Free Cold Silence (A High Stakes Thriller) by Danielle Girard

made her smile. He had grown up. He was growing up, she corrected herself. Dear God. She prayed he was still.
    "That's R.J.'s, too," Peter confirmed.
    Travis walked back into the room, holding a slip of paper. He frowned when he saw her holding the jacket.
    She put the Gameboy back in the pocket. "I'll just leave it here."
    Travis looked confused.
    "It was in his jacket pocket," Peter explained.
    Travis raised his eyebrows at his son. "You borrowing each other's toys?"
    "We always share stuff."
    "It was nice of you to loan R.J. your jacket, Peter. When R.J. comes home, I promise not to let him borrow it again. And I appreciate your help."
    "Sure, Mrs. O'Brien. Tell R.J. to call me when he gets home, okay?"
    Cody didn't answer him. She couldn't bear to.
    Travis walked her to the door. "Please let us know if there's anything we can do to help."
    * * *
    Cody held the mobile phone in a trembling hand. She had to call. To find Oskar Kirov, she'd have to rely on someone. She thought about Mark's old colleagues, but she'd never known any of them well enough. The one man Mark had trusted without question had died the same day he did. She'd been through the people from her own past.
    She needed help: information on Kirov and his most recent associates.
    She paced across the basement floor again. She'd gone over the names in her head and there was only one person who could potentially help her. One person whom Cody still thought she could trust. Jennifer Townsend. They had been close when she was at the Bureau.
    Cody stared at the phone, the memory of that morning in New Orleans flashing back at her, the heat almost blinding even now. She had never discovered the source of the leak, but she was sure it had come from the Office of Professional Responsibility, the Bureau's version of Internal Affairs. They were the only ones who had access to her whereabouts.
    No, Cody had to trust someone, and Jennifer Townsend was her best bet. That was what this was now—a gamble. If she didn't make the call, she knew she'd never see Ryan again. And that was not an option. With a deep breath, she opened the phone, powered it on, and dialed the number from memory.
    It was one o'clock in the morning there. She would just leave a message with what she needed and let Jennifer know she'd call back.
    The phone rang twice and then someone picked up. "Computer Intrusion Squad," a woman's voice answered.
    Cody hesitated. "Jennifer?"
    "No, this is Mei. Can I help you?"
    Cody shook her head and then forced herself to speak. "Is Jennifer in?"
    "No, she's..." Mei paused and Cody felt herself holding her breath. "She's gone. Can I leave her a message?"
    "No. This is her sister. I'll just call back." Cody hung up before Mei could say anything else. Damn it. Since when did agents answer each other's phones? Would Mei have recognized her voice? She gripped the phone in her fist and hoped Jennifer was still on speaking terms with her sister. They'd never been close.
    Furious with herself, Cody punched in the number for Jennifer's old pager, and when the recording started, she dialed the code that they had established to mean the other one needed help: 911, then a 0, then the last four numbers of her badge number from the Bureau. At least Jennifer would know who called. And, she hoped, Mei wouldn't. With that finished, she returned the phone to its spot under the storage cabinet in the cold basement, grabbed a shovel, and headed outside in the dark.
    Cody worked with an efficiency she hadn't felt since right after Mark's death. Shovel in hand, she followed the path out back to the small plot she'd dug when they had moved into the house. She began to dig. The rain had stopped, and though the air was still cool, sweat trickled down the back of her neck and her back. She ignored it.
    Her heart pounded, throbbed even as the earth crunched beneath her shovel. Her throat burned. Crunch. Dump. Crunch. Dump. She moved in perfect strokes without slowing or stopping. Anything to