Cody Walker's Woman (24 page)

“But you never heard him use the phrase
veni, vidi, vici.
”

It wasn’t a question, but Callahan answered, anyway. “No.”

Cody asked her, “What are you thinking?”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure yet. When I know, I’ll tell you.”

She walked over to where her duffel bag sat by the door and picked it up. She looked at Trace. “Where’s the guest bedroom?”

* * *

Keira was so exhausted she fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. But her sleep was disturbed by dreams. At first she dreamed of Cody and the way he’d looked at her as she’d passed him in the hallway, heading back to the guest bedroom after she’d showered and brushed her teeth. He hadn’t said anything, but his eyes...his eyes had spoken volumes, and she’d known just what he was thinking, because she’d been thinking the same thing.

Then her dream changed, and she saw Cody dressed in the Roman garb of a centurion, sword in one hand, shield in the other. He looked so totally unlike himself, but his eyes...his eyes were the Cody she knew. And he was gazing at her the way he had Thursday night when he’d demanded she tell him she loved him—with love and longing, and a fierce, possessive desire.

Veni, vidi, vici...Praetor...Semper Fidelis...Centurion...

The key... Where was the key? She
had
to solve the puzzle. Cody needed her to solve it. His life was at stake. Other lives were also at stake: Trace’s, Callahan’s and D’Arcy’s, too. But Cody was the only one who had come close to dying.
Turn the key, step on the gas and boom.

There it was again. Key.

Key...lock... There was something about a lock....

Her dream dissolved into another scene, and now Cody was sitting at his desk, concentrating on his computer as she walked up to his office door. She stood there watching for a moment, savoring the secret knowledge that she was finally going to prove herself to him, that he would
have
to respect her.

Like snapshots in a slide show, pictures flashed through her dream.
Click!
Now she was giving him the folder with everything she’d uncovered.
Click!
Now Cody was calling Baker Street’s executive assistant and making an appointment to see him.
Click!
Now Cody was talking to Callahan.
Click!
Now they were in the elevator, and Cody was gazing down at her, taking a step toward her as if he were going to—

Stop!
her dream self said. There was something wrong with the slide show memories. She knew it. She’d missed something. Something important. A small thing, but crucial.

She restarted the slide show from the beginning, examining each frame minutely. No, nothing wrong with the first one. Nor the next, nor the next, nor the next.
Back up,
her dream self said.
Back up to right before the elevator.
And then she knew.

Cody had locked his computer with his personal password. That was standard procedure in the agency—you logged on to the agency network with a password, and you locked your computer for security with that same password whenever you were going to be away from your desk. She’d done it herself right before going to pick up the printouts from the printer, the ones she was going to show Cody.

Password?

Callahan suddenly appeared in her dream, holding a blood-stained key in his hand.
It sounded something like
center
or
centaur,
but I can’t swear to it.

Center...centaur...
A computer password? Could it be that simple? If so, where was the computer? What did it have to do with the bloody key? And what about
veni, vidi, vici?
Cody had wondered if it was some kind of code, but that didn’t make sense. Tressler had to have known he was dying—why would he speak in code? The answer was right there, just out of reach. What had Callahan said?

He was a decent kid—stereotypical computer nerd, but likable nevertheless.... He was always playing those online war games. He didn’t say it, but I suspect he joined the militia for the thrill of it, thinking it was like one of his computer games. He just didn’t realize it wasn’t a game.

Online war games...

Veni, vidi, vici...

No, not a code...an online
video
game...

Chapter 18

C
ody woke from an erotic dream of Keira. She was torturing him with her mouth and hands; her soft little moans of pleasure joined by the ragged sounds torn from his throat as she—

“Trace,” he heard Keira say in an urgent whisper. “Trace!”

No, that’s not right,
Cody thought, disoriented for a moment. Keira was supposed to be calling
his
name, not her partner’s name. He sat up abruptly in the upper bunk, almost hitting his head on the ceiling before he realized where he was and that the woman of his dreams was kneeling beside the lower bunk bed, shaking McKinnon’s arm.

