The Line Between Here and Now

by Andrea Kane

  “No.” This time, Ryan kept his interest in check. “I was just curious. I know how invested you are in this case.”

  “If you’re worried that I’ll let my baggage cloud my judgment, don’t. It never does.” Another pause, this one speculative. “Just let me know when Morano has his trailer set up. We’ll reverse our tracks and head right back to the Hamptons to install Gecko in the trailer. A baby could break into one of those. We’ll have Gecko in place in twenty minutes.”

  * * *

  Casey spent a good hour in her private office upstairs, watching Mercer’s press conference online. Or, to be more specific, watching Mercer at his press conference.

  He was a charismatic speaker, yet he also came across as very warm and sincere-a real family man with solid family values. Some of it was genuine, some was exaggerated. Just like every other politician.

  He was definitely uneasy about the whole blood donor situation. Every time the press said something about his altruistic gesture, his lips thinned into a tight smile, and Casey could almost see his internal wince. He wanted the baby to survive. But he didn’t want the details of his genetic relationship to Justin to come out. Mercer was also intimidated by his “father.” Lyle Fenton was standing on his left. And Mercer was angled away from him, his face slanted to the right, his body positioned as if to shield himself from Fenton.

  The whole situation would be fascinating if it weren’t so maddening. There was nothing in this clip that could help Amanda. For her purposes, it didn’t matter why the congressman had taken the steps he’d taken, only that he had taken them. Now it was back to the waiting game. The complete testing results didn’t come back for almost two weeks. While FI knew that Amanda and Mercer were loosely related, Amanda didn’t. And the biological connection was weak, at best. So the odds weren’t good.

  Finding Paul Everett was still the best, maybe the only option. Flying under the radar wasn’t working, especially since FI’s involvement was public knowledge at this point. Not to mention the fact that they’d put some dangerous people on high alert.

  Forget subtlety. It was time to be more aggressive.

  “Maybe you should let it go.”

  Casey started. She hadn’t heard Hutch come in.

  “Let what go?” she asked. “Mercer? I don’t think so. If anything, I’m starting to think we should confront him.”

  “About what-being Fenton’s son?”

  “About the fact that we know he’s Fenton’s son. Also, about the fact that we know he’s in Fenton’s pocket. It might make him more amenable to telling us anything else he knows about-like Fenton’s involvement with Paul Everett’s supposed death.”

  “I doubt he knows anything.” Hutch shrugged. “I realize you’re getting desperate. But I’d leave that avenue alone.”

  Casey blinked. “Leave alone a dirty politician? I can’t believe this is you. Are you, Supervisory Special Agent Kyle Hutchinson, the most honorable person on earth, actually suggesting I turn my back on corruption?”

  Hutch’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No, although I thank you for the slightly exaggerated compliment. I’m suggesting you find a donor match for little Justin and stop being sidetracked. That’s not just my professional opinion, it’s my personal one. Getting Amanda’s son healthy is what you were hired for.”

  Something wasn’t sitting right with Casey.

  “Did you reach your contacts?” she asked.

  “Most of them, yes.”

  “Good. Because you’ve been in there for hours. What did they tell you? Is Paul Everett in the federal system?”

  “They didn’t tell me anything. No one could give me information about Paul Everett or about any investigation involving him in any capacity.”

  Casey rose slowly, her eyes narrowing on Hutch’s face. His choice of wording didn’t escape her. “That’s pretty vague.”

  “Actually, it’s very definitive.” Hutch’s expression was totally nondescript. “I tried my best to help you out. But there’s nothing I can say. It sucks, Casey. But it’s a dead end.”

  “A dead end,” Casey repeated. “Nothing you can say. Nothing anyone could tell you. Nothing you could get. That’s an awful lot of nothings.”

  “I realize that. I’m sorry. I was hoping to help your investigation.”

  “But you didn’t. Then again, you already know that. You told me nothing.” Her emphasis was pointed.

  “That’s true.” Hutch didn’t avert his gaze. “So maybe it’s time to widen your search for a donor.”

  “Or maybe it’s time for you to tell me the truth.”

  “I just did.”

  “You made sure to word things perfectly. But the truth? That’s crap.” Casey walked right up to him. “What’s going on?”

  His jaw tightened. “Leave it alone, Casey.”

  She was quiet for a long moment, just scrutinizing his face.

  “Wow,” she said at last. “This is even bigger than I thought. They shut you down, didn’t they? Whatever’s going on, they don’t want Forensic Instincts involved. This must be some major career-building case. No wonder we’ve got the bad guys so nervous. There’s a lot more at stake for them than our search for Paul Everett. He’s part of a much bigger picture.”

  Hutch didn’t answer. Then again, he didn’t have to.

  “You’re coming through loud and clear,” Casey told him. “I guess that means that figuring out what the bigger picture is will be FI’s job.”

  “No.” Hutch’s tone was hard. “FI’s job will be to find some other way to save Justin Gleason. Paul Everett isn’t an option.”

  “That’s the FBI’s opinion. Not mine.”

