Shadow Man by Cody McFadyen Read Free Book Online Page A

sense?”
    “Yes.” I’m mesmerized.
    “Most people get hurt early. You and I—we’ve been lucky. Very, very lucky. We see the hurt, doing what we do, but it’s never been us. Not really. 38
    C O D Y M C F A D Y E N
    Look at you—you found the love of your life, had a beautiful child, and you were an ass-kicking FBI agent, a woman no less, all on the rise like a bright, shooting star. And me? I haven’t done so bad either.” She shakes her head. “I’ve managed not to get too full of myself, but the truth is, I’ve always had my pick of the guys, and I was lucky enough to have a brain to go with the bod. And I’m good at what I do at the Bureau. Real good.”
    “You are,” I agree.
    “But, see, that’s just it, honey-love. You and I have never really experienced tragedy. We’re alike in that way. Then all of sudden, the bullets stopped bouncing off of you.” She shakes her head. “The moment that happened, I couldn’t be fearless, not anymore. I was afraid, really afraid, for the first time in my life. Ever. And I’ve been afraid ever since. Because you are better than me, Smoky. You always have been. And if it can happen to you, it can damn sure happen to me.” She sits back, puts her hands flat on the table. “End of speech.”
    I have known Callie for some time. I have always known that she has depths uncharted. The mystery of those depths, glimpsed but not revealed, has always been a part of her charm for me, her strength. Now the curtain has parted for a moment. It’s like the first time someone lets you see them naked. It is the essence of trust, and I am touched in a way that makes me weak at the knees. I reach over and grab her hand.
    “I’ll do my best, Callie. That’s all I can promise. But I do promise that.”
    She squeezes my hand back, and then pulls it away. The curtain has been closed. “Well, hurry it up, will you, please? I enjoy being arrogant and untouchable, and I blame you for the lack thereof.”
    I smile and look at my friend. Dr. Hillstead had told me earlier that I was strong. But for me, it is Callie who has always been my private hero when it comes to strength. My crass-talking patron saint of irreverence. I shake my head. “I’ll be back in a minute,” I say. “I have to use the restroom.”
    “Don’t forget to put the lid down,” she says.
    I see it when I exit the bathroom, and what I see tells me to stop. Callie isn’t aware of me yet. Her attention is focused on something in her hand. I step to the side, so that the doorway blocks her view of me a little, and stare.
    Callie looks sad. Not just sad—bereft.
    S H A D O W M A N
    39
    I have seen Callie be scornful, gentle, angry, vengeful, witty—any number of things. I have never seen her sad. Not like this. And I know, somehow, that it has nothing to do with me.
    Whatever she holds in her hand is bringing my hero to something just short of grief, and I am shocked.
    I am also certain that this is a private thing. Callie will not want to know that I have seen her this way. She may only have one face to show the world, but she chooses what parts of it to show. She hasn’t chosen to show me this, whatever this is. I go back into the bathroom. To my surprise, one of the older women is there, washing her hands, and she glances at me in the mirror. I look back, biting a thumbnail as I think. Come to a decision.
    “Ma’am,” I say, “can you please do me a favor?”
    “What’s that, dear?” she asks, not missing a beat.
    “I have a friend outside . . .”
    “The rude one with the awful eating habits?”
    Gulp.
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “What about her?”
    I hesitate. “She . . . I think she’s having a private moment right now. Because I’m in here, and she’s alone. . . . I—”
    “You don’t want to surprise her in that moment, is that it?”
    Her instant and perfect understanding makes me pause. I stare at her. Stereotypes, I think again. So useless. I had seen an uptight, judgmental crone. Now I