The Silence That Speaks

by Andrea Kane

  “From a behavioral standpoint, Casper was a wreck. He emanated guilt and deception. The question is, was that simply because he’s afraid Bitch Doctor will dump him if he doesn’t deliver her the job she wants? Or was it because he thought we were onto them for something a lot bigger than sex and political bullshit.” Marc frowned. “He’s a guilty man. I just don’t know how guilty. So we definitely can’t scratch him or Gilding off our list of suspects. The motive and the body tells are there.”

  Claire nodded again, taking longer strides to keep up with Marc.

  “Anything else in the claircognizant realm?” Marc asked.

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” Claire replied. “I got some different kind of harsh vibes from Janet Moss. That bruise of hers—I kept getting flashes of a major altercation and a severe threat. Whoever smacked her was female and in quite the rage. Plus, I kept getting a sense of Casey—as if she was right between them. Not physically but spiritually. Her presence was strong.”

  “You think they fought about her?”

  “Yes, I do. I wish I knew why.”

  Marc was quiet for a moment. “That bruise wasn’t fresh. It could have happened a few days ago.”

  Claire understood where he was going with this. “Such as right after Casey had lunch with Janet.”

  “Yup. Maybe that lunch pissed someone off—someone who didn’t want Casey plying these hallowed halls, where she might learn something they would prefer remained hidden.”

  Claire and Marc slowed down as they reached the subway stop and hurried down the steps to catch the next train.

  “Janet has no intention of staying away from Casey,” Claire stated, keeping her voice as low as she could for Marc to hear her over the throngs of people moving with them. “She’s scheduling a dinner with Casey. Plus, she was superfriendly to us, too. Clearly whoever struck her didn’t scare her off.”

  “That doesn’t mean she shouldn’t have. Janet could be grossly underestimating her enemy.”

  Something about Marc’s words gave Claire a dark feeling. “I’m afraid you’re right.”

  21

  THE FI TEAM was, yet again, gathered around the conference table, reviewing all the updated information that Marc and Claire’s outing had yielded. Patrick had rejoined them, after arranging for both John and Dave to safeguard Madeline and doubling up security for Conrad at Crest Haven.

  Ryan was conspicuously absent.

  “What’s the deal with Ryan?” Marc asked. “I heard him cursing all the way from the basement. What’s he up to?”

  “Playing with his toys,” Claire supplied.

  No one even blinked. They all knew that when Ryan was überfrustrated or pissed, he went to the robot section of his lair and tried out some of his new techno creations.

  Patrick scowled. “Does that mean he’s having trouble cracking the encrypted files?”

  “Yup,” Claire replied. “And I wouldn’t go down there if you paid me.”

  “Well, I want an update, good or bad,” Casey said. “So I’m not going down there, but he’s coming up here. Yoda,” she called out. “Please tell Ryan I want him to report to the conference room now with whatever data he has.”

  “Immediately, Casey,” Yoda replied.

  “This should be fun,” Emma commented, not looking particularly worried. To the contrary, she looked like the cat who swallowed the canary since Casey had invited her to sit in on this meeting—her very first meeting in the “Oval Office,” as she called it. Hell, it had been worth her morning candy striping shift to do this.

  “Yeah, take cover,” Marc said drily.

  A few minutes later, Ryan strode into the room, a pile of printouts in his hand, and shut the door. He walked over to the table, plopped his paperwork down and dropped into a chair.

  “I’m here,” he announced, looking and sounding like a petulant child.

  “Are we going to throw a temper tantrum?” Casey inquired. “Because if we are, don’t break anything.”

  Ryan shot her a look. “I’m frustrated as hell. See all this crap?” He pointed at the papers strewn across the table in front of him. “It’s all my attempts to crack Lexington’s encryption key. And I came up empty. Here’s the list of file names and the key phrases I tried—every fucking password I could think of. His birthday. His kids’ names. His wife’s name. His anniversary...”

  Casey sat up straighter. “What list?”

