Chapter 26 · The Lever Doesn't Give

"Move." Calder shoved past me, both hands on the release lever, shoulder braced against the steel like he could out-muscle a boat.

It didn't move. Not a millimeter. The metal groaned under his weight and stayed exactly where it was, wedged tight from the other side.

"Who killed Kessel." I said it flat, no question mark, because I wasn't asking anymore. I had the ledger pressed against my ribs, both arms locked around it like it could stop a bullet. "You said the wheel. You said the river. You didn't say the name."

Calder didn't turn around. His back was a wall of tension, jaw working, forearms corded from pulling on a lever that had already decided the answer for him.

"Ira."

"Say it."

"Not now." His voice came out low, rough at the edges, the kind of rough that isn't temper, it's fear wearing temper's coat. He hit the lever again with the flat of his palm. Nothing. Not even a shudder in the housing.

The air in the panic room had gone thick, that damp-metal taste climbing the back of my throat.