by Andrea Kane
“Very well.” A pause. “Local news will now begin in twelve minutes thirty-four seconds. Internet video feeds displaying now.”
“Good.”
As Casey had expected, the Long Island news stations were the first to scroll the breaking news of the fire across the bottom of the screen. A few minutes after noon, CBS showed a live report on the fire itself. Obviously, they’d had a TV crew in the area filming something else and had diverted them to the scene of the fire for more sensational coverage. The CBS reporter stated that they were awaiting confirmation from the local authorities that the fire was suspicious. Minutes later, ABC echoed the same information.
Casey’s phone rang. A quick glance at the caller ID.
“Hey, Ryan. Did you find anything in the phone records?” Casey asked. “Or are you just calling to tell me that the local news stations are jumping the gun on the arson story.”
“Actually, both,” Ryan replied. “Nothing on the phone records. The burner phone is probably lying at the bottom of the East River. And I’m glad you heard the local news reports.”
“I not only heard them, I’m watching them right now. As Yoda pointed out, CBS and ABC have midday news coverage. And the reporters are all over the arson story.”
“Did you reach Jones?”
“What do you think?”
Ryan chuckled. “I think he’s in deep shit and trying to shovel his way out with a teaspoon.”
“For sure. But I’ll get through to him. He can’t dodge me forever. I’ll just drive there and get in his face.” Casey paused, a fine tension lacing her tone. “Justin had another setback this morning,” she said. “It was pretty rough at the hospital.” She went on to explain the pneumothorax to Ryan.
“What happened?” she heard Marc call out from the background.
“Hang on,” Ryan said to Casey. She heard him telling Marc the specifics.
“Give me the phone,” Marc responded.
No surprise there. Not when there was a baby involved.
“Is he okay?” Marc asked Casey without prelude.
“Right now, yes. He’s holding his own,” she replied. “For how long? I don’t know. I’m no doctor, but it seems to me that Justin’s compromised immune system can only fight off so many setbacks.” She swallowed, then spoke to Marc with her customary honesty. “If you’re asking me if I’m worried—more worried than before—yes, I am. I feel like the clock is ticking away—louder and louder. I feel like we’re chipping away at our investigation, making small gains here and there, but nothing substantial enough to write home about. Hutch is on it now. Maybe we’ll get lucky and Paul Everett will show up in the Bureau system. But we can’t count on it.”
“I might still beat the crap out of Lyle Fenton,” Marc muttered with none of his usual composure. “You and I both know he’s up to his neck in this whole dirty dealing.”
“I agree. But the bottom line is, he doesn’t know where Paul is. He wouldn’t let Justin die. And finding Paul is all we’re focused on. Law enforcement can handle the rest.”
“Yeah. Right. Fine.” Marc blew out a frustrated breath. “We’re done here. Ryan slapped a GPS on Morano’s car before the guy took off for the arson site. Since then, Ryan’s been digging into phone records. Now he’s back to cross-checking Everett’s and Morano’s pasts. He can do that best in the office. We’ll pack up and head to the city.”
“Fine.” Casey knew exactly what was on Marc’s mind. “And, yes, Amanda did ask for you. But Patrick is there in his security capacity. And Amanda has started to trust him in a kind of father figure way. So she’s in good hands. You can’t be in all places at all times, Marc. I know you want to save Justin. We all do. But that’s not always accomplished by being Amanda’s babysitter. She’s a strong woman. And, as for the investigation, she needs to count on all of us, not just you.”
“I’m not trying to play knight in shining armor,” Marc assured her. “And I know very well what a shrink would say—that I’m compensating for what I’ve witnessed in the past by trying to save this one infant’s life. I’m sure that’s true. I’m also sure that nothing is going to erase memories that are burned inside my brain. But I’m the one who took on this case. I feel responsible—not only to Amanda, but to the team.”
“I know you do. That’s who you are.” Casey thought for a moment. “You’re right. There’s nothing else you can accomplish in Long Island, not at the moment. So come home. You drive. That way, Ryan can keep doing his computer search on the road.”
* * *
The two men sat across from each other in the private room, their conversation low and intense.
“They’re trying to tap into the FBI’s resources now,” one of them said.
“I know. And we can’t let that happen.” The second man slammed his fist on the table. “What the hell does it take to scare these pain-in-the-ass investigators off?”
“We haven’t found it yet,” the first man replied. “But we will.”
Fallujah, Iraq
The trip had been arduous—and it still wasn’t over.
He’d caught the first flight to Ali Al Salem Airbase in Kuwait City, where he’d taken a military transport to Baghdad. If he was being stationed at the New Embassy Compound, it would be fairly simple, assuming the daily threat condition was in his favor. But he was heading out of Baghdad, traveling to Fallujah and one of the forward operating bases. Ground transportation was an impossibility. He would have to rely on military transport by helicopter. And who the hell knew when that could be arranged? Between the sandstorms that shut them down, the limited seating and the erratic schedule, it could be days before he traveled the ten fucking miles to his destination.
The urgency for this had been off-the-charts, and unnecessary.
Something was going on.