  Ryan shoved a sheet of paper toward her. “File names, none of which I can get into. Each one of them is a number, and they’re not sequential. Some have two digits, some have three or four, and there’s no pattern.”

  Casey glanced at the page. “We have no way of knowing why Ronald chose those numbers or what they connect to.” She frowned. “What we do know is that whatever this list represents, it’s pretty important. Otherwise, he wouldn’t go to such great lengths to protect its contents.”

  “Which doesn’t do a damned thing for us unless I can hack into those files,” Ryan replied. “I’ve been on this since Emma and I did our thing and I brought home the USB drive. I’m hitting one brick wall after another. And I don’t hit brick walls. It’s just not who I am.”

  Emma lowered her head to stifle a smile.

  “You need help,” Casey stated factually. “From a person who specializes in cracking encrypted data.”

  “Yeah, and who would that be?”

  Casey’s gaze flickered to Marc.

  He nodded. “I’ll call Aidan.”

  “Who the hell is Aidan?” Patrick asked.

  “My brother.”

  Claire’s head came up. “You have a brother?”

  A corner of Marc’s mouth lifted. “I’m not an alien, Claire. I have a life and a family outside of Forensic Instincts.”

  “Yeah, but you never mentioned him,” Patrick said, and then waved away his own comment. “Forget I said that. Need to know. Special Ops. I get it.”

  Claire was eyeing Ryan, who clearly liked this idea enough to calm him down. Actually, he was more than calm; he was nodding his approval. “Why don’t you look surprised?” she asked.

  “You know why.” Casey interlaced her fingers on the table. “Because Ryan hacked everyone’s file and read up on all of you.”

  “Yup.” Ryan grinned. “Like Yoda, I’m omniscient.” He turned to Marc. “Do you think Aidan would do it?”

  “If I ask him like a respectful younger brother, then yeah, I think he’d do it. That is if he’s in New York and not traveling God knows where.”

  Claire looked quizzical, although Marc’s comment made her smile. “Can I ask for details about this mysterious brother of yours, now that he’s been revealed?”

  “Sure.” Marc gave an offhand shrug. “Aidan’s three years older than I am. We went to the Naval Academy at Annapolis at the same time—he was a senior when I was a freshman. Not a lot of fun for me. He went on to the marines and became a hybrid intelligence officer and communications officer. In English, that means he thinks like an intel officer and acts like a communications officer. Among his achievements, he breezed right through an intensive Cryptological Divisions Officers Course.”

  “That’s how he can help us,” Claire murmured.

  “Uh-huh.” Marc went on. “I can’t tell you much more because everything he did in the military was classified, so I’m in the dark as much as you are. But once he moved on to civilian life, he went to work as a troubleshooter for Heckman Flax. He’s been there since.”

  “You said New York—do you mean he works right here in the city?” Patrick, along with Claire and Emma, looked startled.

  “Yup.”

  “Jesus, Marc, Heckman Flax isn’t just an investment bank. It’s like a hub for the financial geniuses of the world.”

  “True. And Aidan is respon
sible for all their trading platforms worldwide. He travels everywhere at a moment’s notice to put out fires. And there you have the story of my brother. Happy?”

  “Is he hot?” Emma asked.

  Marc rolled his eyes. “He’s old enough to be your father.”

  “If he got someone pregnant when he was in his teens, I guess that’s true,” Emma acknowledged. “But ick, I wasn’t thinking of him that way. I just wanted to know if he had your cool French-Asian looks.” She paused. “Although you really don’t have too much of the Asian on your mother’s side, except the slight slant of your eyes. Mostly there’s steamy European blood.”

  Marc was having trouble not laughing at Emma’s physical analysis. “Since you’re so into genetics and physical characteristics, I’ll let you meet Aidan and judge for yourself. How’s that?”

  “Cool.”

  Marc took out his cell phone and made the call.

  “Hey,” he greeted his brother. “Are you in New York?” A pause. “Good. My team’s in a bind here. We need your expertise....Yeah, some files that have to be decrypted....Yesterday, if possible.” Another pause. “Yeah, yeah, I know—marines rule. How fast can you get here?...That’s no problem—just bring her. She’ll have plenty of people to entertain her....Great. Thanks. See you.”

