Dangerous Games by Michael Prescott Read Free Book Online

ahead, and you’re falling behind.”
    She thought about it for a moment. “You’re not wrong, Peter,” she conceded. “But I’ve never been any good at that part of the job.”
    “Only because you don’t try to be.”
    “Exactly.”
    He gave up. “Remember, we never had this talk.”
    “I’ve forgotten it already.”
    He gave her a skeptical look, uncertain whether she was ribbing him. “It’s your funeral.” He was less personable than before. Evidently he’d decided she wasn’t worth sucking up to, after all. “Let me show you to your workstation.”
    Down the hall was the C-1 squad area, home base of Criminal Squad One, a large room crowded with rows of workstations. Several were occupied by agents she didn’t know, talking on the phone or studying the screens of laptop computers. A secretary, bending over a file cabinet, was the only other woman in the room.
    Larkin led her to a workstation in the back row, where a stack of papers was waiting. “Here you go. Your homework assignment is all ready for you.”
    “Homework?”
    “We set up a tip line on the Rain Man. We’ve got, let’s see…” Each tip was numbered. He flipped to the bottom of the stack. “Two hundred thirteen call-ins here. We need someone with experience to go through the data and prioritize it.”
    “No one’s done that already? How many bodies are working this case?”
    “Over two hundred, and yes, someone has prioritized the earlier tips. These are just from the last twelve hours. The day crew turned them in a half hour ago.”
    “And I got elected to go through them because…?”
    “The ADIC specifically requested that you handle the assignment.”
    “He’s a prince. Shouldn’t the squad super be doing it? Or the case agent?”
    “Sounds like you’re trying to get out of a work detail.”
    “I’m just trying to understand the logic of putting me in charge of reviewing this information when all I’ve read so far is the report. I haven’t even reviewed the full case file yet.”
    “Michaelson says we need a fresh pair of eyeballs. Namely, yours.”
    “And if my eyeballs miss anything, then I take the blame?”
    Larkin shrugged. “I guess if you were running the show, you’d do things differently. But you aren’t running the show—are you?”
    “No.” She let a sigh escape her. “I’m not.”
    He tapped the tall pile of printouts. “This needs to be done by tomorrow A.M., in time for the supervisors’ meeting at oh nine hundred hours. Oh, and Michaelson wants a summary of the high-priority tips delivered to him before the meeting.”
    “So he can take the credit for any leads that might develop?”
    “I’m sure it’s just in the interest of efficiency.”
    Tess grunted. Suddenly the coffee was tasting sour in her mouth.
    “Good luck, Tess.” Larkin flashed a smile. “You might want to order a pizza. You’ll probably be here pretty late.”
    He left the squad room. Tess sat at her desk and regarded the pile of paper with distaste.
    When she looked up, she caught some of the other agents sneaking glances at her, either out of curiosity or in obedience to the bureaucrat’s prime directive—defend your turf. No one made a move to approach her, and she lacked the energy to get up and endure a round of handshakes and smiles. Instead she got to work on the tips, reminding herself that somewhere in this compilation of gossip and paranoia there might be a genuine lead to the identity of the Rain Man.
    She worked for thirty minutes, sorting the tips into low-, medium-, and high-priority piles. Most were worthless. A few were sufficiently intriguing to justify a medium-priority rating. After combing through a quarter of the pile she’d found only two that counted as high-priority leads. It was a slow job. She had to read each tip several times to be sure she wasn’t missing anything.
    Many of the tips involved suspicious characters glimpsed in or near the LA River before one of the rainstorms. While