Chapter 12
Offices of Forensic Instincts
Ryan’s Lair
Tribeca, Manhattan, New York
Claire didn’t even bother to knock. She just burst inside.
“Hey.” Surprised, Ryan looked up from his gym rat corner, where he sat, bare-chested, lifting weights with frustrated purpose. Seeing the expression on Claire’s face, he set down the weights, stood up, and grabbed a towel to wipe his face and neck. “You sensed something.”
“Yes.” Claire didn’t even sit down. “Where’s your mom’s cell phone? I need to hold it.”
Wordlessly, Ryan walked over and handed it to her.
Claire clasped it tightly, closing her eyes, and letting the energy flow through her. “Yes,” she whispered as images shot through her mind.
“Yes what?”
Claire’s eyes opened, and rather than looking dazed and faraway, there was utter certainty reflected in them.
“The person who sent that text—it was Caitlin.”
A moment of dead silence.
Then Ryan reacted.
“Caitlin?” His jaw dropped. “Are you sure?”
“Very. She’s alive. Running. And terrified that someone will hunt her down and go after Kennedy to find out what she knows.”
At that, Ryan went very still. “Kennedy knows something? What?”
“I’m not sure.” Claire set down the phone, her hand shaking with the aftermath of her vision.
“I’m sorry, Ryan. I’m not zeroing in on that part—not yet.
I just know that this is the reason I kept feeling as if someone without malice had sent the text to your mom.
It wasn’t the killer, or even someone who worked for the killer. It was Caitlin.”
“Damn.” Ryan dragged his hands through his hair. “I don’t believe this.”
“I got a clear image of her sending it,” Claire continued. “I saw a lot of greenery and open space around her. As if she’d texted from a public garden or a park.”
“The latter,” Ryan replied. “The text originated in Boston. In Franklin Park.”
Claire nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Yeah.” Ryan blew out a breath. “What also makes sense is that she feels compelled to reiterate that she wants my mom to do what she herself can’t—watch over Kennedy. Is Shane’s killer hovering nearby? Is that what Caitlin is implying?”
Claire’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I don’t know that either. All I’m sure of is that we have to keep Kennedy safe—and trace Caitlin. Did you and Yoda get any more specific information from the text? Because Boston is a big city.”
“Nope.” Ryan began pacing, his mind working through the problems they faced.
“Plus, even if I’d narrowed down our search a little, rushing up to Boston would wave a red flag in Hutch’s face.
He’d be all over us for an explanation. As things stand, we can just give the cell phone back to my mom, have her show the text message to the FBI, and keep the rest of our newfound knowledge under wraps. ”
He paused, pulling out his own cell phone.
“I’m Slacking the whole team. I don’t care what time it is.
We have way too much to discuss to wait til seven o’clock.
Besides, you and Casey have to get to my parents’ house by eight at the latest. Otherwise, you run the risk of Kennedy waking up before you’ve had the chance to talk to my mom alone.
Not to mention, you’ve got to get my mom’s cell phone back in her possession ASAP.
And you’ve got to interview my mom and Kennedy before the FBI does. ”
Claire nodded. “Maureen is expecting us to arrive early. That won’t be a surprise.
But I agree with you—we need to have a team meeting right away.
There’s too much information that’s not yet shared.
We need everyone on board. We also need Patrick to put extra security on Kennedy.
” She gestured at Ryan’s phone. “Go ahead. We’ll see how many of us are awake enough to respond. ”
Casey and Hutch’s Apartment
Battery Park City, Manhattan, New York
Tuesday, March 14, 2:05 a.m.
Casey was in the living room, curled up on the couch with a flashlight, reviewing Emma’s list so she could be ready to discuss the names with Maureen sometime tomorrow.
She had an afghan thrown over her and a novel at the ready—in the event that Hutch awakened and came out to check on her.
Working in the bedroom was out. The slightest flicker of light and Hutch would be up and grilling her about what she was working on in the middle of the night and why.
Nope. Times like these called for craftiness and utter seclusion.
Her cell phone vibrated.
She glanced down at it, seeing the arrival of the Slack message. Without pause, she opened and read it. Her brows drew together and her adrenaline started pumping. She knew Ryan’s tone. And whatever this was about, it was urgent.
She doubled Ryan’s efforts by also Slacking the team, adding her voice to his and initiating an immediate invitation for a Zoom meeting.
Come as you are, she typed. PJs welcome.