  He hung up. “Aidan will be here in about an hour.”

  “Who’s she?” Claire asked. “Who is it that we’ll be entertaining?”

  “Abby. Aidan’s daughter. The nanny’s sick so he’s on babysitting duty, and that’s harder than all our jobs combined. Abby is three and she’s a real operator. I’m afraid she’s going to grow up to be Emma.”

  “Hey,” Emma protested. “That’s a good thing.”

  “If you say so.”

  “It’s a moot point, anyway.” Casey had started to laugh. “With a military father and uncle? No way.”

  “How about Mrs. Aidan?” Emma asked.

  “There is none. Never was,” Marc answered. “Aidan was pretty heavily involved with someone in France. They reconnected in the U.S., and then eventually broke it off. She died in a car crash. He never even knew she was pregnant until social services showed up on his doorstep with Abby in their arms.”

  “Poor baby,” Claire murmured.

  “You won’t think so after she’s trashed your yoga room.” Marc’s words of warning were belied by the tender note in his voice. “She’s a pistol but she’s a heartbreaker. She has my tough brother wrapped around her tiny little finger.”

  “It sounds like she’s got her navy SEAL uncle wrapped that way, too,” Claire said.

  “Guilty as charged. I’m crazy about the little brat.”

  “This should be fun,” Emma said brightly.

  “It’s not about fun, Emma. It’s about work.” Casey brought her receptionist back to earth. “Aidan is coming here to help Ryan. But since you’re so psyched about this, you can be the chief babysitter. How’s that?”

  “Sure. Aidan can play with Ryan. I’m sure I can teach Abby a trick or two about torturing the Devereaux men.”

  22

  AN HOUR AND a half later, Emma wasn’t so sure.

  Aidan had arrived promptly like any respectable former marine. Emma had flown to the front door, leaving her chair swiveling around wildly from the motion.

  She punched in the dummy code and opened the door.

  Outside stood a tall, serious-looking man, with Marc’s straight black hair and broad shoulders. But Aidan’s eyes were navy blue and rounder, his forehead was high and his nose was more patrician than Marc’s. In his open cashmere coat and rock-hard build, he came across as even more intimidating than Marc—if that was possible.

  Beside him, jumping up and down and saying, “Daddy, is this where Uncle Marc works?” was an adorable little girl with a mop of dark hair and her father’s blue eyes and stubborn chin.

  “Yes, Abby, and we’re going to leave it in one piece,” Aidan said in a deep, loving voice. He glanced up at Emma and held out his hand. “I’m Aidan Devereaux. This is my daughter, Abby.”

  “Hi. We’ve been expecting you both. Come in.” Emma squatted down at once so she could meet Abby at eye level. “Hi, Abby, I’m Emma. Do you like cupcakes?”

  “Yes!” Abby exclaimed, her face lighting up.

  “Good, because I bought way too many, and I need help eating them.” Emma glanced up. “Is it okay with your daddy?”

  “It’s fine.” Aidan was hanging up his coat, revealing a navy sweater and jeans. “Just not too many. She’s already bouncing off the walls. More sugar will turn her into the Energizer Bunny.”

  Abby was poking Emma’s arm persistently. “I like shawclate better than vanela.”

  “Well, we have both. So chocolate it is.” Emma rose and extended her hand to Abby. “Come on. I’ll take you to the kitchen.”

  “’Kay.” Abby gripped Emma’s fingers tightly. “Bye, Daddy.”

  Aidan’s lips twitched. “Bye, princess.” He mouthed the words thank you to Emma.

  She smiled and called out, “Yoda, please summon the team and tell them Aidan’s here.”

  “No need, Yoda,” Casey said as the whole team descended the steps into the foyer. “We’re already here.”

  “Uncle Marc!” Abby broke away from Emma to rush over and propel herself into Marc’s arms.

