Cody Walker's Woman (28 page)

Keira looked at her apple, then at Trace. “Yes,” she said in a breath of a whisper.

“Well that’s good, since the poor guy is hopelessly in love with you.”

“How do you know that?”

Trace chuckled. “I’ve got eyes in my head. I don’t need any special training to see it, either. He tries to hide it, just as you do, but...”

“Does everyone know?” she asked in dismay.

“Callahan knows, if that’s who you mean. And Baker Street. I’ve known Nick D’Arcy a long time, and I’m sure he knows. But if you’re worried about office gossip, forget it. Only people who know the two of you, who have seen you together, would ever figure it out.” He finished the apple, then contemplated the apple core and asked casually, “So, are you sleeping with him?”

“Trace!” Keira felt her face flushing, and knew she’d betrayed herself.

He smiled wryly, and his eyes met hers. “Yeah, it’s none of my business. I know that. But knowing you, if you
are
sleeping with him, you’re worried I might think badly of you if I found out. I just want you to know I don’t, that’s all.”

“I never thought you—that is, I
did
think you might—but I don’t want—oh, God...” She was hopelessly lost in a morass of half sentences, none of which she knew how to end. Trace’s eyes held understanding and a glint of humor. “Oh, damn you,” she said without heat.

Chapter 21

W
hen Cody walked into Callahan’s house, the first thing he noticed was that Keira was studiously avoiding her partner, and his internal radar started buzzing. It wasn’t anything either of them said, just a strange vibe, and he wondered what the hell had happened.

But before he could ask Keira about it, Callahan hollered from the kitchen. “I’m starved. Let’s eat while we have the chance.”

Keira followed him back into the kitchen, and while the two men ate, she told them what she’d found on Ted Danvers. “Two felony convictions, and a long history of petty crimes dating back to his teens,” she said, reading from her cryptic notes. “And his name is on the NOANC donor list for the past five years.”

“Suspicious,” Cody said between bites, “but not proof of anything.”

“No, but those two felony convictions give us leverage under the ‘three-strike’ law. If he goes down for attempted murder, it’s the same as if he succeeded in killing one of us—a life sentence. We might be able to get him to talk for a reduced sentence.”

“What else have you got?” Callahan asked.

“An extended cab pickup truck registered in his name.” She gave the make, model and year. “Did you find one on the road anywhere?”

“No,” Cody answered.

“I didn’t think you would.” There was that repressed excitement again, as if she could hardly wait to tell them what else she’d uncovered. “Ted Danvers has two brothers, Brad and Joe, both younger. Same address. Also NOANC donors. And get this—Brad is an explosives expert—four years in the army, dishonorable discharge. He works for a construction company now.”

Callahan swore. “Ideal recruit for the New World Militia.”

“That’s what I thought. Trace had the agency contact the Buffalo police, to see if they could track down either brother.”

Cody asked, “And?”

Her smile lit up her eyes. “Unaccounted for. Both of them.”

Callahan put down his half-eaten sandwich and picked up the phone. “Do you have the license plate number?” She nodded and held her notebook in front of him as he dialed a number. “Jerry? It’s me. I need an APB on a vehicle, license plate...” He read the number for the all points bulletin off Keira’s notebook, along with the make, model, year and the owner’s name. “Ted Danvers is in FBI custody, but right now he’s in the hospital in Sheridan.”

He listened for a minute, then said, “Yeah. That’s right. And I also want a BOLO for two men,” he added, using the police acronym for be on the lookout. “Brad Danvers and Joe Danvers, both of Buffalo.” He mouthed the word, “address,” at Keira. She flipped back in her notebook and held it up so he could repeat it into the phone. “Got that? Good. Let me know the minute we get a hit on the truck or either man. Thanks.”

He hung up and looked at Cody, who nodded and said, “You want to be the good cop or the bad cop?”

Callahan chuckled and picked up his sandwich again. “I’m always the good cop, even when I play the bad one.”

* * *

Michael Vishenko’s home phone rang. “Yes?” he said when he picked it up.

“We have a slight problem,” the voice at the other end said.

