Night Shield by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online Page B

female’s the prime target. What’s a woman carry in her purse?”
    “That,” Hickman said, “is one of life’s most complex mysteries.”
    “Her keys,” Ally continued. “Her wallet—with ID, credit cards. Pictures of her kids if she has them. None of the victims had children at home. If we break this down to its basic element, we’re looking first for a pickpocket. Somebody with good fingers who can get what he needs out of a bag, then put it back before the victim knows she’s been hit. Do an imprint of the key, make a copy.”
    “If you pick the pocket, why put the stuff back?” Hickman asked.
    “Keep the victim unaware, buy more time. A woman goes into the bathroom, she takes her purse. If she reaches in for her lipstick and doesn’t find her wallet, she’s going to send up an alarm. This way, the house is hit and the perpetrators are out before the victims get home. Whatever time they get home.”
    She turned back to the board. “Twelve thirty, one fifteen, twelve ten and so on. Somebody at the club alerts the burglars when the victims call for their check. Somebody’s on the inside, or a regular and repeat customer. At Blackhawk’s the average time between calling for the check and leaving the club was about twenty minutes.”
    “We have two other clubs involved now, besides Blackhawk’s.” Kiniki’s brow furrowed. “We’ll need stakeouts on all of them.”
    “Yes, sir. But Blackhawk’s is where they’ll come back. That’s the money tree.”
    “Find a way to cut down the tree, Fletcher.” He got to his feet. “And take some personal time today. Get some sleep.”
    *  *  *
    She took him up on it and curled up on the small sofa in the coffee room, leaving word that she was to be notified when the reports she was waiting for came in.
    She got ninety minutes and felt very close to human when Hickman shook her shoulder.
    “Did you steal my cheese bagel?”
    “What?” She pushed herself up, shoved back her hair.
    “You like cheese bagels. I had one. It’s gone. I’m detecting.”
    Shaking off sleep, she dug her clip out of her pocket and pulled back her hair. “It didn’t have your name on it.”
    “Did, too.”
    She circled her shoulders. “Is your name Pineview Bakery? Besides I only ate half of it.” She checked her watch. “The first-on-scene reports in yet?”
    “Yeah, and so’s your warrant.”
    “Great.” She swung to her feet, adjusted her weapon harness. “I’ll be in the field.”
    “I want a cheese bagel back in that box by end of shift.”
    “I only ate half of it,” she called out and stopped by her desk for the paperwork. Scanning it, ignoring the backwash of noise from the detectives’ bull pen, she hitched her harness into a more comfortable position, then shrugged into her jacket.
    She glanced up when the noise became a murmur, and watched her father walk in. Like Blackhawk, she thought, this was a man who created ripples.
    She knew a few of her fellow officers harbored some resentment over her rapid rise to detective. There were mutters now and then, just loud enough for her to hear, about favoritism and oiling the ranks.
    She’d earned her badge and knew it. Ally was too proud of her father and too secure in her own abilities to let mutters worry her.
    “Commissioner.”
    “Detective. Got a minute?”
    “A couple.” She pulled her shoulder bag from her bottom desk drawer. “Can we walk and talk? I’m on my way out. Got a warrant to serve on Jonah Blackhawk.”
    “Ah.” He stepped back to let her pass, and his eyes scanned the room. If there were any mutters, they would wait until he was well out of range.
    “Stairs okay with you?” she asked. “I didn’t have time to work out this morning.”
    “I think I can keep up with you. What’s the warrant?”
    “To confiscate and view Blackhawk’s security tapes. He got pissy about it yesterday. I seem to put his back up.”
    Boyd pushed open the door to the stairwell, then angled his head