Chapter 24
FBI New York Field Office
Manhattan, New York
Hutch was cranky as hell, just as he had been since his altercation with Casey yesterday. He’d sequestered himself in his office, had worked straight through the night, and was up to his ass in investigative follow-up. Sometimes paperwork just plain sucked.
Still, he kept pausing, struck by a niggling feeling that something was off. He didn’t know what, but it was eating away at him. His every instinct told him that his presence was needed. Was it case-related? He didn’t think so.
He sat up in his chair, rubbed his eyes, and took a healthy swallow of his now-cold, shitty coffee.
He hadn’t heard from Casey since he’d left FI headquarters, having blasted her. He felt no guilt about what he’d said, because it was necessary and it was the truth. But he hadn’t liked the way she’d looked—so drained, so tired, and in more pain than usual.
He picked up his cell phone and pressed the key for her private line.
Ring. Ring. Voice mail.
Dammit. He wasn’t leaving a message. He was aware that his wife was furious at him, but not so furious that she’d be childish enough to avoid his call. So what the hell was going on? Was this why he was so off-center?
He called Marc, hoping to make some progress there.
“Hey, Hutch.” Marc sounded troubled.
“Is Casey in the office?” Hutch demanded without prelude.
“Nope. She texted me a while ago saying she had to leave. Hopefully, she went home. Frankly, she looked like shit.”
Hutch squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah. I know. And, so far, she’s not answering her phone. But I’m trying her again.”
He tried several times and was on the verge of panic when his cell phone rang. Seeing Casey’s private number unblocked, he blew out a breath of relief.
“You okay?” he demanded.
Casey’s voice was shaky and slightly slurred.
“Not really… I’m at the hospital… My surgeon met me in the ER.
The staff ran some tests and took some X-rays, which he read on the spot…
Turns out I have an infection and some abdominal inflammation from overexertion after the splenectomy…
They just gave me some pretty strong antibiotics and painkillers—I can’t remember what.
” She paused, obviously trying to gather strength and clear her head.
“If home treatment doesn’t work…or if the infection worsens…
I’ll have to be readmitted to the hospital.
And now…they won’t release me on my own.
Hutch…” She swallowed hard. “I’m scared. ”
Hutch swore under his breath. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart. We’ll fix this.” He was already in motion. “I’m on my way.”
Casey and Hutch’s Apartment
Battery Park City, Manhattan, New York
Saturday, March 18, 5:45 p.m.
Hutch carried Casey into their apartment and into the bedroom, where he placed her gently on the bed.
She’d been completely out of it on the drive home. Now she was shivering. Twice she shuddered and once she actually whimpered in pain.
That was not Casey.
“If I undress you, can you get into bed?” Hutch asked, a huge knot twisting his stomach.
She nodded, white-faced.
“Okay.” He gently slid her out of her clothes, leaving her in just her bra and her thong, murmuring soothing words as he did.
“The IV medication they gave you will last another six hours. Then we’ll start you on the oral doses of antibiotic and pain meds the surgeon prescribed.
” As he spoke, he eased her beneath the covers and grabbed a second blanket, which he laid over the first to help stop the shaking.
“Thank you,” she mumbled.
Swallowing hard, Hutch sat gingerly at the edge of the bed beside her.
“Prescriptions at…pharmacy,” Casey managed.
“I know,” Hutch reassured her. “They’re being delivered. I’m also hiring a full-time nurse. I want a professional with you at all times to make sure you follow your surgeon’s instructions.” Hutch heard his own voice quaver. “I also don’t want you left alone at any time.”
For once, she didn’t argue.
Just seeing her so depleted brought back memories Hutch tried daily to forget. They forced out his next outburst, even though he’d promised himself he’d stay calm.
“Goddammit, Casey. Do I have to tie you to the bed and burn all your devices?”
Casey gave him the barest hint of a smile. “That’s…extreme.”
“Is it? Do I need to remind you how close you came to dying? How close I came to losing you?” His voice cracked a little at the end, and he reached out, running his fingers through her hair and then cupping her face.
“I was never so frightened in my life. Do you know how much I love you? I don’t think so.
