by Amelia Autin
Callahan looked grim. “Other than the fact he was beaten before he died, and that the evidence clearly points to the crime occurring at his cabin, we don’t know a hell of a lot. And I can’t think of anyone who might have had it in for him...other than the New World Militia.”
“They recovered three .357 slugs from Tressler’s body,” D’Arcy told him, “two of which are in good enough shape for a match. If you find the gun. And there’s something else. Whoever shot him made two crucial mistakes, which means—”
“He’s not a professional.” Callahan interjected. “Yeah, I’d already thought of that. He should have made sure Steve was dead...and he should have searched the body to make sure Steve didn’t have any incriminating evidence on him.” He smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Those mistakes will cost him.”
“Black Rock is a small town,” Keira said. “Has anyone given any indication they know something about his death? What I mean is,” she clarified, “has anyone expressed undue concern about his death who shouldn’t? Or on the other hand, has anyone who should be worried about his death not shown it?”
Callahan shook his head. “No, and in the past two weeks I’ve interviewed just about every resident of the town in some way. Nothing has seemed out of kilter, and I haven’t gotten even a hint of anybody hiding anything. Everyone knew him, and everyone seems duly shocked. Either his murderer is an incredible actor, or I haven’t talked to him.”
“What about his employer?” Keira asked.
“Steve didn’t have a real job, not the way you mean. He was smart enough, but he didn’t want to be tied down to a regular nine-to-five job. He made just enough to get by doing odd jobs—yard work, handyman kind of stuff in the summer. And in the winter he did snow plowing—he had a snow plow attachment for his truck. He used to plow a lot of the parking lots for the businesses in town on a regular basis, including Mandy’s store, but he also did one-off plowing or shoveling jobs for people when they called him.”
Keira darted a glance at Cody, and she could see the same thought was occurring to him. Before she could say anything, he said, “When we were up at my cabin the Friday before Memorial Day, there were still patches of snow on the ground. When did it snow last?”
An arrested look came over Callahan’s face. “The week before,” he said slowly. “Right around the time I started getting vibes from Steve that something wasn’t quite right. Right around the time he must have seen that hit list.”
Chapter 17
An agency helicopter took the four of them to Casper that night, where they picked up Callahan’s four-by-four from the safe house. From there they drove to Black Rock.
Callahan drove, and Cody sat in the passenger seat. Keira and Trace sat in the middle row, after the child car seats had been removed and stored in the back. Cody heard Keira tell Trace, “You have no idea how glad I am you’re okay. Once we figured out your name was on that list, I was worried until I realized your car was at work, and they couldn’t get to it.”
Cody suppressed the unreasonable shaft of jealousy that rippled through him. McKinnon’s her partner, he told himself. Of course she cares about him. But McKinnon told you there’s nothing between them, and never was. Not that way. Besides, he knew it himself—she loved him. But that didn’t stop the sudden flare of possessiveness.
He glanced over at Callahan. “Did you see Mandy and the kids before we left?”
“Yeah.” The word wasn’t much more than a growl. “For about fifteen minutes.” Then Callahan added, “If we’ve got this thing figured correctly, at least I don’t have to worry about their safety. But I won’t relax until we know for sure.”
Cody remembered the last time he and Callahan had driven together through the darkness, six years ago. He’d been at the wheel then, with Callahan in the passenger seat. They’d known that either or both of them could have ended up dead that night. And Callahan had extracted that promise from him regarding Mandy.
Six years, he thought. An eternity.
He looked over his shoulder at Keira in the row behind him. Her face was turned away now, staring out the window into the night, so all he saw was her profile in shadow. As he watched her he realized, all told he’d only known her three weeks. Three weeks. Another eternity. But this eternity had changed his life even more profoundly.
He smiled to himself, remembering...was it only last night? Remembering the way she’d listened to his story without judging him, the way she’d clasped his hand, the way love and admiration had shone from her eyes. He hadn’t told her that story to gain her sympathy—or her love—he’d just felt she needed to know those things about him before they took the next step in their relationship.
But she had surprised him once again—it seemed as if she was constantly surprising him. When she’d confessed she wanted to be loved by him the way Callahan loved Mandy, something that had been broken inside him six years ago had been healed. He saw that now.
Then she had given herself to him—physically and emotionally. A surge of desire swept through him as he remembered the way she’d called his name...twice. He would never tire of hearing his name on her lips that way, just as he’d never tire of making love to her. Just as he’d never tire of lov—
Keira turned her head at that moment and caught his eyes on her. Her face was solemn at first, but then she smiled slowly, and it was a smile for him alone. It warmed him from the inside out.
