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leaving the dark-haired woman in the waiting area.  His Fair Lady of Caffeine. 
    "Kwon."
    "It's me," he said, watching as the woman sat down then bounced back up again a moment later.  Jeezit, how guilty could she look?   "What would you say if I told you I found someone with more FX in their pocket than we've seized in two weeks?"
    "What?  Hold on, Miller's here, I'm putting you on speaker."  He fidgeted, his body rocking as the caffeine surged into his veins.  There was a click of static, followed by Commander Sarah Miller's voice.
    "Is this a joke, Drake?"
    "No, ma'am.  Not unless someone's playing it on me.  I was crashing in the third floor waiting room when Whitman brought this woman in.  She dropped a small bag and I swear it has at least two dozen FX pills in it.  Looks like the real deal, too."
    "What did you do?"
    "I played along, in case she'd spill anything useful. Didn't want to force her hand, lose a chance to see what's going on."  Drake squirmed to get a better view of his Lady as she began to pace, her thick hair whipping against her shoulders with every staccato step.  For the first time in months, images cascaded through his mind in rich, vibrant hues of color and light.  "She didn't give me anything.  But she has bruises on her arms, some look pretty fresh.  I'll bet she's here to drop the dime on someone."
    "Whitman just told Kwon that her name is Hart and she asked to see someone on the FX taskforce.  You stay out of sight.  I'm on my way."
    He dropped the phone into his pocket and waited.  One by one, each of the detectives in the bullpen received a call.  Within a few minutes the area was clear of civilians and the other cops had positioned themselves at strategic sites.  The clipped sound of Miller's footsteps reverberated down the stairs across from Drake, announcing her arrival. 
    Hart seemed oblivious.   Whoever she was, she sure was an amateur. She took two steps to the door, hand reaching out as if she were about to leave, then spun and resumed pacing, a ferocious scowl tightening her features. He hadn't seen any track marks, but FX that pure you could snort.  Although she didn't seem like a user—most junkies wouldn't be so generous, even if it was only coffee.  Instead, her agitation reminded him of his own restlessness last night.  Anticipation of action, more like a caged tigress than a scared rabbit.
    Kwon appeared behind Miller, her Glock drawn.  She'd even put her Kevlar back on.  As Miller approached the door to the waiting room, every cop in the place had a hand on their weapon.  Every cop except Drake. 
    His service piece was upstairs locked in his desk at Major Crimes.  He still had his backup Baby Glock in an ankle holster, but he made no move toward it.  Instead he was fascinated by the way his palms were tingling, his fingers itching.  As if they'd been numb, dead to touch for months, and were finally coming to life.
    Drake shoved the thought aside, forcing himself to focus on what was happening in the glass walled room.  He blew his breath out, surprised that he'd been holding it.  Afraid that this feeling might vanish.
    The fluorescent lights glared off Miller's shiny blonde hair, styled into a sleek bob.  Her posture would have drawn compliments from any drill sergeant.  Even the pinstripes in her slate gray suit stood at attention.  She marched into the waiting room.  The direct approach.  Typical.  The Commander was intent on climbing the Pittsburgh Police Bureau's career ladder in record time and breaking the FX case would be a major step on her path. 
    "I'm Commander Sarah Miller, in charge of the FX Task Force.  I understand you have some information for us."
    CHAPTER 6
    Drake stayed in the shadows, out of sight, as Miller and Kwon escorted Hart through the bullpen and into Miller's office.  Hart emerged twenty minutes later, her face and neck flushed with scarlet plumes of anger, head erect as she looked straight ahead and