  “You’re playing with fire, Casey. That’s as much as I can say. I don’t have too many details-but I have enough to know you’re in danger. So drop it.”

  “There’s no chance in hell. Do you have any idea how good the odds are that Paul Everett will turn out to be the best match for Justin? Do you know how fervently Amanda’s been counting on that national donor list and coming up empty? Do you know that her son-of-a-bitch uncle, who’s her closest living relative, isn’t a match? Do you realize that Mercer and his kids are long, long shots?” Anger sparked in Casey’s eyes. “Do you understand that you’re practically telling me to let a baby die to protect your precious Bureau?”

  “That’s not what I’m telling you.” Now Hutch was getting angry. “But if more powerful forces than you haven’t found Paul Everett, FI isn’t going to, either. Assuming you’re right-and I’m not saying you are-and he is part of some massive investigation, you’re wasting your time hunting him down. That’s time you could be spending finding a viable donor for Justin.”

  “Do you know where he is?” Casey demanded.

  “I haven’t a clue.” Hutch’s jaw was working. “And, if I did, I couldn’t tell you.”

  “Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?”

  “Both.”

  “Dammit, Hutch.” Casey was furious. “I’m trying to save a baby’s life. And you’re clinging to some stupid bureaucratic rules?”

  “Those bureaucratic rules are what define our criminal justice system. Without them-” Hutch broke off with a frustrated sound. “Let’s not go down this path for the hundredth time. We don’t agree. That’s why you started Forensic Instincts and why I’m with the Bureau.”

  Casey struggled for control-and for objectivity. She knew Hutch was being Hutch, doing what he believed in. But she just couldn’t wrap her mind around it, not in this case.

  “We’re talking about a newborn baby,” she said, keeping her tone intentionally calm. “He won’t survive much longer without a donor transplant. He might not survive anyway. Hutch, I won’t ask you to compromise your principles. Just tell me what you can, what you feel comfortable saying. I’ll try to fill in the blanks. Please. I’m begging you. I won’t tell anyone, not even the team, where I got the information.”

  “You know that’s not the issue, Casey.” Hutch’s tone was equally
restrained. “Anything I wouldn’t feel comfortable with your sharing with the team, I wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing with you. This isn’t personal. It’s professional.” A pause, as Hutch grappled with his choice of words. “I wasn’t lying. I have no idea where Paul Everett is. Nor do I have the faintest idea how to find him. I’m not sure who, if anyone, does. Classified information is shared on a need-to-know basis.”

  “I hear you.” Casey digested what Hutch was and wasn’t saying. Paul Everett was in the federal system and he was a part of some investigation. A significant investigation, if it was classified. And that meant that even Hutch had limited information.

  “Is Paul alive?” Casey asked.

  “I don’t know. I can only speculate.”

  “Okay, then what would you speculate?”

  “I’d speculate that he’s probably alive.”

  “Agreed. Or the Bureau wouldn’t be so eager to keep a lid on his part in their investigation.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Hutch shrugged. “It could be that any update on his status is classified. I’m just guessing, based on instinct. I have no facts to support them.”

  Casey nodded. “When you first walked in here, you had a strong, negative reaction to my watching Mercer’s press conference. That tells me that this investigation involves him, too.”

  “I can’t comment on that.”

  “And Lyle Fenton?”

  Hutch sliced the air with his hand. “That’s it, Case. Twenty questions is over. I helped you as much as I can-and then some. Any more and I’ll be violating my beliefs and my professional ethics.”

  Casey listened to Hutch’s every word, watched his every tell. He was trained and he was good. Downright unreadable, under most circumstances. But in this case, he was trying to convey information without conveying it. So he was definitely more open to interpretation.

  Whatever broad investigation the FBI was conducting, Congressman Mercer and Lyle Fenton were key players in it.

  “Casey,” Hutch added in a grim tone, “I don’t think I did you any favors by pushing this with the Bureau. Now that they’ve been clued in to the fact that you’re on a major manhunt for Paul Everett, they’re going to do everything they can to block you.”

  “Did they come right out and tell you that?”

  “No, or I couldn’t be repeating it. But you and I are both smart enough to figure it out. It’s one thing for them to see an amateur YouTube video that was shot by your client. It’s another thing to have one of their own reaching out to a handful of insiders, pressing for answers. My relationship with you is hardly a secret among the agents I know. This whole situation isn’t good.”

  “It was a risk we had to take,” Casey replied. “And don’t tell me to back down, because I won’t. The FBI can join the crowd who’s watching us. At least we know they won’t shoot to kill.”

  “Very funny.” Hutch scowled. “I’m not even going to try to talk you out of it, because I’d be wasting my breath. But I can’t be a part of it, either-except to worry about you.”

  “Fair enough.” Casey was as blunt as he was. “By the same token, I can’t pass along another shred of information to you. I’ve already done enough damage to my client by telling you as much as I did. But from here on in, you’re out of the loop.”

  “Fine.” Hutch was still scowling. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Aren’t you due back in Quantico in a day or two?”

  “Trying to get rid of me?”