He just wasn’t sure what.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Claire had the oddest feeling.
And it wasn’t a happy one.
It was one of deception. And the deception was happening within the tight circle of Forensic Instincts.
She paced around her apartment as long as she could. She had to share this with someone. But who?
Ryan.
She had no idea why his name popped into her head. She could just as easily have talked to Casey or Marc or Patrick. But, for some reason, she knew the one to talk to was Ryan. The aura of deceit didn’t come from him. It was elsewhere, cloudy, but real. But Ryan’s aura was clear.
They’d probably argue. But she had to take a chance.
She pressed his number on speed dial.
“Hey, Claire-voyant, what’s up?” He sounded preoccupied.
“Are you back in the office?” she asked.
“Nope. In the car. Why?”
Instead of an answer, Claire asked another question. “In the car—where?”
“On the way back to the city with Marc.” He sounded more attentive now. “Is there a problem?”
“I’m not sure. I’m also not sure why I called you about it. But would it be possible for Marc to drop you off at my place?”
“Now that sounds intriguing.” The familiar teasing note was back in his voice.
“It is. But not for the reasons you mean.” Claire didn’t banter back the way she normally would. She was too preoccupied.
A slight pause. “Sure. We’re almost home anyway. And I’ve been working since we left Westhampton Beach. I can take a milk-and-cookies break.”
“I have soy milk and organic wafer cookies. I also have full leaf tea and three different kinds of all-natural juice.”
“How will I choose?” Ryan asked wryly. “How about a Blue Moon?”
“What?” Claire was genuinely puzzled. “I can’t conjure up a blue moon. They only occur on the rare seasons when there
have already been three full moons and…”
“The beer, Claire, not the lunar phenomenon.”
“Oh.” Claire was quiet for a moment, digesting that piece of information. “I’ll have a Sam Adams. My father drinks those.”
“Thank God for your father. Sam Adams it is. I’ll be there in about a half hour.”
* * *
Claire was still pacing around her studio apartment when Ryan arrived.
“Hi,” Claire said as she let him in. “Thanks for coming.”
“No problem.” Ryan was surveying the place, which was so the antithesis of his computer and gadget-crammed apartment, it was almost funny.
Shutting the door behind Ryan, Claire turned to say she would get him his beer when she noticed what he was doing and realization struck.
“You’ve never been here before,” she announced. She’d been so consumed with her sense of unease that she’d forgotten all about that fact. She’d also forgotten to give Ryan her address.
“Yeah, I know.” Ryan strolled into the living-room area, still taking in the uncluttered, softly decorated apartment. “Nice place. Very you. Am I allowed to sit on the sofa? Or is that only for show? Do I have to go for lotus position on the floor?”
Claire ignored his taunts. “I never gave you my address. How did you know where I lived?”
Ryan’s smile reached his eyes. “Didn’t Casey tell you? I hack into everyone’s personnel files when they first come on board. It makes me feel more connected to my teammates.”
“That’s reassuring. Isn’t it also illegal?”
“Isn’t lots of what we do?”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Good thing I have nothing to hide. Have a seat—on the sofa, since it’s allowed. I’ll get your beer.”
She headed into the galley kitchen, returning a minute later with a bottle of Sam Adams and a plate of cookies. “Isn’t it a little early in the day for a drink?” she asked, handing him the bottle and setting the plate on the coffee table.
“Normally? Yes. After the night I’ve had? No.”
“Understood.” Claire sat down across from Ryan, her brows knit in concern. “Watching that office burn to the ground must have been pretty unnerving.”
“Not nearly as unnerving as wondering if Marc and I were going to be able to escape the scene without being killed by whatever nutcase torched that shack.” Ryan tipped back the bottle of beer and took a healthy swallow. “And now Amanda got a threatening phone call. I’m sure Casey told you.”
“She did. I called into the office this morning. The threatening phone call doesn’t surprise me. I’m constantly bugged by the sense of being watched—not just Amanda, but all of us. We must be getting closer to some truth or we wouldn’t be scaring people. I was more upset about Justin’s setback.”
“Yeah, that poor little kid. I hope he can hold on.” Ryan’s lips thinned into a grim line. “I never thought I’d be the team member who had to keep it together for the group, at least not outside my area of expertise. But Casey is a wreck, and Marc is practically apoplectic. Even Patrick’s getting emotionally involved, I guess because he’s a father. And you’re always a walking testament to empathy and compassion. So that leaves Hero and me. Oh, and Hutch, who’s doing some unofficial poking around for us.”
Claire didn’t argue the point. The fact that everyone was acting out of character didn’t please her. Not in light of what she was sensing.
“So why the urgency for us to talk?” Ryan asked. “You sounded pretty freaked out on the phone.”
“I am.”
“And you came to me. Should I be shocked or flattered?”
“Neither. I came to you because your energy is positive—at least where it comes to this.”
“You lost me.” Ryan made a gesture of noncomprehension. “What is ‘this’?”
Claire took a deep, cleansing breath. “Here’s a ridiculous request for me to make to the guy who hacked into my personnel file, but I’m making it anyway. Please keep this between us. It matters.”