Because if you did, you wouldn’t break me this way. ”
Tears filled Casey’s eyes, and she visibly struggled for coherency. “I’m…sorry. I love you. It’s so hard. Giving in.” She waved her hand. “To weakness… Physical… Emotional.”
“You’re not weak. You’re the strongest person I know. But you’re human. And right now you need to get well. For me.”
“I will.”
Hutch kissed her, then rose. “Once I’ve hired the nurse, I’ll call your team—not in any professional capacity.
As your husband. You’re going to sleep the rest of the night, and hopefully, half of tomorrow.
After that, you’ll stay in bed doing nothing but resting.
When you’re feeling stronger—and by that, I mean not for a few days—you can set up a Zoom meeting with your team, since they’re idle anyway.
Right?” He wasn’t waiting for a response.
His words were pointed and his gaze challenged her.
“And Case, I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. ”
Feeling weak as a kitten, Casey nodded. Her eyelids were already drooping from the narcotics. “Ev’n though you’re a hard-ass, you make it hard t’stay mad at you,” she murmured.
An instant later, she was asleep.
Offices of the Zermatt Group
West Seventy-Fifth Street, Seventh Floor
Manhattan, New York
Sunday, March 19, 10:25 a.m.
Marc strode out of the elevator and down the hall to Aidan’s apartment. The cloned laptop was in a computer bag slung over his shoulder.
Aidan was waiting for him in the open doorway.
Wordlessly, he let Marc in and shut the door behind them, tipping his head toward the fortress in the rear of the apartment after double-locking his front door.
Marc glanced around the silent apartment as he walked. “Abby?” he asked.
“Out with Joyce, meeting up with friends at her favorite playground,” Aidan responded.
“They’ll be gone for a good portion of the day.
Obviously, I didn’t tell her that her uncle Marc was coming over.
She’d never have left your side and we wouldn’t get a thing done.
You can play with our little princess next time. ”
“I can’t wait,” Marc said with a hint of a smile. It was no secret that he adored Abby and that the feeling was mutual.
Aidan punched in the key code, and he and Marc stepped inside the Cage. Marc had never been in this room, and he looked around, visibly fascinated.
“Wow,” he said. “Pretty impressive.”
“We like to think so,” Aidan said, his lips quirking in a grin.
Terri rose from behind the desk and extended her hand. “Good to see you, Marc.”
“Likewise.” Marc shook Terri’s hand, then waited as she shifted her computer to the side, then offered him her chair and went to sit on his right, in one of the two other chairs that were grouped around the desk.
Aidan seated himself in the chair on Marc’s left, indicating that Marc was center stage and captaining this particular ship.
Settling in behind the desk, Marc unzipped the computer case, and then placed the laptop directly in front of him. “Programmed and ready,” he said.
“Is Caitlin expecting this meeting?” Aidan asked.
Marc nodded. “Ryan filled her in. She’s ready and eager to help. She knows only that we have two other professionals working with us and that I’ll be handling the interview.” He glanced from Aidan to Terri. “No mention of Zermatt.”
“Never expected otherwise,” Aidan replied. He bent his knee and crossed one long leg over the other. “Let’s get started.”
Marc opened the laptop, turned it on, and tapped the keys that Ryan had instructed him to press.
It took a minute or two, and then a woman appeared on the screen. She was attractive, alert yet anxious, and Marc could see the resemblance to Kennedy.
“Hi, Caitlin,” he began. “I’m Marc Devereaux, as I know Ryan told you. Let me begin by saying how terribly sorry I am for your loss.”
She drew in a slow breath. “Nice to meet you, Marc. And thank you. Ryan speaks very highly of you. He says you’re as good as they come and that you used to work for the FBI.”
“I did. First as a supervisory special agent in the Violent Crimes division. Then in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Now I’m part of Forensic Instincts.
And these”—he pointed to Aidan and Terri—“are two of my professional contacts. Aidan and Terri. They’re working alongside Forensic Instincts in this investigation. ”
They all acknowledged each other politely.
“So how does this work?” Caitlin asked with an attempt at humor. “Do you hypnotize me?”
Marc chuckled. “No, nothing like that. We just talk. I’ll lead you through what we already know about Shane’s killer, and see if together we can deepen that knowledge.” His smile faded. “I know how difficult this is for you, and I apologize in advance for adding to that pain.”
