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“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.
