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about what you know?”
    “I’m saying that if there is something else going on here that I don’t know about that could adversely affect my career, then my loyalties may alter.” Oh, how her ex-husband would love this, she thought disgustedly. Make them believe they were getting something while promising nothing. Serve only your best interests and everyone else be damned. She thought she might be sick.
    “I’d have to have something more concretethan that to go on before I told you anything,” the reporter replied carefully.
    Adria expected nothing less. But she wasn’t just going to hand out information. All she had to do was figure out what she could give the woman without jeopardizing her situation or Dane’s investigation. She didn’t want to risk tipping anyone off about the third plane while Dane was still actively trying to find proof of its existence.
    “Why don’t we meet?” Adria suggested. “I’d feel better about this if we were face-to-face.” It took some further convincing, but when the woman realized it was the only way Adria would talk, she finally agreed.
    “There’s a playground on Stratford, do you know it?” Adria asked, thinking quickly, figuring no one there would pay attention to two women chatting in the shade.
    It wasn’t until she’d given directions and hung up that she realized how easily—naturally—she’d thought of Dane as her partner in this, not as an adversary.
    The idea alarmed her more than it reassured her.
    Now the question was, should she tell him about this meeting before? Or after? Her first instinct was to wait until after. That way she could defuse his anger—and she had no doubt he’d be angry, whether he let it show or not—with whatever information she was able to get.But her second instinct told her that her rationale was just a cover for fear.
    She scooped up the phone and punched in Dane’s number.
    She’d stopped playing the coward five years ago. She’d managed to handle the Predator so far, she wasn’t about to give away her edge now.
    What in the hell was he doing hiding behind an overgrown jungle gym? Dane still hadn’t quite figured out how Adria had conned him into this. One minute he’d been arguing with his superior, Roy Forster, who was riding him harder than usual to get his preliminary report in, the next he’d been sideswiped by a very feminine, very excited voice on the other line, explaining why he had to come to a meeting she’d set up with a reporter. At a playground, of all places.
    Dane pulled at his shirt collar as sweat mixed with the heavy starch, making his skin itch. It was blazing hot out here. He’d given up trying to blend in thirty minutes ago. He was certain at least two mothers already thought he was some sort of pervert and wouldn’t be surprised if several more were contacting the authorities on the portable phones in their minivans as they drove home.
    He pulled a handkerchief out of his breastpocket and wiped his forehead. He tortured himself with images of his air-conditioned office and an ice-cold can of Coke. He was missing lunch for this. Not that the cellophane-wrapped sandwich he’d have likely bought from the vending machine was a great loss.
    Dane peered through the wooden slats of the jungle gym. They were still talking. What had Adria gotten herself into? And why was he standing here letting her get into it? She could be destroying the whole investigation.
    She wasn’t stupid, far from it, but he wouldn’t put it past the reporter to somehow get her to slip up. He groaned, picturing the headlines if that third-plane scenario leaked out. His boss would have his ass in a sling by nightfall if Adria’s story ever hit the papers.
    Tension tightening the base of his scalp, he looked away, just in time to glare at a small boy who had been ready to drop a fistful of gravel on top of his head. The boy hurried on to some other unsuspecting target.
    Dane couldn’t recall ever being with so many kids at