“Keira? What’s wrong?” McKinnon was instantly awake.

Cody slid lightly from the upper bunk to the floor, saying at the same time, “What the hell is going on?”

Startled, Keira caught her breath in a gasp that was loud in the quiet room. “Cody! I didn’t mean to wake you.” She was fully dressed.

“What time is it?” he asked her.

She wasn’t wearing her watch, but she said, “It’s early—maybe four-thirty?”

Cody grabbed his jeans from the back of the chair he’d laid them on last night and donned them hastily. As he zipped up, then turned on a lamp, he heard Keira say to Trace, “I have to ask you something. When you and Callahan searched Tressler’s cabin, did you find a computer?”

McKinnon shook his head. “We found a box for a laptop in the garage,” he said, “and there was a DSL line in his living room. But no laptop. That was one of the first things we checked.”

Keira tapped a fingernail on her teeth as she considered this. “No,” she said finally. “I don’t think so.”

“No what?” Cody asked.

“Callahan said Tressler was a gamer,” she explained. “Gamers usually prefer desktops because the graphics processors necessary for high-detail, high-resolution gaming are a lot more expensive in a laptop than a desktop. Not to mention the RAM. Tressler might have had a laptop for other uses—although I doubt it—but for gaming, I’m betting he had a desktop.”

“How do you know all that?” McKinnon asked.

Keira chuckled softly. “I don’t have four older brothers for nothing,” she replied. “Every one of them went through the video gaming phase.”

“Well, if Tressler had a desktop computer,” McKinnon maintained, “whoever killed him took it, because there wasn’t one.”

“Maybe.” Keira didn’t look convinced.

“What are you thinking?” Cody asked.

“I’m thinking about that key he gave Callahan,” she said, her eyes staring off into the distance. “I’m thinking about where a man would stash a computer he wanted to hide. A computer that contains a deadly secret.”

“Hide in plain sight?” said a deep voice from the doorway. Cody turned and saw Callahan standing there, his hair rumpled and looking as if he’d dressed hastily.

“Sorry,” Keira said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

This was said so perfunctorily Cody knew she didn’t really mean it. There was a repressed excitement about her that reminded him of the way she’d looked on Thursday, when she’d brought him the file folder of things she’d uncovered about Vishenko.

“I thought of something while I was sleeping,” she told Callahan now, her eyes giving her away. “I just wanted to ask Trace—”

“I heard,” Callahan said as he advanced into the room. “He’s right—we didn’t find a computer, but now that you mention it, I think that laptop was a red herring. I went through all of Steve’s papers, piece by piece, and found a receipt for that same type of laptop dated four days before he was murdered.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” McKinnon said with a frown.

“Four days?” Cody asked. “That was before he talked to you about the militia.”

“Yeah. But
after
he started acting strangely.” Callahan’s gaze transferred back to Keira. “I didn’t think about it at the time, but now...”

“Was there anyone he was particularly close to?” she asked urgently. “Someone he’d trust. Family, maybe, or a girlfriend?”

“No family, no girlfriend.” A speculative look crept into Callahan’s eyes. “But he
was
close to one person—Betsy Duggan.” He glanced at Cody. “Remember her?”

“Roland’s wife, Betsy?”

“Yeah. Roland passed away...must be close to three years ago now. Steve used to do yard work and plowing for her at a discounted rate—she’s close to seventy, you know, and doesn’t have any family around now that Roland’s gone. He didn’t leave her much other than the house outside Black Rock—she gets by on just her Social Security. Steve let her pay him a little to keep her pride, but I found out by accident just how little that actually was.” His gaze never wavered. “And she did things for him, too—mending, baking, stuff like that. Mandy once said Betsy treated Steve like an adopted grandson, and he acted like one to her.”

“Would he have a key to her house?” Cody asked.

Callahan nodded slowly, speculation morphing into a tiny smile, and his gaze turned back to Keira. “Betsy went to Palm Springs last month to visit her daughter. If she left a key with anyone...”