  Casey attempted a smile, but didn’t manage to pull it off. “Nope. You’re too good in bed.”

  “I’m not laughing, Casey.” Hutch’s jaw tightened another notch. “I don’t know who all the key players are here. But you could be walking into a minefield.”

  “Then let’s hope I tread carefully. Because I’m finding Paul Everett.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  John Morano was in the process of setting up his replacement computer system, trying to make it fit within the confines of the narrow trailer he’d hastily bought as a substitute office, when Lyle Fenton walked in.

  “Good. You’re not missing a beat,” Fenton pronounced, marching inside. “I like that in the people I do business with.” As he spoke, Fenton glanced out the side window of the trailer, nodding in approval as he scanned the close proximity of the bay. “Smart idea to stay put. From experience, I know it’s important to be on-site. It keeps the construction crew on their toes.”

  “I didn’t stay put,” Morano said, angling his computer monitor. “I moved to the other side of the marina. The stench of burned wood and gasoline were more than I could take. Plus, that area is a crime scene.”

  “I didn’t mean that literally.” Fenton had that hard edge to his voice-and it was unsettling enough for Morano to stop what he was doing and straighten up to regard Fenton.

  “Sorry if I’m grouchy,” he apologized. “It wasn’t exactly the best night of my life.”

  “I assumed not.”

  “So what brings you by?” Morano attempted a weak smile. “Did you bring me a housewarming present?”

  Fenton didn’t smile back. “The news reports said that the police are ruling this arson.”

  “It was pretty much a no-brainer,” Morano replied. “So is trying to figure out who did it.”

  No change in expression. “The mob.”

  A shaky nod. “I shut them down, told them I wasn’t paying up anymore. So they gave me an unmistakable warning. Hey, at least they didn’t kill me-yet.”

  “You’re being very flippant, under the circumstances.”

  “Flippant?” Morano’s voice was hollow. “I’m a nervous wreck. Yeah, I anticipated they’d do something. Their flunky made sure to tell me that during our last visit. I just didn’t know what they had in mind. Now I do. The only good thing is that the cops, who wouldn’t do a fucking thing until now, are sending out extra patrol cars to police the area and to keep an eye on my apartment. Those are the only two places I plan on being. No detours for me-not for a long time.”

  “It took balls to provoke them the way you did,” Fenton stated. “You’re either very brave or very stupid. Which is it?”

  “Neither. I was being squeezed to the point where I couldn’t breathe.” Morano looked like a trapped bird. “Believe me, I’m not suicidal. But I’m not a multimillionaire, either. I don’t have the kind of money they’re demanding. Do I keep wondering if this is what happened to Paul Everett, and that, when he put on the brakes, he wound up dead? Damned straight I do.”

  “I would, too.” Fenton was never one to sugarcoat things. “That’s why I hired round-the-clock security for you.”

  “What?”

  “You asked why I came by. I came by to protect my investment. I don’t know what the hell happened to Paul Everett, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. You and I just signed a contract-a very lucrative one for me. I don’t plan on seeing you get killed. The cops can’t watch you 24/7-there aren’t enough tax dollars for that. So I’m taking care of it. You’ll have eyes on you at all times until this hotel is finished and up and running.”

  “That’s going to be two years.”

  “Less,” Fenton corrected. “Seventeen months. I want it open at the start of the season after next. You can have a grand opening Memorial Day weekend. As for how long you’ll need a bodyguard, don’t worry. I can afford it.” He glanced around the trailer. “Is everything important safe?”

  A nod. “I keep all my electronic documents backed up. And, given how rickety that old shack was, I took home my important files every night. With the bunch of teenagers who hang around the bay smoking up until the wee hours of the morning, I couldn’t risk losing anything during a break-in. So we won’t have any delays.”

  “Good.” Fenton nodded. “Then I suggest you kick your ass into high gear. The guard that my security company sent over is in his car across the street. The permits are taken care of. The mob will be happier once the union members are working. So it’s time
to break ground.”

  “I agree. And thanks.” Morano looked more than a little relieved at the knowledge that he was being safeguarded, even if it was just because Fenton was safeguarding an important business asset. “I’ll set things in motion within the week.”

  “Do that.” There was no give in Fenton’s tone.

  * * *

  Casey called a team meeting just as soon as Patrick could make the necessary arrangements for a relief shift at Sloane Kettering. Amanda was okay with him going, once she met Roger and saw how professional he was. Besides, she was in with Justin every minute, and not as focused on the bodyguard situation.

  The entire team gathered around the conference room table. The atmosphere was tense, which announced to everyone that Casey had something important on her mind.

  “Good afternoon, everyone,” Yoda greeted them. “Will you be needing any assistance?”

  “Yes, Yoda,” Casey said, shutting the conference room door and walking over to her place at the head of the sweeping oval table. “But first we need some discussion time. Then we’ll be calling on you.”

  “Very well, Casey. I’ll be on standby.” Yoda fell silent.

  Casey sat down, aware that all eyes were on her. Even Hero, who was stretched out at her feet, was gazing expectantly up at her, keenly aware that something was going on.

  “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.”