“That’s right,” he said. “And we’ll see how polite the Maven of Manners
is after he finds out his in-depth interview wasn’t for any article.” Smart. Even
if Rook hadn’t picked up on her cautionary note, he knew enough to be circumspect.
Yardley Bell said, “I’d like to see what your process is, Jamie.” She turned to
the others. “Could you give us a moment?”
Heat didn’t like getting split up. Not tactically, not personally. But when Rhymer
slid out with his Diet Pepsi and half-eaten club, Callan held the door for Nikki.
She hesitated and left, too.
Alone again in the captain’s glass house, Heat said, “So, was divide and conquer
part of your drop-in strategy?”
“For the record, it wasn’t my idea to come here to brace you.”
“Who’s running your case, Agent Callan?”
“It gets complicated. It’s my office, my control, but Agent Bell packs major
Beltway clout. She Bigfoots my whole day whenever she gets a wild hair.” He threw
his palms open. “And here we are.”
“This is why I told you I didn’t want to get tangled up inside your little
investigative community,” she said.
“I want to talk to you some more about that.”
“You can save it.”
“What if I said I agree with you?” He waited while she had time to absorb that
surprise. “That’s right. I’ve been giving it some thought since our cocktails the
other night, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be on this team.”
She studied him warily. “Just like that, you change your mind?”
“More like a change of heart.” He rolled his chin to the glass like he didn’t
want an interruption. Or scrutiny, maybe. “Heat, I think I’m feeling a little
personal about you, and that wouldn’t be good for a close working relationship.”
“Right,” she said immediately, but then felt at a loss; not prepared for this, not
at all.
One teenage summer on Cape Cod she had gotten it in her head to teach herself to
windsurf. Starting after breakfast and going until sundown, Nikki’s day did not
become the blissful, athletic sail she had envisioned. Instead, it devolved into a
relentless series of crashes, spills, and wipeouts punctuated by mere seconds of
balance until a sudden gust or rogue wave pitched her into another endo. Nikki
stared at Bart Callan and wondered how her entire life had become like that day. Of
all the curves she’d been thrown lately, of all the complications she had pulling
at her, this one could be the most damaging. She sensed jeopardy if she mishandled
this.
“I didn’t want to say anything about it, but I know you sort of got the vibe,” he
said, then waited for her to respond. She didn’t, so he continued, “I sure got it
from you.”
And there it was. The second wave, the blindsider. Had she flirted? She sure didn’t
feel she had. Did she have a few “what if” thoughts? Who didn’t? As she regained
her center, Heat knew exactly what she had to say. “Bart, you need to know
something.” She made sure the eye contact left no ambiguity. “I am in a
relationship now.” She didn’t elaborate. Didn’t tell him he was a nice guy or
anything that might leave a door open or be subject to interpretation. For good
measure, she added, “It’s important to me.”
He nodded and said, “I hear you.”
She smiled. “Good.”
Then his gaze swept to the hallway where Yardley Bell stood in close conversation
with Rook. “But let’s keep in touch.” He looked back at Nikki and said, “You
never know.”
As soon as her surprise company departed, Heat jumped back into the pressing
business of hunting the serial killer. It wasn’t until nine that night, in the back
of the town car he had ordered to drive them to his loft, that they were able to
connect. “What did you and Agent Yardley talk about?”
“If you’re wondering if I mentioned The Thing, I didn’t mention The Thing. Give
me some credit.”
“Maybe some,” she said, wrapping it in a tease. “But seriously, you did make a
quick pickup of my Eugene Summers meaning.”