The Line Between Here and Gone (Forensic Instincts)

by Andrea Kane

  “You all know that I asked Hutch for his help in finding Paul Everett,” Casey began, interlacing her fingers in front of her. “He spent a good portion of the day making phone calls and sending out emails. He came back with nothing.”

  “So Everett’s not in the FBI’s internal system,” Marc mused aloud. “That surprises me. I tried to connect with Hutch, but he was locked in the office doing his thing. Given how long it was taking, I assumed he was getting some significant information. Guess I was wrong.”

  “You weren’t wrong.” Casey had that no-bullshit look about her. “I’m sure he got an earful.”

  Claire looked puzzled. “But you just said he came back with nothing.”

  “They shut him down.” Marc was watching Casey as he spoke. “Whatever Paul Everett is connected to, the Bureau doesn’t want us poking around in it. So whatever they did tell Hutch, he can’t pass it along to us.”

  “That’s the gist of it.” Casey nodded. “I’m sure there’s plenty they didn’t even reveal to Hutch. But, whatever he found out, he can’t share it. My bringing him into the loop was a mistake. If anything, I hurt us—and Amanda—by sharing details with him. Now he knows how far we’ve gotten in our investigation, and what our trump cards are. If he feels compelled to, he can pass that on to the Bureau. You know how principled he is. I screwed up. I’m sorry.”

  Ryan and Claire exchanged glances—the first time they’d looked at each other since he’d left her apartment. But this glance was one of understanding. Now they knew what was causing the negative energy Claire couldn’t shake, and what the unintended deception was that she’d sensed.

  Claire gave Ryan a quick nod of affirmation, before turning her attention back to the team. He got her message loud and clear. No need to poke around further. The team was, once again, in sync.

  “You didn’t screw up, Casey,” Patrick was saying. “We all knew you were bringing Hutch on board—and that includes Amanda. We took a risk. Marc and I are both former FBI—we know how it works. If this is a classified case, then Hutch’s hands are tied.”

  “Yes and no,” Marc amended. He gave Casey a long, hard look. “What exactly did Hutch say—or not say?”

  A hint of a smile touched Casey’s lips. As always, Marc was right on her wavelength.

  “What I inferred from his responses is that Paul Everett is a key player in a broader—and classified—federal investigation. What’s more, Fenton and Mercer are both touchy subjects, too, which tells me that they’re subjects of interest in this case, too. In what capacity or how deeply they’re involved, I don’t know. What I do know is that Paul Everett is definitely alive. Whatever Hutch’s contacts told him, I can tell he believes that. And, if he believes that, it’s true.”

  “Did you get the feeling that either Fenton or Mercer knew about Everett?” Ryan asked.

  “No.” Casey shook her head. “I’m not saying they didn’t play a role in his disappearance, but I don’t think they know where he is now. If they did, the Bureau would be hauling their asses in.”

  “They’re not the same,” Claire pronounced.

  “Who?”

  “Mercer and Fenton. They have different levels of involvement. Fenton’s aura is dark. Mercer’s is much grayer. It’s also more muddied, as if he’s torn between dark and light.”

  “He sounds like a friggin’ Jedi knight,” Ryan muttered.

  Claire shot him an irritated look. “No. He’s torn, part victim and part offender. I feel sorry for him.”

  “You would.”

  “Ryan, cut it out.” Casey was in no mood for this. And, frankly, she was surprised. Ryan didn’t sound teasing, he sounded downright obnoxious—a line he rarely crossed, especially during intense team discussions.

  He seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same moment, because he looked sheepish and unusually off balance. “Sorry, boss. I’m just on overdrive since the fire last night.”

  Casey’s gaze flickered from Ryan to Claire and back, but she accepted his explanation with a nod.

  “I agree with Claire,” she said. “Mercer’s like a fly in a web. I’m sure he’s playing dirty politics. But I don’t think he’s in this thing anywhere near as deep as Fenton.”

  “True. Even so, I don’t think Fenton knows where Everett is,” Marc noted. “If he did, he’d get him here to save Justin.”

