In The Line Of Fire

She hurried to the door and shot into the vestibule where she ran headfirst into Fran Celtenham, another volunteer whose contribution to the center was about as indefinable as Molly’s. Fran was in her sixties. She was a widow, a retired civil servant, who worked hard to organize the kids into doing occasional community-service projects. She also ran a bingo program on Monday nights—not just for the kids but for any Mission Creek family who cared to join in. Attendance was sporadic, but she never stopped trying.

“Ron hired a new guy,” Molly blurted without even greeting the woman.

“Yes, I know. On Friday.” Fran smiled at her benignly as she started to step past.

Molly caught her arm. “No, I mean, he hired him.” She held up her hand and rubbed her fingers together to show that money was changing hands. Then, finally, Fran’s words registered. “What do you mean you knew?”

“Ron told me.”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“You weren’t here on Friday.”

That was true. Molly rarely missed a day, but she’d had to testify in court on one of her arrests. “Everyone knew but me.”

Fran patted her on the shoulder before she continued into the gym. “Don’t take it so hard, sweetie.”

Exactly what Danny Gates had said, Molly thought. She stepped outside into the drenching downpour, disgruntled. In seconds her hair was flattened to her skull. She put her head down and trudged to her car.

She was halfway home before she realized that she’d hardly thought of Mickey or her birthday at all today.

The man standing in front of the long ebony desk practically vibrated with anger. “Are you out of your mind? You approve of this?”

“I think it’s a brilliant move.”

“Letting her on the task force?”

“Think about it. She was sticking her nose where it didn’t belong, anyway. She found Ed Bancroft. Think of the trouble we’d have on our hands if she’d gotten to him before his, ah, demise…if he had talked to her.”

The man was silent, but his eyes narrowed with consideration.

“We need her where we can control her and keep an eye on what she’s up to,” the second man said. “We can’t have her running around sleuthing on her own like that.”

“She’s smart. She has big-city experience. It’s a risk. I just don’t like it.”

The second man shrugged. “It’s a risk we’ve been instructed to take. We’ll minimize it by having her work the task force on her own hours. That’s your responsibility, to wear her out with her regular patrol duties so that her participation with the task force is limited. And have someone keep an eye on her when she’s in that war room. Try to have someone get close to her to keep track of what she’s thinking, what she’s decided she knows.”

“I’m not some damned baby-sitter.”

“Yes,” the second man said. “You are.”

“One week,” Jerome said. “He’ll be all over her like white on rice. Did you see the way he was eyeing her?”

“I’ll take that bet. How much?” Fisk asked.

“Twenty bucks.”

“Twenty and my diamond stud says she decks him when he tries.” Cia touched a finger to one of the many piercings in her left ear. “Molly’s tough.”

“She’s still a chick,” Lester said. “And he’s got the moves down. My Starter jacket says she wraps herself all over him when he finally gets around to it.”

“I’ll take that.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

High-fives were exchanged, then the subject of the conversation headed in their direction. The kids began to disperse.

“Whoa,” Danny said. But he had to pull his mind and his eyes off the door to address them. Molly French could make one hell of an exit when she had her dander up.

It might have been six years, but he knew a rattled woman when he saw one, Danny thought. He was inordinately pleased with himself for the achievement. Damned if he didn’t still have the knack.

He waved a hand in greeting at an older woman who came through the gym doors Molly had just flashed through, then he brought his attention back to the kids. “What were you guys just betting about?”

“Who says we were betting?” Lester challenged.

In response, Danny high-fived the air and touched a finger to the earring he didn’t have. He was gratified when they exchanged wary glances. “Been there, guys. So spit it out. What’s the bet?”

“Nothing,” Anita muttered. She was a pretty black girl who paled in comparison to Cia’s looks and she seemed to know it. Danny felt something in his heart go out to her.

“Nice tattoo you’ve got there,” he told her.

Her eyes shone with gratitude. She held up her wrist. An inked chain of ivy and roses encircled it. “You like it?”

“Wouldn’t want one, but, yeah, it looks good on you.”

“Thanks.”

“Where’d you get the kind of money to pay for something like that?”

Her eyes shut down. He’d known they would.

“None of your business, man,” Lester said, protecting her.

“Yeah, well, see, that’s where we’re going to have a problem.” Danny put the basketball on the floor and sat on it, resting his arms on his knees, looking up at them now. “I’m not going anywhere, and I’m going to keep asking questions.”

“Don’t mean we got to answer you,” Anita said.

“Nope. You don’t. But trust me, I’ll wear you down after a while.”

“Who are you?” Lester was getting agitated.

“My name’s Danny. I’m the guy the rec center hired to teach you kids the game of basketball.”

“Molly plays with us,” Cia said.

“Correct. Molly plays with you. I’m going to teach you basketball. There’s a difference.”