Dirty Work (Stone Barrington 9)

“Why not?” Stone asked. “We may get lucky.”

“I don’t get this lucky,” Dino said. “You get this lucky. Anyway, if we catch her, she’s going to kill at least one cop before somebody shoots her.”

Stone didn’t comment on that.

“Remind me,” Dino said. “How did I get mixed up in this?”

“There was a murder on your beat,” Stone said.

“Oh, yeah. Next, you’re going to remind me that I had her in custody and let her go.”

“I wasn’t going to, but, of course, that’s true.”

“I’m going to be lucky to get out of this with my badge.”

“Dino, all you have to do is blame it on the Brits and the FBI.”

Dino brightened. “Yeah, you’re right.” He tapped his driver on the shoulder. “Right here.”

Dino and Stone got out of the car. “You take the east side of the street, I’ll take the west,” he said to Stone. “Are you carrying?”

“No.”

Dino handed him a .32 automatic. “Take my backup.”

“Thanks,” Stone replied.

The two men began walking south on Madison. It was well after dark, but there were still a lot of people on the street.

Stone looked carefully at every woman he saw, looking for something familiar. She may have already changed clothes, he thought, but he might be able to recognize her. Then, half a block away from him, walking slowly uptown, he saw her. She wasn’t wearing gloves, but her dress was black, and her hair shoulder-length and dark. The face? He couldn’t tell; each time he had seen her she had looked so different. His hand closed over the gun in his pocket. She stopped and looked into a shop window for a moment.

Stone looked across the street at Dino and nodded toward the woman. Dino began making his way across Madison Avenue, through heavy traffic, not waiting for the light.

Stone walked up to her. “Excuse me, haven’t we met?” he asked.

She turned and looked at him. “No,” she said with a little smile. “But I certainly have no objection.”

Dino stood directly behind her. “Miss,” he said, “I’m a police officer. Please stand perfectly still.”

She looked over her shoulder. “What is this, a gang bang?”

“Let me see some ID,” Dino said.

Stone grabbed the bag before she could reach into it, then handed it to Dino, still looking into her eyes.

She looked back, with interest. “So, this is how the NYPD amuses itself in the evenings?”

“When the weather’s nice,” Stone said.

“What’s your name?” Dino asked, looking at the driver’s license in his hand.

“Donna Howe Baldwin,” she said.

“Social Security number?”

She recited it. “But you won’t find it on my license. They don’t do it that way in Florida.”

“Why do you carry a Florida driver’s license?” Dino asked.