  “Well, someone knows where Everett is,” Patrick replied. A long, thoughtful pause. “Unless, of course, Everett faked his own death and disappeared on his own. Anybody considered that?”

  “Yes.” Casey answered that one right away. “I considered many things. That’s the other reason I called this team meeting. I want to explore various scenarios, and either eliminate or confirm them, one by one.”

  “Getting our answers by whatever methods necessary?” Marc asked quietly.

  “Getting our answers by whatever methods necessary,” Casey replied. She knew exactly what Marc was implying. She also felt Patrick’s scowl. Still, she didn’t hesitate or back down. “We’re moving forward with one goal in mind—saving Justin’s life by finding his father. I don’t care how we do it. But it has to be fast.”

  “Casey…” Patrick interjected.

  “I know where you stand on this, Patrick.” Casey waved it away. “But the circumstances have changed. We’re operating at a federal level now. The FBI now knows we’re all over this, and that we’re not going to stop. They’ll thwart us every chance they can. We’ve got to anticipate their attempts to do so and sidestep them before they can gain traction.”

  “You have a targeted plan?” Marc asked.

  “Yes. And you’re all going to help me fast-track it to completion.”

  With that, she swiveled her chair around to face the wall. “Yoda, please create a virtual workspace.”

  Yoda responded instantly.

  “Creating a virtual workspace, Casey,” he said. A minute passed, and the video wall came alive, bathing the room in an electric-blue glow. “Virtual workspace created and ready.”

  “Please create topics as follows: Criminal Offender, Fugitive, Confidential Informant, Dead, Witness Protection.”

  She pivoted again to glance around the table. “Anything else?”

  “He’s not an illegal. He’s not a military deserter. I think you’ve covered it all,” Marc replied.

  “That should do it, Yoda,” Casey informed him.

  “Topics created,” Yoda announced.

  Immediately, the master video wall was divided into five equal sections, each section headed up by one of the topics Casey had requested.

  “Good.” Casey spread her notes out across the table. “Okay, team, let’s brainstorm each topic. Yoda, please transcribe all our comments. Summarize the points of consensus and disagreement. Display our progress in real time on a whiteboard for each.”

  “All right, Casey. I am ready.”

  “Team, let’s begin by addressing the option of Paul Everett being a criminal offender.”

  “Wait,” Claire interrupted. “The moment you spelled out the topics, and then again when I saw them in writing, I got that powerful sense of binary energy again. The pull is way too strong for us to ignore. Casey, whatever he is, Paul Everett is not dead. I understand you have to explore every option, but that should be our last. Not only because I know I’m right, but because it’s futile to pursue an avenue that’s of no use to Amanda. Finding out that Justin’s father isn’t alive defeats our purpose, and hers. Frankly, it’s a waste of time.”

  The rest of the team nodded. Even Ryan didn’t dispute Claire’s argument.

  “We all seem to be in agreement,” Casey replied. “Adding Hutch’s reaction to the equation, let’s shelve ‘dead’ for the very end and concentrate on the other scenarios.”

  “You can save time on the Witness Protection debate,” Patrick said with great reluctance. “Ditto with the fugitive discussion. Either possibility is strong, given the possible mob connection and the fact that whoever made Everet
t disappear went to great lengths to make it convincing.”

  “And?” Casey prompted.

  Patrick cleared his throat, fiddling with his pen and keeping his gaze lowered. Whatever he was about to say, he clearly did not want to say.

  “I have an old buddy with the U.S. Marshals,” he replied at last. “He owes me a bunch of favors. I’ll call one in. He can do the necessary digging to find out whether or not Paul Everett is in the Witness Protection Program or a known and wanted fugitive. He’s not going to like it. I don’t like it. But he’ll do it.” A defensive pause. “I’m not asking him for any details,” Patrick clarified. “So don’t press me for them. I’m just looking for a yes or no on both counts. That’s the best I can do.”