“I see. Thank you for calling.” He hung up, a muscle in his jaw twitching. He reached into a desk drawer, pulled out a cell phone, and stared at it.
Another failure.
How was that possible? His targets were mortal. How hard could it be to kill them?

Fools,
he thought as he waited the requisite five minutes, his anger growing with each minute that passed.
I’m surrounded by fools.

After five minutes he dialed a number. “What is the problem this time?” he asked when the call was answered.

“We need authorization to proceed with something other than the original approach.”

Vishenko knew the voice was referring to his carefully constructed plan—agonizing death by fire for all his targets. Without that, Vishenko would not receive the full measure of his revenge. “No!” he shouted into the phone. “The original plan
must
be followed.”

There was silence at the other end. “There is a problem with that.”

“What problem?”

“A secondary failure. And a custody issue.”

Vishenko translated the code phrases. Secondary failure—he’d already surmised as much. But custody issue was more serious. It meant one of his tools had been arrested.

“And what is your solution?” he asked.

“If we could deviate from the plan...it could also resolve the custody issue.”

“Then, do it,” he snapped. He barely disconnected the phone before adding viciously, “Just kill them. Any way you can.”

* * *

It was late when they arrived at the hospital in Sheridan, but the sun was still up. Cody left Keira guarding Callahan’s four-by-four and McKinnon guarding the front door of the hospital, while he and Callahan went up to Ted Danvers’s room to question him. At first the FBI agent stationed outside Danvers’ room refused to let them enter, but Callahan eventually convinced him they had legitimate business with the suspect.

Once inside they were confronted by another FBI agent. This one was even tougher to convince. Before he would let them interrogate Danvers, he called his superior, Agent Jeff Holmes, for permission, which was grudgingly given.

All told, it was almost thirty minutes before they were allowed to ask their first question...for all the good it did them. Ted Danvers might as well have been a sphinx. He answered none of their questions, just lay there secure in his rights against self-incrimination, his eyes glaring at both interrogators equally.

Finally Cody told Callahan, “Forget it. We’re wasting our time here.” He started for the door. “Maybe we’ll have better luck with Brad or Joe.”

“They won’t—” Danvers was startled into saying before he caught himself.

“They won’t what?” Callahan asked softly. “Talk?”

“Get the hell out of here,” Danvers grated. “I know my rights. I don’t have to talk to you. I want a lawyer.” Then he shut his eyes.

The FBI agent sitting next to the bed made a facial expression as if to say, “What did you expect?” as they left the room.

Cody and Callahan rode down in the elevator. Cody glanced at the older man and said, “At least we know we’re on the right track.”

“Yeah,” Callahan responded dryly. “But we’re a long way from making a case.”

They exited the elevator and walked to the front door, where McKinnon waited for them. The three men had no sooner stepped outside when FBI Agent Holmes appeared.

“Sorry,” Callahan said, meaning it. “We didn’t mean to drag you out here. We just needed to ask a few questions.”

Holmes’ jaw clamped tight for a moment. “It’s
my
case,” he said finally.

“Mine, too,” Cody said quietly.

Holmes bristled. “Look, Walker—”

“No, you look.” Cody was fed up with the FBI’s attitude toward the agency. “Didn’t they tell you it was
my
truck that was rigged to explode the other night, same as Callahan’s?” His voice held an edge of anger. “I’m just as much a target as Callahan here, and if it wasn’t for the agency, the FBI wouldn’t know a damn thing about it, wouldn’t know there’s a link between those two dead prosecutors and the attempts on us.” He took a step forward. “I’m sorry if you think I’m treading on your toes, but—”

McKinnon stepped between them. “Dial it back, Walker,” he said firmly. He glanced over his shoulder at Agent Holmes. “You, too. I know the FBI doesn’t like the agency, but we
are
on the same side. Aren’t we?” he added pointedly.

Both men looked at each other, hostility slowly fading.

Cody glanced at Callahan, silently asking a question. Callahan said, “It’s your call.” He smiled faintly. “It’s a hell of a situation if you can’t trust the FBI...at least partway.”

Cody looked at Agent Holmes again. “We could pool our resources.” He heard the grudging note in his voice, and deliberately toned it down. “We’ve got a couple of leads we’re willing to share, if the FBI will do the same.” He held out his hand. “Truce?”

