Free Blown by Chuck Barrett

yours."
    Moss and Hepler looked at each other. "One of ours?" Moss asked.
    "Yeah, U.S. Marshals Service." The officer stepped away from the Crown Vic and signaled his partner to remove the barricade from the road. "Ask her yourself." He waved them through.
    Little Rock police had cordoned off Rebsamen Park Road from Old Cantrell Road to Riverdale Road. The FBI ordered every establishment within that stretch closed. LRPD was instructed to have all the cars in the parking lots cleared out. Patrons of the restaurant were interviewed, statements taken, and subsequently sent home. The only vehicles remaining in the parking lot belonged to law enforcement, injured patrons taken to the hospital, or dead bodies.
    As Hepler parked the Crown Vic, Moss observed the group standing in front of the restaurant, LRPD homicide and FBI he recognized, he had worked with both before on several occasions over the past few years.
    The two deputies got out of the sedan and walked toward the crowd.
    A woman pushed her way to the front and walked briskly toward them. She had the body of a runway model, long legs and zero body fat. Her long red hair hung loose around her shoulders and blew in the breeze. She had the cougar sex appeal of a woman in her forties, but a strictly business look on her fair skinned face that could keep a man at bay. A woman tired of the government's boys club attitude. A woman who didn't want to be here. She wore a black jacket with the Marshals Service logo and a matching black cap. She looked straight at Moss when she talked.
    "I'm looking for Senior Inspector Moss."
    "Looks like you've found him," Moss said. "But I think you already knew that."
    She held up her creds, "April Moore."
    Moss looked at her credentials, United States Marshals Service, Witness Security. "Why the hell wasn't I informed about you, Inspector Moore? This is highly irregular."
    "I don't know," Moore said. "I was informed about you."
    "So it seems. This is a problem. It is outside of WitSec security protocol and until I have proper authorization, you're out."
    "I understand your dilemma, Senior Inspector," said Moore. "And like you, I'm following last minute orders as well."
    "Which office?" Hepler interjected. "Who gave you the orders?"
    Moore looked at Hepler and then at Moss. "I was assigned from the Atlanta office by Regional Chief Inspector Michael Johnson."
    "Yeah?" Moss said. "How's ole Mike doing these days? Still running marathons?" It was a trick question. Johnson never used the name Mike and had undergone bypass surgery six months ago.
    "I wouldn't know," she said. "Never met the man."
    "How could that be? You just said he ordered you here."
    She stepped closer to Moss. Her green eyes glinted under the streetlights. Her voice lowered, a sultry sound. "Inspector, two weeks ago I was a P.O.D. at the Des Moines office when I was selected on an Atlanta WitSec bid. My first day was yesterday. Tonight I was ordered here…to work with you. I don't know why, I didn't ask. I just did what I was told. The message was the Service wanted two inspectors on this investigation. I was told you used to work here and were reassigned from Chicago. I was also told you know the area, the ropes, and that you were easy to work with."
    "Ha," Hepler laughed. "Dirt Man is the biggest S.O.B I know."
    "Dirt Man?" Moore asked.
    "Inside joke." Moss checked his watch.
    "It's late, I'll have to wait until morning to get authorization. So, for now, you can ride along." Moss looked around. It was a scene packed with an assortment of law enforcement officers. "How long have you been here, Inspector Moore?"
    "Long enough to know the FBI is giving LRPD traffic management. Crowd control, that sort of thing. Strictly support." Moore paused and then said, "Inspector Moss, I was sent over here to be part of the investigation, not sit on the sidelines and watch. You're not going to pull any of that good ole boy crap on me, are you? What you know, I want to know. No holding