  “It’s great.” Casey knew how much Patrick loathed going this route. It went against every straight-and-narrow grain in him. “We don’t need to know your friend’s name or any specifics about Paul’s situation.” A brief pause as Casey tested the waters. “Do you think your friend would be willing to get a message to Paul? Would you be comfortable asking?”

  Another scowl. “I doubt that Everett’s in the Witness Protection Program. If he were, he’d still have internet access. Which means he’d have seen the YouTube video and reacted. If he’s a fugitive, however…” A thoughtful pause. “Then we’re probably screwed. But, rather than speculate, I’ll make the phone call and ask the question. I’ll do it right after our meeting breaks up.”

  “Thank you.” Casey turned back to the screen. “That leaves us with two options to discuss and pursue. Criminal Offender and Confidential Informant. Let’s throw out the pros and cons. We’ll take our assignments from there.”

  They discussed and debated those two possibilities until they’d slimmed down the options Everett could have taken within each, and decided on the best ways to proceed.

  Marc and Ryan were going back to the Hamptons that night and installing Gecko in Morano’s trailer. Ryan was simultaneously going to fine-tune, intensify and finish his in-depth study of Morano’s and Everett’s histories, going as far back as necessary to find a connection between the men or an inconsistency in Everett’s background.

  Casey was going straight to Detective Jones. In person. No more cat-and-mouse telephone games. She would get into the troop barracks to see the guy, and to eyeball him face-to-face as she fired questions at him. In addition to that, she’d call in every favor and pull out every stop with the NYPD, since she’d consulted for them before forming Forensic Instincts. They’d hopefully have a handle on the CI angle, especially given mob involvement. Maybe she could even get them to tap into one of their own who was working on an FBI task force and could—and would—get her answers on whether or not Everett was a federal informant.

  Claire was driving out to the Hamptons with Marc and Ryan, then going her own way. She was determined to revisit Paul’s cottage and Amanda’s apartment—alone—and immerse herself in their energies until she finished what she’d started when she went out there the first time. Being alone, without distractions, she felt she’d have a stronger chance of keying into something. Plus, she’d been involved in this case longer now, giving her a better shot at connecting with the people and their circumstances than she’d had a few days ago.

  Hero was going, too. But not for Claire.

  This was the hard part, the part that Patrick winced at when the discussion turned to Marc.

  After breaking into Morano’s trailer, Ryan and Marc had another stop to make. This one was Marc’s to do solo. Actually, not solo. With Hero.

  Ryan was driving them out to the Shinnecock Bay marina where Lyle Fenton docked his private yacht. Ryan had dug up not only that piece of information, but the fact that, during the winter months, Fenton’s yacht was housed in a vacant building he’d purchased adjacent to the marina, where it was safe from the elements and readied for the next boating season.

  Marc was going to break in. After that, he had three goals in mind. One, to thoroughly search the yacht for anything even remotely incriminating. Two, to take a few of Fenton’s personal items—things he’d never miss—from which to make scent pads for Hero for future use. And three, to bring along previously made scent pads of Paul Everett, so that Hero could tell Marc if Everett had ever been on Fenton’s yacht.

  Breaking into that building and boarding that yacht required a stealthy approach or a search warrant.

  Marc was an expert on the former. The latter was not something he gave a damn about. Yes, the risks were higher than they would be when he and Ryan broke into Morano’s trailer. Fenton might even have a security guard there. And Marc wasn’t going alone, which would have made invisibility a snap for a former Navy SEAL. He had Hero with him. A bloodhound couldn’t be concealed. So he and Marc would have to be casually but openly visible. That task didn’t faze Marc in the least. He was a creative guy. He’d get himself and Hero in that building and on board that yacht.

  The whole team was aware that, if Marc managed to get anything on Fenton, he’d be paying him another visit at his East Hampton home. And this time, the meeting wasn’t going to be quite as civil as the last time.

  This was the part where Patrick gritted his teeth. He understood what was coming, and it went against everything he stood for. But he’d known what he was signing up for when he’d joined Forensic Instincts. He wouldn’t stop the team from breaking the laws he’d spent his entire career enforcing—not because his gut reaction wasn’t to do exactly that, but because he’d learned to keep his eye on the prize. FI didn’t jump into sketchy operations hastily. But they did what had to be done. And what had to be done now was to find Paul Everett so he could save his son’s life.

