The Pied Piper Read Free Page A

excitedly. “A kid, right? I mean, we’ve been expecting this, right?”
    â€œThe parents?” Boldt asked, releasing the man.
    â€œMulwright spoke to a neighbor lady. She’d heard from the parents, which is how come she was here. She got the other kid.”
    â€œOther kid?”
    â€œA little boy. She took him home with her.”
    Boldt nodded.
    â€œGo!” LaMoia ordered.
    Filgrim hurried off at a run, grabbing his gun to keep it from beating his side.
    LaMoia tongued his mustache nervously and said softly, “I’ll tell ya, I am not calling it until we can rule out a copycat or a coincidence.” He looked to Boldt for help but was met with the blank face of a teacher waiting out his pupil. “I suppose it is him. Baby sitter unconscious? The kid’s age is right. Both parents out of the house.”
    â€œEven so,” Boldt cautioned.
    â€œI know. I know,” LaMoia said nervously. “Where the hell is SID?” He checked his watch. Once the lab techs controlled a crime scene, the Feds would have a hell of a time trying to take over. No one in the Seattle Police Department wanted to play second fiddle to the Feds. An investigation’s power remained with whoever controlled the evidence.
    LaMoia studied the house, trying for a moment of calm. He then said to Boldt, “You’re thinking the baby sitter is, by definition, also a victim.” Boldt maintained that a victim, dead or alive, could tell an investigator more than a dozen witnesses. But the true victim had been taken from the crime scene.
    â€œThe sitter won’t remember much,” Boldt cautioned. “None of the others have.”
    â€œSo I’ve got shit to go on.”
    â€œYou’ve got a crime scene and the chance for physical evidence, a missing victim, a hospitalized victim. You’ve got neighbors, the possibility of unfamiliar vehicles in the neighborhood—maybe Neighborhood Watch,” Boldt listed for the man.
    â€œThat’s what I’m saying: We’ve got shit,” LaMoia repeated.
    Another patrolman approached. Name tag read Rodriguez. These guys were all over him at a crime scene, working for brownie points, hoping their names would be mentioned to someone, that they’d get a shot at something better than driving the streets. The advancement to sergeant had made LaMoia painfully aware of just how servile these guys could be. The female uniforms were a lot less so. Too bad.
    He raised his index finger to stop Rodriguez from interrupting his thoughts. He spoke to Boldt. “Some asshole comes here to lift a toddler. He’s got it all planned out, right? Use the back door, where no one’s gonna see him. Whack the baby sitter, heist the little thumb-sucker and make tracks. So … is he alone, or does he have company?”
    â€œHe’d have a wheel man, I guess,” Rodriguez answered.
    â€œNot you!” LaMoia chided. “I’m asking the lieutenant.”
    â€œLet him answer,” Boldt said. “You don’t need me.” The two exchanged a look, teacher to student.
    Rodriguez waited until LaMoia nodded approval for him to speak. “Wheel man? Parked out front, where the neighbors can see him?” LaMoia wanted the man to think.
    â€œKeeps moving, maybe. Driving around, you know, until the doer needs him.”
    â€œAnd if there’s a sudden problem with their little visit?” LaMoia asked. “What’s the Bad Guy gonna do, make a phone call, stand on the curb with his thumb in the air? Think!”
    The patrolman paled.
    â€œHow would you do it?” LaMoia asked, as Boldt had asked of him dozens of times. “That’s what a detective asks himself, Rodriguez: How would I do it? ”
    â€œI gotta get me inside the house. I come on as a plumber or something.”
    LaMoia looked back toward the house, nodding. “Yeah. A plumber, a fireman, a cop. He’s played them all, if