
    â€œConsulted Hale from the start of this—from San Diego on. They’d worked other kidnappings together. Didn’t bring Hale or Kalidja on until Portland, after he’d cleaned house a few times.” She added softly, “He meant what he said about walking right over us. But then again, he doesn’t know us.”
    LaMoia had not seen her like this—Flemming had knocked the wind out of her, not an easy thing to do. “Hale bothers me,” he confessed. “He’s Flemming’s hit man. He’s the one that’s going to do the damage, if any’s done. Flemming keeps himself squeaky clean. Knows what he’s doing. Fraternity types were never my favorites.”
    â€œHale is ambitious. Tough. He’s married—the only one of the three of them who’s married. Three kids. He must feel these kidnappings as much as Boldt and I do. Yet Flemming’s the one who’s all passionate about the kids. Protecting his rank is more like it.”
    â€œThat’s not how it felt to me. He meant that shit.”
    â€œHale made a name for himself with the