Deadly Heat

Loose thoughts started to ping, but Heat didn’t like hunches. Facts were her

friend, and she could have used some. She thought a long moment. Then she steeled

herself and picked up the phone.

When Bart Callan answered, he seemed surprisingly cool to her. At prior meetings,

including the visit she’d just made to the Department of Homeland Security, the

agent had not only pressed her—relentlessly—to join his investigation team, he’d

wrapped his outreach in something more. The vibe Heat got was personal. She believed

Special Agent Callan wouldn’t have minded getting intimate. So when he said he was

kind of busy, Nikki felt taken aback. And what else? Maybe a little disappointed?

But then he fell into form. “I’m in the swamp and up to my ass in alligators, but

I could meet you later. Want to hook up for a cocktail?”

She said yes. And then felt guilty. And then wondered why.




Heat wanted to meet someplace packed and noisy, but Callan had an interview on the

Upper East Side and chose Bemelmans in the Carlyle, to her chagrin, a softly quiet

bar with leather upholstery, dreamy lighting, and worst of all, intimacy. She gave

him the long arm when they shook and let him take the banquette. Normally she liked

a view of the door, but a chair made her feel less trapped. She ordered a wine

spritzer, a drink Nikki despised, but she needed a clear head and didn’t want to

send a false cue with a gateway cocktail. He surprised her, going for a mineral

water. His second surprise was getting right to business.

“You’ll be happy to know we scored some surveillance pics of Salena Kaye following

her escape from that chopper.”

“That was quick,” she said, remembering the checkin she’d made on her way out of

the precinct house, of poor Raley still poring over miles of security video.

“Facial recognition software. I’ll zap you copies.”

“Great. Where did you pick her up?”

“Coming off the Q train in Coney Island. Speculation is she either operates out of

there or had a meet. We’re checking car services and other resources we have. If I

told you more, I’d have to, well, you know the rest.” He smiled and she felt

uneasy. After the waiter came with the drinks and left, he said, “Kaye must have

put up quite a fight to get away from you.”

“Please, I feel guilty enough. My combat skills have gotten a little rusty lately.



“The Navy SEAL?” he asked. “Tragic. His name was Don, right?” God, this guy did

his homework. Callan knew her murdered friend Don had been her close-combat sparring

partner. Nikki studied the DHS agent, wondering if he also knew that she and Don

once had a nostrings sexual relationship. The ex-SEAL used to call himself her

trainer with benefits. If Bart Callan knew about that part, he didn’t let on. So

she couldn’t tell if there was deeper meaning when he said, “Listen, if you want a

new partner, I love a good workout.”

Her gaze left his to dwell on the walls of the bar, which she recognized had been

illustrated by the same artist who’d drawn the Madeline books. “I called because I

want to hear again about your contact with my mother,” she said, glancing back his

way, glad now to be on her ground. “A few weeks ago you said something about an

informant.”

“There’s not much more I can tell you.”

“Then tell me again.”