In Harm's Way Read Online Free PDF Page B

what the nature of this call is,” Boldt said, “I’m thinking . . . my brass is thinking . . . that we could do this . . . I could do this . . . a lot quieter if it was done over there. It being your jurisdiction, I didn’t want to wander in uninvited. And they don’t want me making the first contact because we’ve got a leak here in my department we can’t seem to find, much less plug.”
    “So I make the contact and set up an interview and you do it over here,” Walt said.
    “Over a weekend, maybe. Downtime. We have three TV news crews on us, basically twenty-four/seven, and a half dozen from radio, and both papers. Last I knew, all you had over there was a weekly. I could pretty much come and go as I please, which is not the case here.”
    “Works for me,” Walt said.
    “I don’t want to make trouble for you.”
    “Open invitation,” Walt said. “I can make the inquiries.”
    “The point being that these individuals would want this done as quietly as we do. It wouldn’t even be low profile, it’s no profile if they’re willing.”
    “They should be all over that.”
    “That’s what we’re thinking.”
    “Consider it done.”
    “I owe you one.”
    “Not yet you don’t.”
    “Thanks just the same.”
    “Leave this thing on in the evenings. When I know something, I’ll ring you back.”
    “Freaking amazing technology, you ask me,” Boldt said. “I thought slide rules were impressive.” He moved even closer to the webcam, distorting his face while trying to work the keyboard. “Thanks again.”
    “No problem.”
    The window went black.
    Walt tipped back in the chair. His father had condemned him for years for accepting the sheriff’s office of a small Idaho county, had teased him unmercifully that his cases were about bears tipping over garbage cans while real law enforcement solved real crimes. And here he was, one week past what had the appearance of a bear raiding a kitchen, and a few minutes past a phone call with a legendary homicide cop dealing with a major crime. He hadn’t realized how sweet vindication could taste.

5
    F iona picked a piece of popcorn off the leg of her pajamas and popped it into her mouth. Her feet tucked to the side, she occupied the right side of the couch next to Kira, who wore an afghan over her shoulders. The Engletons’ high-definition projector threw a six-by-six-foot image onto a screen that came down from the ceiling, making Meryl Streep’s head about four feet tall.
    “I’ve seen this at least three times,” Fiona said, between bites.
    “I love the last scene, when she’s in the car and her eyes and her smile tell you everything that’s going on and then she tells the driver to go.”
    “The best.”
    “And Anne Hathaway’s outfits.”
    “Absolutely. And Stanley Tucci at the luncheon.”
    “Makes me want to cry,” Kira said. “We should do this more often.”
    “No argument from me.”
    Fiona awaited the scene where Meryl Streep dumps jacket after jacket onto Anne Hathaway’s desk, knowing there was no dialogue.
    “I thought we should get away,” she said.
    “That sounds interesting. A weekend trip? Where to?”
    “Maybe a week or two. Yellowstone, Glacier and back. Or maybe backpacking in the Sawtooths.”
    “I thought this is like the peak of the fly fishing season. Isn’t this when you rake in the bucks?”
    “I’m tired of fishing.”
    “Since when?” Kira took her eyes off the movie for the first time.
    Fiona reached down and paused the film on a freeze frame of Anne Hathaway looking befuddled.
    “And we need to bear-proof this place before we go. Michael and Leslie would want me to do everything possible.”
    “You’re sick of fishing? Then why were you out until eleven o’clock last night? And the night before? Why did you tell me how incredible it was? Whoever you are, what have you done with Fiona? Give her back, please.”
    “Summer lasts, what, eight weeks?”
    “Max.”
    “And I haven’t taken five