“Then it’s done.”
“Thank you,” Claire said simply. She met Ryan’s curious gaze. “I’m getting some unusual negative energy. It’s persistent or I’d chalk it up to stress. But it’s real. And it worries me—a lot.”
Ryan did a double take. “You called me over here to discuss your psychic vibes? You sure you’re not the one who’s been drinking?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I called you over here because, as I said, the negativity isn’t coming from you. But it’s coming from inside the team. And that worries the hell out of me.”
After giving Claire a long, hard look, Ryan set down his beer. “Are you saying that someone at FI isn’t acting in the best interests of the team? Because then I know you’re crazy.”
Claire dragged a hand through her hair. “It’s not as black-and-white as that. It’s not necessarily that someone on the team is deceiving us. He or she could just have an additional, separate agenda—one that’s not being shared with the rest of the team. Our synchrony is out of whack. I’m sure of it. I’m just not sure of the details. Or of who’s throwing our rhythm off.” She gave Ryan a pleading look. “Don’t dismiss what I’m saying, not without checking it out.”
“Checking what out?” Ryan was beyond frustrated. “I’m not looking for a traitor at Forensic Instincts.”
“Ryan, you’re not listening to me. I’m not suggesting any one of us is a traitor. I’m saying that every one of us is reacting strongly to this investigation, in most cases uncharacteristically so. We’re all good at pushing boundaries. We need to find out who’s pushing in a separate direction. It could be for altruistic reasons. Maybe to protect the rest of the team. I don’t know. But something’s going on. And I can’t figure it out without help.”
Softening somewhat, Ryan picked up his beer again, rolling the bottle between his palms. “If it’s altruistic, why is it negative energy you’re feeling?”
“Because it’s hurting, not helping, what we’re trying to accomplish. The person doing it might not realize that, or, if they do, they’re keeping it from the team for a reason. I’m just speculating. But I need you to check into what everyone at FI has been up to these past few days—when they’re not with the group. Or even when they’re with the group, but can be doing their own thing simultaneously.”
“You’re one of the most ethical people I’ve ever met,” Ryan replied. “I can’t believe you’re asking me to do this.”
“I can’t believe it, either. But I have nowhere else to turn. And it’s necessary. I’m absolutely certain of it.”
“Shit.” Ryan gulped down the rest of his beer and stood up. “Do you know what’s even crazier than what you’re asking me to do? The fact that I’m going to do it for you.”
“I really appreciate it,” Claire said, coming to her feet. “I feel as horrible about this as you do. If I thought there was another way…but there isn’t.”
“Fine.” Ryan shook his head. “I don’t even believe in this crap. Auras. Energy. Flashes of who-knows-what. I must be as nuts as you are.”
“Maybe you have a modicum of faith in me.”
“Maybe I don’t know what the hell I have when I’m around you.” A pause. “And maybe I don’t care.”
Without warning, Ryan reached over and hauled Claire into his arms. He was kissing her before she could breathe, much less protest, and by the time it registered, protesting was the furthest thing from her mind.
“You drive me crazy,” Ryan muttered against her mouth. His hands tangled in her hair, anchoring her head so he could deepen the kiss.
Claire wasn’t sure who started undressing who first, nor was she sure who started backing them toward the bed. All she remembered was feeling the mattress under her back and Ryan’s weight pressing her into it as he dragged off t
he rest of her clothes.
They both knew that if they thought about what they were doing they would stop. And stopping was the last thing they wanted. So they didn’t think. They just shut down their minds and let their bodies take over.
Frantic urgency clawed at them both. Yet they refused to give in, instead savoring each caress, each hungry exploration of the other’s body. Ryan was an amazing and experienced lover, but Claire matched him touch for touch, taste for taste. By the time Ryan moved between her thighs, pushing all the way inside her, they were both shaking, desperate for completion.
Their jagged breaths, their harsh moans and the rhythmic squeaking of the bedsprings were the only sounds in the room. And then Claire gave a wild, thin cry, arching up as her entire body shattered into spasms. Ryan was right there with her, thrusting deep into her climax and shouting as he gave in to his own.
They both collapsed, Claire sinking into the bed, Ryan’s full weight pinning her in place. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going anywhere. Her limbs felt like water, and her entire body was quivering with aftershocks. Her breathing was as ragged as Ryan’s, who was still shuddering from the impact of his orgasm. Clearly, he was in no condition to move.
Claire hadn’t the faintest idea how much time passed. The two of them might have dozed, or they might just have floated in a semiconscious state. Claire had no idea. But at some point, she felt Ryan push himself up on his elbows and gaze down at her. Her own eyes were shut, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to open them. Right now, she didn’t have to think, didn’t have to talk, didn’t have to address what had just happened. But once she opened her eyes, all that was going to change.
“Claire.” Ryan wasn’t giving her a choice.
Her lashes fluttered, and with a great effort and even greater reluctance, she cracked open her lids.
“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding as bewildered as she felt. The expression on his face was one of sheer incredulousness.
“I don’t know,” she managed. “Are you?”