“Don’t.” Caitlin gave a firm shake of her head. “I want this bastard caught and punished. And I want to come home to my little girl. I’ll help in any way that I can.”
“Good.” Marc’s expression didn’t change. “Let’s begin with what we know.” He ran through what Ryan had told them. “Is that all accurate?” he concluded.
“Yes.”
“Okay, so you had a limited view of the killer, and he was dressed from head to toe in black. Are you certain he was male?”
Caitlin blinked. “Yes. His body type. His stance. His gait. The way he moved. I’m certain.”
“Good. Now let’s discuss what you said about him being light on his feet. How so?”
“The way he stepped toward Shane. The way he made his escape. He was like a cat burglar only with muscles.”
“So he was well-muscled?”
Caitlin narrowed her eyes in thought. “Actually, yes. Lean, but with muscles.”
“And the way he moved—would you say he was a young man?”
Her brows drew together as she continued to search her memory. “Not teenager young, but in his twenties or thirties.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “I guess people like Charles Scott don’t hire middle-aged hitmen. Certainly not paunchy ones.”
Marc gave her a faint smile. “Think hard about the crime scene you witnessed. Then take me through it.”
“Ryan told you that I hid under the stairwell.” It wasn’t a question. It was a reiteration of that part of Marc’s recap.
Marc nodded, realizing how agonizing it was for Caitlin to recall these memories. She needed the reassurance of repetition. So he gave it to her.
“He did. So you obviously had a decent enough view. Did you actually see Shane get shot?”
“Only the immediate aftermath and the killer’s escape,” Caitlin replied.
“I heard the shot. I hid. I looked up. The killer was lowering his left arm, but he was still holding the gun in his hand. I remember because…” She gasped in sudden recall.
“Because I saw a bit of his arm at the wrist, between the edge of his shirt and his glove. Only for a few seconds, before he pulled the sleeve down. Marc, he was white. I’d forgotten until now. ”
Marc digested all Caitlin had said. “Not only was he white, he was left-handed. Those are two huge recalls. Only one out of every ten white males is left-handed. You’ve just helped us narrow down the search significantly.”
She blew out a relieved breath. “Thank God. Now what?”
Marc glanced from Aidan to Terri, waiting to see if they had more questions they needed answered. He wasn’t surprised to see that Terri had leaned forward and was busily typing on her own computer.
Pausing, she said, “Caitlin, in many ways my skill set mirrors Ryan’s, and yours. From what Ryan conveyed to me, you developed a new security operations screening process—an untried approach to penetration testing.”
“I did. I’m sure Ryan also told you that I tested it out on Scott Security to see if the company systems were vulnerable. I wish I’d never done that. If I hadn’t, Shane would be alive today.”
Compassion flashed in Terri’s eyes. “I understand. So let’s get him the justice he deserves and end Charles Scott’s career and his freedom.”
A hard nod.
“You accidentally stumbled onto the dark side of Scott Security,” Terri continued. “I need to follow this through. Can you help me determine the best way to hack into the dark side of their database? I’m quite sure they’re deleting compromising information. I need to look for old backups.”
Caitlin looked thoughtful as her mind raced through the scenario. “I think so.” She went on to supply Terri with a complex explanation that seemed to make sense to her.
It made sense to Terri, as well.
“That’s just what I was looking for,” she said. “And I’ll follow through on it to extract what I need.”
“I hope it works,” Caitlin said.
“I’ll make it work.”
Caitlin looked from Terri to Aidan to Marc. “How else can I help you?”
“We’re good for now,” Aidan told her. “I’m sure you’ll be hearing from us as the need for more information arises.”
The mother in Caitlin kicked in again, and her hands gripped the table in front of her. “Wait. Do you have a sense of how long this will take?”
Again, Marc and Aidan exchanged glances. “Not yet,” Marc replied frankly. “We have a fair amount of territory to cover.”
“But we work fast,” Aidan said. “Trust us. You’ll soon be reunited with Kennedy, the threat to your lives will be over, and Shane’s killer will be dealt with—as will Charles Scott.”