Andrea Kane - The Line Between Here and Now

“And the second stop-you’re going to see Fenton.”

“Yup. And third stop, Mercer. It’s time to blow the lid off this case.”

Thirty minutes after Marc left the marina, the captain of Big Money was crossing under the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge when the incoming-message indicator on his communications display terminal flashed again. Pressing the icon on the touch screen, he read:

Fenton (mobile).

The captain was puzzled about why Fenton would text him again, this time from his cell phone. While aboard Lady Luck, he’d made it clear he was signing off, the implication being Don’t bother me.

Quickly, the captain opened the text message. He panicked when he saw Fenton’s request:

Status?

He didn’t wait. “Goddfrey,” he shouted to his first mate. “Call Fenton on his cell phone. It’s an emergency.”

Fenton was waiting for Marc when the van arrived at the iron gates of his estate.

He eased aside his living-room drapes to watch the approaching headlights illuminate his lawn. This time he was worried. Very worried. He had no idea how much damaging information Marc Devereaux had come away with, but what Fenton had been briefed on was bad enough. This wasn’t going to be a harmless fishing expedition like last time. It was going to be an ugly confrontation.

He would have called his lawyer and asked him to be present. But that would make him look as guilty as he really was.

He sucked in his breath and readied himself for what was to come.

Outside, the guard posted at the property entrance complied with Fenton’s earlier instructions. He opened the iron gates and let the FI van pass through.

“Do you want me to come in with you two?” Ryan asked Marc, as he maneuvered down the labyrinth driveway.

“Nope.” Marc shook his head. “I want you to continue your research and share some trail mix with Hero. He must be starved after his long night. As for Fenton, this visit will be most effective if I just walk in and surprise him with the team psychic. That’ll freak him out.”

“It freaks everyone out, right, Claire-voyant?” Ryan teased.

Claire’s brows rose. It was the first normal comment Ryan had made to her since…well, since then. “Not everyone,” she replied. “Mostly you.”

Ryan met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “ Freaked out is not the term I’d use. More like intrigued and frustrated. ”

Claire swallowed. “That’s an improvement over dismissive. ”

“Yeah, well, people change. Although I still don’t buy the communing with inanimate objects.”

“Then how do you explain Gecko?”

“He’s very animate. He just speaks a different language than we do.”

“So do victims’ personal items.”

“Save it, you two,” Marc interrupted. “Let’s get the truth out of Fenton. And Mercer. Then you can go back to your game of one-upmanship.”

“Good idea,” Claire said. She averted her gaze and readied herself as the van approached the manor. “This should be interesting.”

“Don’t flip out if I go after the guy-I mean really go after him,” Marc cautioned her.

“You mean beat him up?” She shrugged. “If it will help us save Justin, feel free. I’m a lot tougher than the bunch of you think.”

Ryan coughed, but he said nothing. He just pulled the van around to the front of the house. “Good luck,” he told them. “Shoot some video if you kick the guy’s ass.”

“Sure,” Marc replied good-naturedly. “Claire, you have your cell, right?”

The butler ushered Claire and Marc directly to the study where Fenton sat at his desk. He did a double take when he saw Claire.

“We met at the hospital,” he remembered aloud, scrutinizing her.

“We certainly did. Claire Hedgleigh,” Claire reminded him.

“Right.” Try though he did to keep up appearances, Fenton was definitely thrown. He knew who and what Claire was.

Shuffling some papers around on his desk, he snapped off commands to his butler. “Go. And shut the door behind you. I don’t want to be disturbed-not for any reason.”

“Yes, sir.” The thin, uneasy-looking man disappeared.

“Why did you bring Ms. Hedgleigh with you?” Fenton demanded right away. “She wasn’t there when you broke in and trespassed on my boat with your trained bloodhound.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Marc’s expression was nondescript. He glanced around the room. “I hope you’re not stupid enough to have this room bugged. Your admissions, or lack thereof, are a lot more incriminating than mine.”

“The room’s not bugged. I’m an average man, Devereaux, not a spy.”

“An average man?” This time, Marc raised a brow. “I wouldn’t use that term to describe you. As for Claire, she’s my colleague, and a trusted judge of character. I asked her to be here.”

“She’s a psychic.”

“Yes, I am,” Claire confirmed. “I pick up on all kinds of energy, good and bad.”

“Bad energy isn’t admissible in court,” Fenton mocked her.

“I wasn’t planning on testifying. Why? Should I be?”

Marc bit back a smile. He’d never seen this side of Claire. She was damned good.

“Stop dancing around the issue.” Fenton planted his palms flat on his desk. “I know what happened tonight. My guard at the marina regained consciousness. Nice of you to pull the gag out of his mouth so he didn’t choke, and loosen the ropes so he could free himself. The minute he did, he took off after you. Of course, you were already gone. But he called me on the spot. And he described you and your dog to a tee.”

“Yet you didn’t call the police.” Marc looked thoughtful. “Interesting. If my property had been broken into, I’d be on the phone with the cops. Then again, I’m not a criminal scumbag like you.”

Without so much as a pause, Marc tapped Claire’s shoulder and pointed to the marble-framed photograph on the wall. “That’s the ship I was telling you about,” he said conversationally. “ Big Money. Impressive, isn’t it? It travels to Fenton’s dock in Bayonne on a regular basis, retrieving containers as it goes. And it lives up to its name. It rakes in huge money-doesn’t it, Fenton?”

Fenton wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. “My entire company is successful.”

“I’m sure it is. Transporting illegal cargo really rakes in the cash.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, but I do. It’s a sweet deal. Your fleet is out there dredging anyway. Why not help out the mob and reap some extra profits at the same time?” Marc took a few menacing steps forward, his sarcastic tone turning cold as steel. “Did you plan on doing the same thing with your ferry service to the new hotel? Is that the deal you made with the mob? To take along their stash of guns or drugs while you transported tourists to the luxury resort? Is that why it took you so long to sign those contracts with Morano-because you were working out the specifics with the mob while they blackmailed him in the meantime?”

Fenton had gone sheet-white.

“It backfired, didn’t it? When Morano couldn’t afford his blackmailers anymore, they burned down his office. People could have been killed. I bet you didn’t plan on adding murder to your list of crimes, now, did you?”

“I’m not listening to another word,” Fenton barked. “You don’t have a shred of proof to back up any of these outrageous charges.”

“Fortunately, I don’t need any.” Marc’s tone was now low, threatening. “My job is not to bring you to justice, much as I’d love to. I work for Forensic Instincts, not law enforcement. My job is to find Paul Everett. As it turns out, he was on your private yacht, Lady Luck, right before he disappeared. And that I do have proof of. Solid, admissible proof.” Marc stretched the truth-and it worked.