Andrea Kane - The Line Between Here and Now

“Weird like he was using a voice scrambler? Like he wanted to disguise his identity?”

“I guess. It was as if he were in an echo chamber. But he knew me, Casey. He said my name. He told me what time I’d come outside the hospital for some air. He told me what I was wearing. And he told me to stop looking for Paul-to tell you to stop looking for Paul.”

“Did he threaten you?”

“Not in so many words. But he made it clear that he would be watching us to make sure. He didn’t say ‘or else.’ But his tone of voice did. And, Casey…” Amanda’s voice broke. “Right before he hung up, he said that he certainly hopes my son, Justin, gets well. Then he broke the connection. What does that mean? Does he plan on doing something to my baby?”

“It means he was going for your emotional Achilles’ heel.” Casey’s mind was racing. “The more personal he makes this, the more terrified you’ll be, and the more apt to listen to his demands. He’s trying to scare you, Amanda, but he’s the one who’s scared. We’re getting close. If anything, that’s good news, not bad.” She paused. “How long ago did he call?”

“Two minutes ago. I called you the instant he hung up. And there was no caller ID. It said Unavailable. ”

“Check your phone again-but not for a caller ID. Do you have any missed calls? Messages?”

“I checked as soon as I got to the general waiting area where I was allowed to turn on my cell phone.” Amanda was holding herself together by a hair. “There were no missed calls. A few messages from friends and a couple of pushy ones from the press. No hang-ups. Why?”

“Did this man call you right then-as soon as you turned on your phone?”

“As I was checking my last message.”

“Then I’m guessing that either he or someone who’s working with him is inside the hospital. It’s the only way he’d know exactly when you were reachable.”

“Oh, my God.” Amanda lost it again. “That means he’s close to Justin.”

“Sloane Kettering is a big hospital.” Casey battled Amanda’s understandable panic. “He could be in any one of dozens of places and still keep you in his sight.” Casey dragged a hand through her tangled mane of hair. “But we won’t take any chances. I’ll call Patrick and have him stand guard outside the PICU.”

“Why Patrick? Why not Marc?”

“Because Patrick is the right person for this job. Before he joined Forensic Instincts, he was a security consultant for law enforcement and private companies-big ones. He’s consulted for the NYPD, the FBI and a long list of other entities. And, before that, he was an FBI agent for over thirty years. No one will get by him.”

“I’m sorry…” Amanda inhaled sharply. “It’s just that…”

“I know you trust Marc. But trust all of us. Trust me. When I say Patrick’s the one you want, he is.”

“You’re right. And I do trust you. I’m just a wreck.” Another attempt at a calming breath. “When can Patrick get here?”

“I’ll call him right now.” Casey remembered Claire saying that Patrick had gone home to spend time with his wife. And home for Patrick was in Hoboken, New Jersey, a short ride through the Holland Tunnel and into Manhattan. “He’ll be there within the hour. And I’m going to see what Ryan can get off your cell records. My guess is nothing, if this guy is a pro. But it can’t hurt to try. And, Amanda, remember, no one’s interested in hurting you or Justin. They just want to protect whatever secret it is they have-and that secret involves Paul. So keep a low profile. No more videos. No public statements. Let us take the lead and the risk.”

“I will.”

Casey disconnected the call and pressed Patrick’s speed dial number. By the time they hung up, he was halfway out the door, on his way to Sloane Kettering.

Casey flopped back against the pillows with a heavy sigh.

“You okay?” Hutch asked, rolling onto his side and propping himself on one elbow.

“Frustrated.”

“Then I didn’t do as good a job as I thought.”

Casey smiled. “Yes, you did. That’s the only way I’m not frustrated. But this damned case…”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hutch asked, playing with a strand of Casey’s red hair. He was as respectful as she about not overstepping his bounds with her cases-at least until he sensed she was in danger. Then all bets were off. Casey often muttered that he was a caveman, although they both knew that wasn’t true. Hutch was the furthest thing from sexist. His longtime BAU partner, Grace, was female, and they worked together seamlessly and respectfully. But Grace was a trained law enforcement agent. Casey wasn’t. And Hutch had just seen way too much, first as a D.C. cop, then as a BU agent, to be okay with Casey throwing herself smack in the middle of big-time danger.

Unfortunately, that’s what she always seemed to do.

“You know a lot of it already, thanks to YouTube,” Casey said now, still staring at the ceiling with a troubled expression on her face. “Amanda Gleason’s baby has a life-threatening autoimmune disease. He needs a stem cell transplant. No donor match has been found. His best chance of survival is his father. FI’s job is to find that father-Paul Everett.”

Hutch arched a brow. “Now why don’t I think it’s that simple?”

“Because you just heard me on the phone. And because your instincts are almost as good as mine.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” Hutch said drily. “How much can you tell me without violating client confidentiality?”

“I can tell you that Paul Everett is supposedly dead, the victim of a no-body homicide. That’s the official police report. I can tell you the cops found his abandoned car, complete with a fair amount of his blood on the driver’s seat, just east of the Hamptons on Long Island. And I can tell you that no one on my team believes that he’s dead.”

Hutch didn’t need time to digest that speech. “That last part is the only thing we need to discuss-or not discuss. The rest is all fact, not investigative work.”

Casey nodded, chewing her lip thoughtfully. Then, she angled her head toward Hutch. “I need to speak to my client. But, hypothetically, if I asked you to check someone out and see if they were on the FBI’s radar for some criminal act, or because of some criminal act, could you?”

“You’re not sure if this someone is an offender or a victim-hypothetically.”

“Right.”

“I could check our system, sure. If there’s a federal crime involved, the BU would be as eager to solve it as you are.”

“Then let me get Amanda’s permission. I’m sure she’ll jump at the offer. This isn’t the kind of case she wants to keep under wraps. The sooner we find Paul, the better chance that Justin, her baby, will make it-assuming Paul’s a healthy donor match. But from what I understand, the odds are good.”

“I take it Amanda’s not a match?”

“She’s not eligible to be tested for health reasons,” Casey replied carefully.

“Got it.” Hutch studied Casey’s face, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Go ahead and call your client. You won’t get any sleep until you do. And, for what I have in mind, you need your sleep to recoup your strength.”

Ryan turned off the headlights as he slowed the van to a crawl, then pulled onto a deserted stretch of the Shinnecock Bay shoreline, just around the bend from the marina.

Marc was peering through his night-vision binoculars. “No one’s around,” he announced.

“What a surprise.” Ryan grinned. “It’s after 1:00 a.m. on a December night. Who wouldn’t be basking on the beach?”

“I wasn’t looking for sunbathers, smart-ass. I was looking for pot-smoking kids and anyone else who might want a dark, deserted spot to do their thing.”