He heard again in his head the faint sound of protest she’d made when he’d told D’Arcy they could be protected together. But she hadn’t denied him. That hadn’t been easy for her—he knew that. Just as it hadn’t been easy for him to consent to her plan this afternoon. As much as he wanted to protect her, he knew that part of what made Keira so special to him was her dedication to her job, the same dedication he had. Their jobs were dangerous, but vital to the safety of their country.
Once a Marine, always a Marine, she’d said to him last night, and it was another bond between them. So many bonds. They were inextricably linked. She belonged to him, and he...he belonged to her. Semper Fidelis—Always Faithful. It was more than just the Marine Corps motto now. It was a personal pledge between them.
He smiled back at her in the darkness.
* * *
Callahan pulled up in front of his house and parked, but before anyone got out, he turned around and said, “Hang on a sec. Let me check first. You never know, and I don’t want to take any chances.”
“I’m coming with you,” Cody said, opening his door before Callahan could protest. They hadn’t taken more than three steps toward the house before floodlights hit them from all directions. “Freeze!” barked a voice from the darkness. “FBI.”
“Damn!” Cody glanced across at Callahan, realizing they’d both said the same word at the same time. They both raised their hands and froze, neither wanting to give any trigger-happy FBI agent an excuse to open fire. But Cody called out, “Hold your fire! I’m Special Agent Cody Walker, and this is Sheriff Ryan Callahan. Special Agents Keira Jones and Trace McKinnon are with us.”
FBI agents swarmed around them, and at first it seemed as if the Fibbies didn’t care who they were. But then the man in charge let Cody—very slowly and carefully—show his identification and his badge. When Callahan was allowed to do the same, the order was given to the other FBI agents to lower their weapons.
“Sorry,” the man in charge said as he holstered his gun. “The agency, huh?” And Cody could tell by his tone that the FBI’s agent in charge wasn’t impressed. Only natural, I suppose, he thought. They don’t like us any more than we like them.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw FBI agents opening the doors of Callahan’s four-by-four, and ordering Keira and McKinnon out. He suppressed the instinct to go to Keira’s side, knowing she could take care of herself in this situation, and instead pocketed his credentials.
“What are you doing here?” Callahan asked as he put his wallet away. He didn’t add, “on my property,” but he
might as well have since his tone indicated that’s what was in his mind.
“Sorry,” the FBI agent said, but this time his apology was sincere, and Cody smiled to himself as he thought, The FBI doesn’t want to tick off the local sheriff. “I’m Agent Jeff Holmes, from the FBI’s resident agency in Casper. We were notified by his agency,” he said, jerking a thumb in Cody’s direction, “that there could be a link between an attempt on your life and the murders of two federal prosecutors on the East Coast last night.”
“Yeah.” Callahan glanced over at Cody. “I take it you found one?”
Agent Holmes nodded. “The SUV that was in your driveway, we took it apart and found what we think are the same explosives and wiring device. The lab has them now, and they’re being analyzed to see if we can tie them together forensically, but in the meantime, our working assumption is that there is a connection. So, what can you tell me?”
Cody shot Callahan a sharp look and got a confirming look in return. Callahan wasn’t about to reveal anything more than he had to. Not to the FBI.
“Not much, other than the fact I knew both men,” Callahan said laconically. “I was a witness in a trial they prosecuted eight years ago, but I haven’t seen or talked to them since then. His agency—” Callahan hooked a thumb toward Cody, just as Agent Holmes had done “—seems to think there’s a connection, but that’s about all they told me. And they dragged me all the way to Denver to tell me that much.”
Cody had to admire the way Callahan told the truth...but concealed almost everything of importance. He’d revealed only what he wanted to reveal, and made it sound as if the agency was overreacting. Throwing the Fibbies off the scent, he acknowledged. Nice job, Callahan.
“So, did you search my house?” Callahan asked.
“Uh, we got a search warrant for the car, but we couldn’t get one for the house,” Agent Holmes said.
Doesn’t mean they didn’t search, Cody thought, knowing Callahan was thinking the same thing.
“I was just wondering if it was safe to enter. If there were explosives in the SUV, they could have done something to my house, too—I’ve been gone all day.”
“Want us to check for you?” Agent Holmes asked.
He was just a little too eager, and Cody and Callahan exchanged glances. “That’s okay, I’ve got these guys babysitting me,” Callahan said, indicating Cody, Keira and McKinnon. “I’ll let them check it out.” He held out his hand. “So, if that’s all, I’ll say thanks and wait to hear from you regarding when I can get my SUV back.”