  “Hey, you.” Marc caught her and gave her a huge bear hug. “Wow, you got heavy.” He pretended to drop her. “Did you get way taller since I saw you?”

  Abby laughed. “No, silly. You just sawed me...” She screwed up her face. “Friday.”

  “You know, you’re right. I must be getting weaker or something.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re strong. Like Daddy. ’Cuz you’re brudders.”

  “You were right the first time, princess,” Aidan said. “Uncle Marc must be getting weaker. He doesn’t work out as much as Daddy.”

  Marc shot him a look. “Where are you headed?” he asked Abby, tousling her hair.

  “That lady—” Abby pointed at Emma “—said she has cupcakes. I’m gonna help her eat them.”

  “Well, I won’t keep you, then.” Marc set her on her feet. “Just leave a couple for me, okay? Vanilla is fine. You can eat all the chocolate.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Aidan muttered.

  “Anytime,” Marc said with a grin.

  “Bye, Uncle Marc. See ya later.” Abby took off and eagerly grabbed Emma’s hand. “Let’s go.”

  They all watched her drag Emma along, until Emma told her the kitchen was a few floors up. Then she reversed her steps, pulling Emma toward the staircase. Her little legs pumped as she climbed up with Emma following behind.

  “She’s precious.” Casey extended her hand. “I’m Casey Woods. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “And you, as well,” Aidan replied.

  The rest of the team followed suit, shaking Aidan’s hand and introducing themselves. Hero went up to sniff Aidan out. He seemed especially intrigued by Aidan’s jeans pocket.

  “Sorry, Hero, I almost forgot.” He pulled a sizable dog biscuit out of his pocket. “This is for you.”

  Hero barked, snatched the bone and veered into the first office to enjoy his treat in private.

  “Did you just check out our website or hack into our files so you’d be up to speed on all our team members?” Ryan asked.

  A corner of Aidan’s mouth lifted. “Let’s just say there won’t be any surprises. Now you and I should get to work.”

  “Great. Let’s go down to my lair. I’m all set up for you.”

  * * *

  By the time Ryan and Aidan were reviewing what Ryan had tackled thus far, Abby had polished off a chunk of three separate chocolate cupcakes—mostly the top parts that had the icing. Her face and h
ands were covered with chocolate, and before Emma could wash them, Abby had bolted out of the kitchen and raced to the main conference room.

  “Wow. This is big!” she exclaimed. She went over to the table that held all the tech equipment and began fiddling with the buttons, leaving chocolate marks everywhere. “Where’s the TV?” she asked as Emma rushed in behind her. “Does this one change the channels?”

  “Warning, an unauthorized intruder!” Yoda’s voice filled the room. “No access granted!”

  “Who’s that?” Rather than being terrified, Abby looked intrigued. Her blue eyes swept the office as she tried to place where the sound was coming from. “Is that the Wizard of Oz?”

  Emma started to laugh. “Kind of, yes.” She raised her head. “It’s okay, Yoda. Abby is with me.”

  “It is most definitely not okay, Emma,” Yoda responded. “You have no authorization to allow visitors. You yourself are still within your probationary period for another fifty-five days.”

  “Then check with Casey,” Emma snapped, trying to deal with Yoda and keep an eye on Abby at the same time. One was a friggin’ dictator, the other was the Roadrunner.

  “I most definitely shall, immediately. And tell that small person to stop touching the equipment.”

  “I’ll try, Yoda.” Emma couldn’t wait for him to summon Casey. She was at her wit’s end.

  Meanwhile, Abby had already gotten bored with the conversation. She was now swiveling around and around in Casey’s chair, leaving more chocolate stains on the leather and on the polished wood table.

  “Whee! This is fun! A big chair like Daddy’s!” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, leaving splotches of chocolate in both places.

  “What are these?” Abby reached for the pile of papers stacked neatly in front of her. “Can I color?” She turned the first page over, picked up a pen and began scribbling. “Do you have crayons? This color is ugly.”

  “Please, Abby, don’t do that,” she repeated.