irs celebrating.”
She nodded. “Second-floor conference room. You’re welcome to join us.”
“I plan to.” He headed upstairs, Casey following right behind.
“We have a new guest,” she announced, gesturing for Patrick to join the group. “Help yourself to a glass of champagne,” she invited.
“Sounds good.” Lynch walked over to the table, nodding his hellos and taking the champagne flute Marc proffered.
Hero picked his head up and brayed.
“Easy, boy. I’m not an intruder,” Patrick assured him. “Just a friend and fellow law enforcement officer.”
With a thorough sniff—and an equally thorough slobber—of Patrick’s shoes, Hero seemed to be convinced. He resettled himself, closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
“Have a seat.” Casey indicated one of the empty chairs around the table.
Patrick lowered himself into the chair, then raised his glass. “To all of you. For solving two cases—including one that’s been haunting me for over three decades. I can’t even imagine how many laws you broke, and I don’t want to know. All I care about is that a little girl is home with her parents tonight. And a woman who’s more a victim than an offender is about to get the help she needs. That’s the best outcome we could hope for under the circumstances.”
“Were you at the Willises’ till now?” Marc asked. The Forensic Instincts team had stayed only long enough to witness the touching family reunion—one that gave them the rare chance to see Edward Willis break down and weep, and to see Krissy meet her grandfather. Then they’d wrapped things up with the task force, and said their goodbyes. Hope Willis had followed them outside, insistent on giving them an overly generous check right there on the spot. They’d graciously accepted, asked to be kept posted on how Krissy was doing and left.
“Yeah, I came here straight from Armonk,” Patrick confirmed. “Krissy still hasn’t said very much. But that’s to be expected. She was with the FBI child psychologist when I left.”
“Any news on the charges against Felicity and Linda?”
“Not yet.” Patrick frowned. “Both situations are difficult. Both have extenuating circumstances. Neither woman is fit to stand trial. Obviously, Linda is by far the guiltier of the two, since she set this whole nightmare in motion. I’m sure she’ll be transferred to a high security health facility, where she’ll be treated for Alzheimer’s. And Felicity will need intensive therapy, and a lot of emotional support. I hope the sentence imposed on her will reflect her lifelong trauma.”
“I’m sure it will,” Casey replied. “Especially given Hope’s compassionate heart. She’ll intervene on her sister’s behalf. She’s adamant that a ruined life is more than enough price for Felicity to pay.”
A nod. “Oh, one interesting twist I got from Peg before she left with Felicity. Apparently the mob was so worried that we’d dig up something unrelated but incriminating on them, that they got one of the Sunny Gardens nurses to do some preemptive damage control.”
“Even though they had nothing to do with the two kidnappings?” Ryan looked amused. “Glad to make a mobster squirm, but what happened with this nurse?”
“Denise Amato,” Patrick supplied. “Seems she’s sleeping with Bill Parsons, Tony Bennato’s construction foreman. Peg got her to talk. She didn’t know a lot. Only that Bennato got inside info that warranted his ordering Parsons to try and find a way to point the Feds, the cops—” a pointed look in Marc’s direction “—and I quote, ‘and that nutcase Navy SEAL’ in a different direction. So, on Parsons’s instructions, Amato wheeled Linda Turner down to the lake, where Linda promptly went to pieces, screaming and crying and toppling her wheelchair to get away.”
“I guess Bennato knew about Claudia Mitchell’s confrontation with Lorna-slash-Linda, and dug up dirt on Linda’s past,” Marc said, trying to keep his lips from quirking.
“Yeah, and I guess you paid Parsons a less than cordial surprise visit on your own.”
“Do you want me to answer that?”
“Nope.”
“I didn’t think so.”
Patrick cleared his throat. “That brings me to the other reason I’m here.”
“Gee,” Ryan said, “and here I thought you just came by to tell us how awesome we are.”
“Nope. Like I said, you’re great at what you do. No arguments there. Your methods, however, leave a hell of a lot to be desired. You need supervision and restraint. I’ve decided to offer you both.”
“Pardon me?” That brought Casey’s head up.
“You need me. And I’m bored by the freelance assignments that come my way. So I’ve decided to come on board—and keep you out of jail.”
“You want to join Forensic Instincts?” Casey had to make sure she was hearing right.
“Surprised?”