Cody hid a grin at the masterful way Callahan had dismissed the FBI. Jurisdictionally the FBI was on thin ice as it was, since no connection had as yet been established between the explosives found in Callahan’s SUV and the ones that had killed the two federal prosecutors. Callahan was the local sheriff and hadn’t requested FBI assistance, and since technically they were trespassing on his property, Agent Holmes didn’t have much choice but to shake the hand offered, gather up his team and their equipment, and depart with as much good grace as he could muster.
Cody waited until the FBI vehicles were out of sight before he started chuckling. “Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he told Callahan.
Callahan didn’t smile. “It went against the grain not to cooperate with him, but I can’t trust the FBI the way I used to.” His gaze moved from Cody to Keira. “Not since you uncovered what you did on that New York SAC.” He shook his head, a grim look settling on his face. “It’s a hell of a situation when I can’t trust the FBI.”
“Sorry,” Cody said, meaning it. “Just a little interagency rivalry. They’ve always resented the agency, which is why they only grudgingly share information with us. And I guess we’re not much better. But when we don’t share, we usually have a damn good reason.”
“Like the junior senator from New York?” Callahan asked dryly.
“Yeah. Like that.”
Keira and McKinnon had been listening quietly, but now McKinnon spoke. “I don’t know about the two of you, but I’m tired and hungry. What say we go in and you continue that conversation some other time?”
* * *
Dinner was long since over, and the four of them sat in the living room, discussing their plans for the next day. Keira hadn’t said much, just listened to the three men with part of her brain while the other part was trying to puzzle out the meaning of Steve Tressler’s last words to Callahan. Veni, vidi, vici. Centaur. Or center. Or...or what? If Callahan couldn’t figure it out, what makes you think you can?
Two weeks ago she’d been convinced there was a link between the phrase veni, vidi, vici and the Praetor Corporation. Now she wasn’t so sure. Why didn’t you research that more when you had the chance? she berated herself. She had researched the phrase, but she couldn’t find a link to the Praetor Corporation. The only thing she had been able to come up with was an online video game, so she’d put it aside to consider later. Then, when she’d started following the trail of David Pennington and his wife and son, she’d never gone back to it.
Veni, vidi, vici—I came, I saw, I conquered. It was a motto of some kind. Like Semper Fidelis—Always Faithful—was to the Marine Corps. But nothing she’d read about the Praetor Corporation, or NOANC for that matter, said anything about a motto for either organization.
Maybe it was a holdover from the old militia. David Pennington had seemed to have a thing for Roman history. Hadn’t Cody said something about that? She cast her mind back. It was there, on the tip of her tongue. She closed her eyes for a minute to block out her surroundings, and then it came back to her. My code name in the militia was Centurion. Pennington picked the name. He thought it was clever. Maybe it was.
Centurion. A professional officer in the Roman army. Not just anyone could be a centurion, she remembered. She’d read somewhere that centurions had to meet strict guidelines, including having already served a few years in the military. Was that how Pennington had seen his militia, a reincarnation of the Roman army? Or was it just a coincidence?
Veni, vidi, vici...Praetor...Semper Fidelis...Centurion...
When the Latin words and phrases started running together in her mind, Keira realized she was dozing off. She blinked, trying to force herself awake. She glanced at her watch and saw it was late. They’d been up late last night, too, waiting to hear from the explosives team investigating the tampering with Cody’s truck.
“That okay with you, Keira?” Trace said, his voice breaking into her thoughts.
She took a deep breath. “Sorry,” she said, “I wasn’t listening. I was thinking of something else.” She wasn’t about to admit she’d nearly fallen asleep.
“I said I’ve been sleeping in Callahan’s guest room, but you can have it. Walker and I can use the boys’ bunk beds.”
Keira’s gaze flew from Trace’s face to Cody’s, and a small part of her wished...but not with the other men there. There was no way. She glanced back at Trace. “Fine with me,” she said with a smile for her partner. “Thanks.”
As she stood up her earlier question came back to her, and she asked Callahan before she forgot, “You were pretty close to Pennington at one time, weren’t you?” Callahan’s face went cold, and Keira rushed to clarify. “What I mean is, you knew him fairly well when you were undercover, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
The one word made her shiver, but she said, “I’m trying to get a picture of him in my mind. Do you know if he was interested in Roman history?”
Callahan considered her question for a few seconds, then said, “Maybe. He never mentioned it that I recall, but he had a couple of statues in the garden of his Long Island compound. I couldn’t say if they were Greek or Roman, but they looked like warriors in those old gladiator movies—you know what I mean. Swords and shields and helmets—that sort of thing.”
“But you never heard him use the phrase veni, vidi, vici.”
It wasn’t a question, but Callahan answered, anyway. “No.”
Cody ask
ed 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—