“I’ll bet you anything you want to name, the key he gave you is to her house.” Keira’s excitement was barely contained now, and she turned to Cody. “And unless whoever killed him figured it out, which I doubt, I’ll bet we’ll find his real computer there, too.” There was an expression on her face he was beginning to recognize—and it didn’t have anything to do with love. She stared up at him, and for an instant it was as if they were alone in the room—no Callahan, no McKinnon—just the two of them, and Keira’s excitement over solving the puzzle.

McKinnon broke into their fierce concentration on each other. “If we’re going to check it out, Keira,” he said. “I need my pants. Do you mind?”

She tore her gaze away from Cody and turned toward her partner. She smiled teasingly, picked up his jeans, and tossed them to him. “No, I don’t mind,” she said. “Go right ahead.”

When McKinnon made as if to maneuver his lanky frame out of the lower bunk to dress, Cody grasped Keira’s arm and hustled her toward the door, trying but failing miserably to suppress the sudden surge of possessiveness.

“Coffee,” he said, thinking quickly. “I can go without breakfast, but not without coffee.” He figured Keira had no intention of staying there, but no way was he going to let her watch another man get dressed—especially not one as handsome as McKinnon.

Callahan stepped aside to let them exit. As Cody passed him he caught the wicked gleam in the other man’s eyes; he knew Callahan could read his thoughts and was enjoying his discomfort. A memory from another place and time flashed through his mind, and Cody realized Callahan was probably remembering the same thing—the two of them watching Mandy sleep six years ago, their hostility toward each other barely contained.

Keira was already halfway down the hall toward the kitchen, and far enough away so she wouldn’t hear him. “Don’t push it,” he muttered to Callahan, his eyes narrowing.

“Wouldn’t think of it,” Callahan said smoothly. “Coffee’s in the cabinet right above the coffeemaker.”

* * *

A half hour later all four of them were in Callahan’s four-by-four, heading down the unpaved driveway. Dawn was breaking, painting the eastern sky cloud layers baby-bunting pink and blue, but sunrise was still more than twenty minutes away when they pulled on to the highway leading to Black Rock.

Callahan had only driven a minute before Cody said quietly, “We’ve got company.”

“Yeah,” Callahan growled. “I see them, too. They were waiting for us.” He slowed down slightly, and the car behind them slowed also. Then he pressed down on the accelerator, picking up speed quickly, and the car behind them did the same, maintaining the same distance.

“Open tail,” Cody said. “They want us to know they’re back there. Fibbies.”

“Who else would utilize an open tail?” Callahan asked rhetorically.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t put it past the FBI to leave a crew on watch. Especially since Holmes knows the agency is involved. He doesn’t trust us.” Cody glanced over at Callahan. “For protection, you think? Or out of suspicion?”

“Protection.” Callahan laughed under his breath. “Otherwise, why the open tail?”

“What are you going to do?”

“I can’t shake them...not out here in the middle of nowhere—there just aren’t enough roads to turn on. But we don’t want them following us to Betsy’s house either.”

Cody thought for a moment. “Where’s the truck McKinnon was driving?”

“Back at the house, parked out of sight behind it. Why?” Callahan darted a glance toward Cody. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Cody laughed a little. “Probably.”
We always were on the same wavelength,
he told himself.
That’s never changed, not in all these years.

He thought a moment. “Keep driving into town. Cruise around a little, like you’re showing us the lay of the land—they’ll suspect something if we don’t. Swing around the rim road, pick up the highway on the other side, and head back to your place. Then you and McKinnon can drive out again heading in the other direction to draw them off the scent, while Keira and I take the truck to Betsy’s house.”

When Callahan opened his mouth—to protest, Cody was sure—he added, “It’s the best chance we’ve got to search without company, and Keira knows what she’s looking for. Besides—” he slanted a sideways look at the other man “—technically you need a search warrant. I don’t.”

“Agency rules?” Callahan asked, a dangerous edge to his voice.

“Latitude,” Cody answered lightly. “If I were looking for evidence against Betsy I’d still need a warrant. But that’s not the case.” He saw Callahan’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. “The world has changed,” he said softly in response to what the other man was thinking.