Offices of Forensic Instincts
Ryan’s Lair
Tribeca, Manhattan, New York
Tuesday, March 14, 2:13 a.m.
Ryan read Casey’s message and chuckled. “Our president is on board,” he told Claire. “She’s summoning the troops.” He headed to the chair in front of his computer, pulling over a second chair as he did. “C’mon,” he invited Claire, patting the seat. “Let’s jump on the call.”
She did so at once, and an instant later, Casey’s face came into view. “Let’s give the others a chance,” she said. She shot Ryan a worried look. “You okay?”
He nodded. “More or less. Most important, I’m back in the saddle.”
“So I see. You’re at the office in the middle of the night. Why?”
As Casey spoke, Marc and Patrick joined the session. Both of them looked tousled, tired, and with a five-o’clock shadow, but completely alert.
“What’s up?” Marc demanded.
Before Casey could reply, Emma joined the chat. “I’m here,” she said. “But I’m not wearing a shred of makeup. So don’t judge.”
“We’ll do our best,” Casey replied dryly.
“I’m not so brave.” Angela’s voice entered the conversation. She’d turned on her audio, but not her video. “You’ll have to visualize me. Just know I’m here.”
This time, Casey’s lips twitched. “Gotcha. No problem.”
As she spoke, John’s face appeared. “Present and accounted for,” he said.
“Great.” Ryan looked both pleased and relieved.
“The whole team is here. Thanks. I know an emergency Zoom meeting is the last thing you want to be having at this hour. But it can’t be helped.
Our whole timetable has been pushed up.” He paused to inhale.
“Claire and I have a lot to talk about. I’m sure all of you do, too. But Claire and I are going first.”
Waiting only long enough to receive Casey’s go-ahead nod, Ryan plunged in. He went for the most crucial information first: the text his mother had received, quickly followed by his cell phone data accumulation, and Claire’s epiphany that Caitlin had sent that text.
“Caitlin?” Emma managed. “That changes everything.”
“It does indeed,” Casey concurred. “Although we probably shouldn’t be as shocked as we are. We determined that Caitlin sent the initial text to Maureen, asking her to take care of Kennedy. Why wouldn’t she send this one, as well?”
Marc rubbed a palm over his jaw. “Because of the way it’s worded.
It’s meant to sound like a threat from the killer, probably to throw off the FBI and the killers if the text were to be intercepted.
Whereas, in fact, it’s a plea for help. Caitlin is a smart woman.
She’s frightened for herself, but she’s frantic for Kennedy.
This suggests that she has reason to feel that way.
It’s up to us to figure out how Kennedy fits into the mix. ”
“I’ll put extra security on her as soon as we wrap up this meeting,” Patrick said. “I don’t like the implications here.”
“Agreed.” Ryan’s lips were drawn into a grim line.
“Also, Casey, you and Claire have a meeting set up with my mom at eight this morning, before Kennedy wakes up. Once the poor kid is awake, you’ll interview her next.
Claire made the arrangements with my mom, so she’ll ease Kennedy’s way.
She’ll make sure Kennedy knows it’s just Claire and another friend from FI who’ll be chatting with her.
That’ll calm her down. We’ve got to get ahead of the FBI.
They’ll be setting up interviews with her and with my mom by later today. ”
“I agree,” Casey replied. “I assume you kept your mother’s text message private?”
“The FBI knows nothing about it,” Ryan said. “They’ll find out this morning—after Claire returns the phone to my mom. At which point, my mom will show it to the agents and let them take it from there.”
“The line she’s giving the FBI is that she was too overwrought about the funeral to check her messages until this morning,” Emma surmised aloud.
“Exactly.”
Claire spoke next. “Casey, speaking of jumping the gun, you and I have appointments to talk to all the McKays today. I’ll give you the times and places.
” She waited for Casey’s thumbs-up. “And Marc, thank you for all the items you brought me from Shane’s house.
I wouldn’t have sensed any of the things I did without them. ”
“Glad it helped. Oh, and by the way, I also canvassed Shane and Caitlin’s neighborhood, dodging federal agents as I did. I had a few interesting conversations. I shared them with the rest of the team earlier. Ryan, you and Claire go check out the cloud. I posted my notes there.”
“Anything significant?” Claire asked.
“Just appetite whetters—things to keep on the back burner in case we need to revisit them.”
Ryan leaned forward with interest. “Did any of the agents spot you?”