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Cody and Trace looked at each other. Glancing from one man to the other, Keira saw the sudden suspicion in both sets of eyes. “Stop it,” she said, “both of you. I know Trace,” she told Cody. “He’s been my partner for three years, ever since I joined the agency. I know him like I know myself.” She looked at Trace. “I don’t know Cody the way I know you, but I trust him with my life, the same way I trust you.”
Trace’s eyes narrowed again, and he looked as if he were going to demand further elucidation of her statement, but Nick D’Arcy preempted him. “That’s enough,” he said. “I just wanted to make a point. That’s why I’m sending Special Agent Jones as well as the two of you. Even though Callahan might not trust her, I do. End of discussion.”
It was a dismissal, and all three agents rose and filed out. Cody walked toward the elevator and punched the button, Keira and Trace right behind him.
“Wait up,” Keira said. “We need to talk about next steps.”
Cody glanced down at her and gave her an assessing look. “I’ve got to talk to Callahan, see what he says.”
“Shouldn’t we talk about it first, the three of us?”
“Look,” he said, “don’t take this the wrong way. But O’Neill is a tad, shall we say, old-school?”
“O’Neill?” She knew her face reflected her puzzlement. “I thought his name was Callahan.”
Cody rubbed the bridge of his nose, his lips pursing at his mistake. “It is. But when I first knew him, he was going by the name of Reilly O’Neill. Sometimes I still call him that out of habit.”
“Oh, I see.” She thought a moment. “What do you mean he’s a tad old-school?”
The elevator arrived, and they all crowded in. “What floor?” Cody asked.
“Twelve,” Trace volunteered.
Cody pushed the button for the twelfth floor as well as the fifth-floor button for his own office.
Keira reiterated her question. “What do you mean he’s a tad old-school?”
Cody looked at Trace. “You know him, too, McKinnon. Wouldn’t you say he’s a throwback?”
Trace laughed. “That’s an understatement.”
Cody grimaced. “There’s no easy way to tell you, but...Callahan won’t like it that a woman is involved in the investigation.”
“You’re kidding, right?” She glanced from Cody to her partner, then back again. Both faces had that expression men hid behind when they didn’t know what to say to a woman because no matter what they said, it was suicide one way or the other. “That’s not just old-school—he must be a dinosaur.”
Cody laughed but said, “I have to talk to him about this, get his okay before we plan anything. I don’t care what Baker Street says—if Callahan says no, it’s no.”
Keira opened her mouth, then closed it again. She made a sound of disbelief, but she didn’t know what to say. She turned accusatory eyes on her partner. “Is that how you feel, too?”
Trace had that “deer in the headlights” look, but all he said was “It’s not my call,” then added in an undertone, “thank God.”
“I don’t believe this,” Keira said to him, hurt battling anger for dominance as she confronted him. “We’ve been partners for three years. I thought you trusted me.”
“I do,” Trace reassured her. “But I’m not Callahan. I can’t speak for him.”
“Look,” Cody began. “It’s nothing against you personally....”
The elevator door opened on the twelfth floor and Trace made his escape, but Keira stayed right where she was. She put her arm across the elevator door, preventing it from closing again, and when she did, her sleeve pulled up, exposing an ugly green-and-yellow bruise that encircled her wrist.
“God,” Cody said, suddenly distressed. “Did I do that to you?” He reached out and touched her wrist with two fingers, brushing the bruise so lightly it didn’t hurt. He raised a troubled face to hers.
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “It might have been you. Or it might have been one of the animals who jumped me.”
