Leslie Parrish - Pitch Black

She had promised Wyatt she would not allow her real job to come second to any side investigations. She meant to keep her word. Besides, there was no way she would bring Brandon any further into the situation. His knowledge that she was proceeding without technically having their boss’s permission was bad enough.

Anspaugh, on the other hand, didn’t seem to give a damn whether Wyatt approved of what she was up to or not. In fact, she suspected he’d like nothing better than to think Lily was less than loyal, or that her work on the other CAT could inconvenience Blackstone’s team.

“I’ve been very busy; we’re working on a case,” she explained out of courtesy, not about to let him put her on the defensive. “That came first.”

“Oh, right, hunting up phantom killers who attack through the Internet. Is Dr. Horrible sending electric shocks via DSL to strike down anyone who touches his keyboard?”

Jerk . “What is it you want?” she asked. “Has something happened?”

“Yeah. And I want you… in on it.”

She had the feeling the hesitation between his words had been intentional. Anspaugh had never made a move on her, but she’d seen the way his stare sometimes lingered, noticed how frequently he found an excuse to touch her. Like now, as he moved a bit closer.

She intentionally stepped around him. Even if she weren’t a block of solid ice beneath her warm skin, with no interest in being close to anyone ever again, she would have recoiled from that particular touch. Anspaugh might be good-looking in a big-jock-football-player way, but she truly couldn’t stand his type.

“Lil?”

God, she hated that nickname. “What happened?”

“You know we were finally able to sift through the history of Satan’s Playground and isolate a general geographic area of Lovesprettyboys.”

Her stomach knotted, as it always did when she thought of him. “You said as much earlier.”

“He’s somewhere near Richmond, which is where we’ve focused our investigation. We’ve been monitoring message boards, chat rooms, anything that would draw residents in a hundred-mile radius, particularly kids.”

“And he showed up?”

“We think so.”

“My God,” she whispered.

He stiffened. “You sure you’re okay talking about this? I mean, with everything else?”

He hadn’t been part of the team that had investigated her nephew’s case, but he knew about it. Few people working crimes against children didn’t. It wasn’t every day that kind of tragedy touched one of the bureau’s own.

“I’m fine. Tell me what happened.”

“One we were watching was a Web site with a bunch of message boards for kids involved in a community program in Williamsburg. Sports, after-school activities, stuff like that.”

Classic pedophile territory. She sucked in a breath of freezing air, then, shivering, tugged her coat tighter.

“We’re not certain. But there have been a few comments this one supposed kid has made that sound like some things our perp said in the transcripts from Satan’s Playground. He didn’t use the same handle, of course; he’s been posting as Peter Pan.”

The boy who never grew up, who wanted only to be with his lost boys. Sick bastard.

“That’s not an ID a child would choose.” The Peter Pan fantasy was one grown men enjoyed. Certainly not seven-year-olds who were much more into superheroes like Spider-Man or the Dark Knight.

“No, I guess not,” Anspaugh said. “We can’t know for sure this is the same guy, but there doesn’t seem to be much doubt he’s a pedophile. So either way, we want him.”

“How can I help?”

He smiled down at her, as if she’d offered to do him a personal favor. In truth, she would find it hard to turn on a light if he asked her for personal reasons.

“We’ve had no luck drawing him out. One of my agents has been posting as an eight-year-old boy, but he can’t get anything started with this prick.”

“He’s going to be incredibly careful, of course,” she said. “He would never engage with someone who sought him out. Every pedophile in the country knows those sites are monitored.”

“We haven’t directly engaged him,” he said, an edge of irritation in his voice. He wasn’t the type who enjoyed being questioned or corrected.

She ignored him. “So we’d need to come up with a reason for him to seek us out. Something to draw his attention to us, over all the other kids using the site.” Many of whom were probably perverts trolling for victims themselves. At least, so thought the pessimist in her.

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly. Which brings me to my point.”

“What?”

“I checked out the Peter Pan story, read the book looking for an opening.”

Probably the first book he had cracked open since his last college English class.

“Yesterday, when I heard Cole call you Tiger Lily, it all sorta clicked.”

She immediately followed. “That name might interest him enough to say hello. As long as we’re not too obvious about casting the bait. For instance, if I post on a board he has never commented on as Peter Pan, he might not immediately suspect a setup.”

“Right.”

The idea wasn’t a bad one. No, she still didn’t see a real seven- or eight-year-old boy wanting other “big” kids to think he was into Peter Pan. However, girls might still enjoy picturing themselves as fairies like Tinker Bell, or Indian princesses like Tiger Lily.

“Wait,” she said, suddenly realizing what she had overlooked. “Lovesprettyboys is into boys. Most sexual abusers are pretty discriminating in their predilections.”

“I know.” Anspaugh fidgeted. “But it might work anyway, if he’s just trying to get in with any kid right now, hoping it’ll lead to the right type.”

She wondered if he truly believed his own spiel. Or if he had already decided this Peter Pan was not Lovesprettyboys, but wanted Lily’s help and figured she’d offer it more readily if she had a personal stake in the case.

Believing he had to manipulate her into wanting to catch a scum who preyed on children, boys or girls, said a lot more about Anspaugh than it did about her. None of it good.

Still, she would help, no question about it. If by chance this Peter Pan was the same monster she’d become obsessed with finding five months ago, when she’d first entered Satan’s Playground, all the better.

“If he responds to Tiger Lily and shows serious interest in her, we’ll know we’re dealing with someone else,” she murmured, rubbing her temple as she thought it out. “If, on the other hand, he responds and shows interest in the younger brother Tiger Lily complains about…”

Anspaugh barked an approving laugh. “I like the way you think, Fletcher. What a waste, you working for Blackstone.”

Her tone frigid, she bit out, “Another crack about Wyatt Blackstone and you can find somebody else to help you. Got it?”

He fell silent, visibly shocked by her words and the way she’d said them.

She couldn’t believe the man hadn’t noticed her loyalty to her boss by now. Wyatt had given her the opportunity to do something she truly needed to do-help solve violent crimes-in the one way she was skilled to do it: via her computer expertise. Nobody else would have given her the chance, especially not fresh off her family tragedy.

She owed him. She respected him. Furthermore, she liked him. He might leave her tongue-tied half the time, and he might intimidate her with those intense good looks, but she couldn’t deny she enjoyed being around him. She almost felt safe with Wyatt. At least, as safe as she ever felt these days.

“I had a couple of friends, good agents, who got caught up in his shit.”

“If they were good agents, they wouldn’t have been tampering with evidence.”