Agent Holmes stared at the hand, then at Cody’s face. “Sounds like a good plan to me,” he said finally, shaking Cody’s hand. “What do you say we go back in here and talk about it?”

“Works for me.”

Callahan said, “I’ll get Keira.” He turned and headed for his four-by-four.

Keira watched Callahan coming her way, wondering what was going on. She’d witnessed the confrontation between Cody and FBI Agent Holmes, had seen Trace step between them, and then had seen the two men shaking hands.
Maybe they finally realized we’re all on the same side,
she thought, smiling.

The sun hadn’t set completely, but shadows fell across the parking lot in long, angular lines. Callahan was halfway there before she saw him signaling her to join them. Keira waved in acknowledgement and began jogging toward the hospital entrance, and Callahan turned back. Just then a truck slowly pulled into the parking lot on Keira’s left. She turned in its direction automatically...and
knew
...

Everything happened in the space of three seconds. The truck accelerated, and Keira raced forward, her hand already on her Glock. “Callahan!” she shouted as she drew her weapon, reaching him just as the truck’s passenger-side window rolled smoothly down, and the barrel of a rifle appeared in the open window. “Federal agents! Freeze!” she called out, stepping in front of Callahan and drawing a bead on the man in the window. She squeezed the trigger.

Cody turned sharply when he heard Keira call out Callahan’s name. Saw Callahan reach for his .45...too late. Reached for his own gun and started running...also too late. Simultaneous gunshots rang out, and Keira was spun around like a rag doll.

“No!” Cody shouted. Callahan was already firing, and the truck swerved. Then Cody was firing at the truck, too, obliterating the windshield as the truck headed straight for him. He darted out of the way at the last minute, still firing until his Glock locked open on an empty clip. The truck veered, then crashed head on into a light pole.

McKinnon and Holmes were racing toward the truck, weapons drawn, and Cody knew they didn’t need him. He turned and saw Keira sprawled on the ground in a pool of blood, Callahan kneeling beside her. An instant later he was there, too.

On autopilot, his hands worked feverishly alongside Callahan’s. The bullet had entered through the unprotected armhole of Keira’s bulletproof vest, he realized, and had ripped through the right side of her chest. Suddenly McKinnon was there, and Cody ordered, “Get an emergency team here now!” He didn’t even look up to see if McKinnon had obeyed. Since Callahan already had pressure on the entrance wound, Cody felt around with his right hand until he found the exit wound in the back and applied pressure there while his other hand reached for a pulse.

Her skin was cool and clammy to the touch, and her pupils were dilated; Cody knew she was already going into shock from loss of blood. But she kept whispering something, the same thing again and again even as her body shivered. Cody bent over her and heard, “Spec...sev...”

He knew then what she was trying to say.

Chapter 22

T
he waiting was the worst, Cody thought as he leaned against the wall in the antiseptic hallway outside the intensive care unit. He’d been in this same hospital himself six years ago, fighting for his life just as Keira was now. But he’d been in and out of consciousness, and the struggle to breathe then was nothing compared to what he was going through now.

If Keira didn’t make it—
No!
his heart insisted. He wasn’t going to think that way. Keira
couldn’t
die.

Cody looked up and saw Callahan walking down the long hallway toward him, rolling down his sleeve over the cotton ball taped to the crook of his left arm, and he knew the other man had just donated blood.

Blood. There’d been so much blood on Keira, all of it hers. It didn’t seem possible for a human being to lose so much blood and still be alive. If he lived to be a hundred he’d never forget the sight of Keira bleeding out with every beat of her heart. His hands had been covered with her blood as he frantically tried to stem the tide; thanking God wordlessly both he and Callahan had paramedic training that just might save her life. Thanking God, too, that they were in the parking lot of the hospital, and help was almost immediately forthcoming. But there had been so much blood on his hands that when they’d arrived in the emergency room one of the nurses there had been sure Cody was injured, too.

“No word yet?” Callahan asked in his deep voice.

Cody swallowed hard, fighting to keep his emotions under control. “No,” he answered roughly. “Not yet.”

Callahan leaned one shoulder against the wall next to Cody. After a long pause, he said softly, “She took a bullet meant for me.”