  Patrick forced himself to think about Amanda, and about little Justin who was struggling for his life. Then he steeled himself and kept his mouth shut.

  Picking up on Patrick’s tension, Casey turned to give him a questioning look. “Are you okay with all this?”

  “I can live with it,” he replied tersely.

  “Good. Because I have one more assignment for you.”

  Patrick arched a brow. “Does it involve killing anyone?”

  A hint of a smile. “Nothing like that. But it is a delicate task, one I don’t envy you for having to do. Still, it’s time for it to be done. And you’re the right person for the job.”

  There was no need to ask what job Casey was referring to.

  “You want me to tell Amanda about her uncle.”

  A nod. “She’s our client. She’s got to be brought up to speed—somewhat.”

  “How much do you want me to tell her?”

  “I’m not sure.” Casey raked her fingers through her hair. “Suggestions, team?”

  “Stick to the basics,” Marc responded. “Tell her that Fenton is a person of interest. Say that his business dealings are in question, and that he might have associates who aren’t on the up-and-up. Say that any one of those associates might have knowledge of what happened to Paul. Explain to her that we need to obtain the facts, and that we’re in the process of doing just that. And emphasize to her that she can’t, under any circumstances, alert Fenton to our suspicions—not yet.”

  “I agree, but make it more personal,” Claire amended. “Patrick, tie everything you say to Justin. Tell Amanda that she’s holding her tongue to protect Justin. That her uncle might be shady, but that he has no idea where Paul is. That, if he did, he’d produce him because, no matter what, Justin’s well-being is what’s most important to him. Trust me, Patrick. Take that approach when you break the news to her. It’s the only way Amanda will be able to rationally accept what you’re saying. Otherwise, emotion will take over and she’ll run off to confront her uncle and to demand answers—which is the last thing we want.”

  “I agree,” Casey said. “Marc’s procedure, Claire’s technique. Combine the two and you’ve got your strategy.” A sigh. “I’m sorry to dump this on you, Patrick. But you’re with Amanda the most, and she’s come to respect and rely upon you for
her safety.”

  “I’ll do it,” Patrick agreed. “But don’t you think it would be easier coming from Marc? He’s kind of her knight in shining armor.”

  “No.” Casey gave an adamant shake of her head. “Marc is definitely Amanda’s rock. But you’re her father figure. You’ve got a gentler touch and children of your own. Those are the qualifications that Amanda needs right now.”

  “Casey’s right.” Marc spoke with total objectivity. “My connection is with that poor baby. And, yeah, I know Amanda counts on me. But soothing and comforting aren’t my strengths, nor is walking the emotional line Claire just described. You’ll handle that a lot better than I would.” A corner of Marc’s mouth lifted. “And I’ll handle the illegal missions a lot better than you would.”

  “No arguments there,” Patrick said drily. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll head back to Sloane Kettering and relieve Roger right after I contact my buddy at the U.S. Marshals office.”

  “Excellent.” Casey glanced around the table. “Questions?”

  Silence, accompanied by four shakes of the head.

  “Good. Then let’s move.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  It was late when the FI van arrived in the Hamptons.

  Ryan was driving. He dropped Claire off at Amanda’s apartment. Then, he and Marc continued on. Hero was stretched out on the backseat of the van.

  It was going to be a busy night on Shinnecock Bay.

  First, they hit the Hampton Bays side of the bay, where Morano’s trailer was stationed. Both Marc and Ryan were dressed in black to blend in with the night. They left the van a short distance away. Hero stayed inside, his acute bloodhound instincts telling him this was a time to be quiet and still. Ryan took Gecko. Marc took his waist pack of tools. They headed for the trailer.

  “Wait.” Like last time, Marc extended his arm to block Ryan’s progress. “Get down.” He took his own advice, squatting low to the ground.

  “What now?” Ryan demanded, following suit. “Is someone torching the trailer?”