Andrea Kane - The Line Between Here and Now

Minutes later, Richard walked into his boss’s office to deliver the verdict.

Hutch was showered and dressed when Casey came upstairs to her apartment and walked into the bedroom.

“Good morning.” She smiled, went over to him and kissed him hello.

“Sort of.” Hutch wrapped his arms around her. “I would have preferred a proper good morning to a cold bed and a belated kiss.”

“Sorry. Duty called.” Casey kissed him again, then stepped away. “It’s been a crazy morning. It’s about to get crazier. Patrick’s picking me up. I have to race off again. I wish I could share the details with you.” A sigh. “Maybe when it’s over and we’ve saved little Justin.”

“You’ll save him, Casey. I have faith in you.” That was something Hutch could say with complete candor.

“Thank you. I hope you’re right. And, for the record, I hope we can do it without jeopardizing an FBI investigation.”

Before Hutch could reply, his cell phone rang.

He picked it up off the nightstand and answered it. “Hutchinson.”

“Hello, Hutch,” was the reply. “It’s Patricia Carey. I know you’re in New York, taking a few days off. Are you free to talk?”

Hutch couldn’t mask his surprise. He’d known Executive Assistant Director Carey for a dozen years, and they’d even worked together on several violent crimes investigations earlier in her career. They’d always shared a mutual respect, and even an occasional beer. But now that she was an Executive Assistant Director, they didn’t exactly travel in the same circles. And they definitely didn’t exchange social calls.

“Uh, yes.” He glanced up at Casey, about to request some privacy. “Just give me a minute.”

“If that minute involves asking Casey Woods to leave the room, don’t. I want her there. Or am I being too presumptuous?”

Hutch sat down on the edge of the bed with a stunned expression on his face. “You’re not being presumptuous. I just don’t understand why you’d…”

“Why I’d know you were involved with Ms. Woods? Or why I’d want her participation in this telephone conversation?” A hint of humor. “The former is common knowledge. As for the latter-please ask her to stay.”

“All right.” Hutch held up a detaining palm.

Casey halted in her tracks, a puzzled expression on her face.

“One last thing before we have Ms. Woods join in,” Patricia said. “You and I have worked together in the past. I’ve since followed your career. Your reputation is stellar. Plus, I trust you. So here’s my question-I’m aware of the fact that Forensic Instincts is trying to locate Paul Everett-and uncovering a wealth of information in the process. Please put your personal feelings about Ms. Woods aside. Are she and her team trustworthy?”

Trustworthy meant different things to different people.

“In what regard?” Hutch asked, trying to discern whether Patricia meant honorable or lawful.

Patricia read his mind and chuckled. “I don’t mean, do they follow the rules. I’m more than cognizant of the fact that they both bend and break those. What I mean is, if I were to strike a deal with them-one that would benefit their client-would they honor it?”

“Absolutely.” That one was a no-brainer. “I can vouch for their integrity, beyond the shadow of a doubt.”

“I assumed you’d say that. And I’m relieved. Now, would you please put us on speaker?”

Still totally at sea, Hutch did as she asked, beckoning Casey over as he did. “You’re on speaker, ma’am,” he said. “Casey, you’re talking to Executive Assistant Director Patricia Carey.”

Casey’s brows arched. Patricia Carey was the FBI’s highest ranking female, reporting to the Director himself.

“It’s a pleasure, Ms. Carey,” she said.

“The feeling is mutual,” Patricia replied. “Forensic Instincts has earned itself quite a reputation in a few short years-along with a few bent noses here at the FBI. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Casey paused, dying of curiosity as to the reason for the call.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” Patricia said. “You want to find Paul Everett. I want to successfully complete an investigation that might require a little creative energy-all within legal bounds, of course. Please understand that the FBI is unyielding about the interpretation of legal. Am I making myself clear?”

“Perfectly.”

“Good. Bearing that in mind, I believe that you and I are in a position to help each other. Are you interested?”

Casey inhaled sharply. “Are you telling me you know where Paul Everett is and you’re willing to turn him over to us?”

“I might be. If you comply with certain stipulations in order to protect him and our investigation. And if, in return, you supply me with what we need to bring this case to a successful close.”

Her wheels turning, Casey considered the confidentiality agreement that FI had with Amanda, and weighed it against the results being promised to her. She knew very well what Amanda would want her to do.

“I’ll give you everything I have,” Casey assured Patricia.

“Excellent. Then we have a deal.”

Casey glanced at Hutch. He knew that look. She was about to test the waters. “Is Paul Everett on a plane en route to JFK?” she asked.

Another brief chuckle. “I’m impressed. I had no idea you’d come so far. The answer is, yes, Paul is due back in New York at 4:00 p.m. on Flight 117 from Kuwait City. Now, let me lay out my stipulations. The first one is that I want SSA Hutchinson to be part of the operation I’m about to initiate. You and I both trust him, so it’s a win-win situation. Agreed?”

Casey shot Hutch a quick smile. “Agreed.”

“Good. Now here’s the rest-after which, I’ll need every shred of information you have on Lyle Fenton.”

“And John Morano?” Casey asked.

“No. John is one of ours.”

A long pause.

Abruptly, awareness exploded in Casey’s brain. “As is Paul Everett,” she realized aloud.

“Precisely,” came Patricia’s confirmation. “Paul is most definitely one of ours. Oh, and by the way, so is attorney Frederick Wilkenson. We added him to the equation to divert you. So you can tell Mr. McKay he isn’t losing his touch.”

Casey nodded, even though Patricia Carey couldn’t see her. “Tell me what you need of us. And then I’ll tell you everything you don’t already know. It’s more than enough for a conviction-and not just for Lyle Fenton. For key members of the Vizzini family.”

“That’s what I’m counting on, Ms. Woods.”

The plane landed smoothly at JFK’s International Terminal.

Paul leaned under the seat and grabbed his carry-on bag, which was his only form of luggage. He was frustrated enough that he had to endure the time necessary to pass through customs. He’d be damned if he’d stand in a baggage claim area, watching a stupid carousel go round forever before it spit out his bags.

The plane was still taxiing to the gate when Paul’s cell phone rang.

He stared at the “unknown” caller ID, weighing his options. It had to be the Bureau. There was no doubt they intended to stop him. And they’d had hours to fine-tune their plans.

Answering the phone was his best bet. Any clue he could get about how they were going to go about this might help him circumvent the obstacles. But, the truth was, he didn’t care if he had to report a bomb scare and evacuate the whole airport. He was getting to Sloane Kettering.

He punched on his phone. “Yes?”

“This is Casey Woods, Mr. Evans.” Casey rushed on, getting in the crucial words before Paul could decide to hang up on her. “Amanda Gleason hired me to find you.”