“Is that why we have it all to ourselves?” He dropped his gym bag in a
corner then stripped off his sweats down to his basketball shorts and a Homeland T-
shirt with the sleeves hacked off, revealing seriously ripped upper arms. She
wondered if he had altered his tee just for her.
Heat and Callan double fist-bumped in the center of the mat to signal readiness.
Nikki shifted her weight back and forth on the balls of her feet to get a read of
him, and in an instant, she got her assessment. He made a feint left and a lunge
right, grabbing her waist and sending her to the mat. “Finally,” he said.
“Contact.”
“Man.” She got up and said, “Rusty.”
This time she went for him. As she came forward, he dropped to a knee and flipped
her over his back, and she came down with a thud on the mat. “Remember, you called
me,” he said. “You sure you’re up for this?”
“We’ll see. I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“The arraignment?” He waved the air dismissively. “Don’t sweat that.”
They circled each other, throwing decoys and fakes, nobody committing yet. “I’m
fine with the arraignment. I was awake because I finally broke a coded message my
mom left me.” She threw a low shoulder, straight to his waist. He didn’t react in
time and he went down. This time, she helped him to his feet. “She definitely
busted Carey Maggs.”
“A little late now that we closed the case, but congrats.”
Heat shook her arms to keep limber. “Bart, when I asked you to check Maggs out,
didn’t you send me an e-mail clearing him?” He must have thought she had her guard
down. He suddenly dropped to his seat and made a leg sweep toward the backs of her
knees. But Nikki jumped his move like a double-Dutch, landed on her feet, then
danced in place, letting him haul himself up this time.
“Can’t believe I just whiffed.” He got on his feet, and shook his head at getting
skunked.
“Didn’t you say Maggs was clean?”
He forearmed some sweat off his brow. “Database doesn’t catch everything.”
“Guess not,” she said. He tried to shoulder-tackle her at the waist, but she
rolled with it and landed on top of him. She hopped to her feet. While he bounced to
his, she said, “Got a question for you about the helipad, the other night.”
“Heat, are we here to spar or talk?”
“How did you know to get there first?”
“I told you, Yardley Bell told me.” He moved for her right side. She expected a
fake, but he committed and clotheslined her down.
She said, “Rook said he never told her.”
“How else would I know?”
“Hinesburg, maybe?” She got to her feet, watching him closely.
“Hinesburg? Why would I be talking with Hinesburg?” They came at each other at the
same time, locking up their arms. Standing at a stalemate. They broke apart and
danced a circle sideways, facing each other.
“Weird thing,” said Heat. “When we searched Hinesburg’s stuff, we found her
backup gun. At home.”
He side-danced some more. “So she had another. What the hell is this?”
“And my friend, the ME, caught up with me over the weekend. She found trace metals
and powder burns on Hinesburg’s entry wound.”
“What can I say? My cannon barks.” He made a move for her, but pulled back when
she got ready to counter. Then, when she let down, he rolled her across his hip onto
the mat. He put out a hand and pulled her up.