SHELLEY COOPER

      first experienced the power of words when she was in the eighth grade and wrote a paragraph about the circus for a class assignment. Her teacher returned it with an A and seven pluses scrawled across the top of the paper, along with a note thanking her for rekindling so vividly some cherished childhood memories. Since Shelley had never been to the circus and had relied solely on her imagination to compose the paragraph, the teacher’s remarks were a revelation. Since then, Shelley has relied on her imagination to help her sell dozens of short stories and to write her first novel, Major Dad, a 1997 Romance Writers of America Golden Heart finalist in Best Long Contemporary, as well as many more. She hopes her books will be as moving to her readers as her circus paragraph was to that long-ago English teacher.

      To my grandmother, Martha Belle Varner, for the Easter egg hunts, sleepovers, countless games of canasta and, most important, the laughter.

      And in loving memory of Leonard Varner, who had muscles to rival Popeye’s, could ride a bike backward and always praised me by saying, “You done good, kid.”

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Prologue

      The two men met in the parking lot of a busy truck stop located off of Interstate 80 in western Pennsylvania. It was nearing midnight, and they had each traveled in excess of sixty miles to make the assignation.

      Together they entered a brightly lit diner and sat down in a small booth in the rear. From that vantage point they could keep an eye on all comings and goings.

      As the sole liaison between undercover cops and the department they all served, the men were used to meeting in out-of-the-way places. Places where they were unlikely to be seen by those they didn’t want to see them, and even less likely to be overheard.

      Neither spoke until two frosty mugs of root beer, along with two huge plates of food, each loaded with enough fat and cholesterol to guarantee a heart attack, had been placed on the table.

      “When’s he going in?” Erik Hitchcock asked after taking a hearty swallow of his drink.

      “Two weeks,” Gregory Phelps replied, spearing his sixteen-ounce Delmonico steak with a knife and fork. “Have you told her yet?”

      “No.”

      “Why not?”

      “Word came down they don’t want her to know. They think it’ll be safer for them both. If she doesn’t know, she won’t make a mistake.”

      Erik paused to take another sip of root beer, then gave a loud belch for which he didn’t apologize. “What about your guy?” he asked, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth before slathering butter and sour cream on a baked potato. “Have you told him we already have someone inside?”

      “No. I got the same word you did.”

      Both men ate in silence.

      “Know what I think?” Erik finally asked.

      “What?”

      “My girl’s from New York, right? And your guy is from Pittsburgh. He’s a hometown boy. I think the chief wants Pittsburgh to get the credit for this, not New York. That’s why he’s sending your guy in.”

      “Even though NYPD’s commissioner is his brother-in-law?”

      “Because NYPD’s commissioner is his brother-in-law.”

      “Why didn’t we send my guy in first, then?” Gregory asked.

      Erik grabbed the dessert menu and studied it for a minute. “He didn’t fit the bill for the job opening. No one in Pittsburgh did.”

      “So they had to bring someone in from the outside.”

      “Exactly. This case is extremely delicate. We send someone in, she has to be an expert.”

      “Or he,” Gregory interjected.

      “Or he,” Erik acknowledged with a nod. “Anyway, when we knew we didn’t have anyone for the job, that’s when the chief went begging to his brother-in-law.”

      “And it’s been sticking in his craw ever since?”

      “Like the ham sandwich Vinnie Turco choked to death on. That’s why, when this opening unexpectedly arose, and we had someone who did fit the bill, the chief decided to send your guy in.”

      “Two pairs of eyes and ears are better than one, eh?”

      “Especially if our pair of eyes and ears pulls off the job.” Erik looked rueful. “I have to be honest with you. I’m pulling for my girl. She’s smart, she’s good, and she’s got a great pair of legs.”

      “She’s also going back to New York when this is over,” Gregory said, “and we have to stay here with the chief.”

      “Good point. She’s making progress, though. She’s been inside a month now. It’ll be six weeks by the time your guy goes in. It might be too late for him. Hell, it might even be all over. Rumor has it a big shipment will be arriving shortly.”

      “Has she found out how it will be coming in, and how it will go out?”

      “Not yet.”

      “Then my guy still has a chance. Who knows? If things go well, when this job is done maybe the chief’ll be in such a good mood we’ll all get promotions.”

      Erik emptied his mug and replaced it on the table with a thump. “For that to happen, your guy would have to be something else.”

      “He is.”

      “Maybe,” Erik allowed. “But can he work miracles? And can he work them before my girl does?”

      Gregory shrugged. “Only time will tell.”

      Chapter 1

      Antonio Garibaldi scanned the 4,000-square-foot auction floor and felt his stomach plunge like an elevator whose cable had snapped. He had never been so nervous in his life.

      It was only to be expected, he told himself. After all, he lived and worked in a world where murder, violence and treachery were commonplace. A cop couldn’t work undercover for any length of time and not carry