It was time for her to grasp at her own straws.
She’d nixed the idea when Melissa had first suggested it, when she’d urged Amanda not to put all her eggs in one basket. But now Justin was worse. Amanda was beyond desperate. And the idea was promising. She had the contacts. Melissa would make all the arrangements.
There was no need to mention it to the Forensic Instincts team—not until it was a fait accompli. It would sidetrack them from their current path and it would piss them off, neither of which would work to her advantage. All she wanted to do was to expand the number of people looking for Paul. And maybe, just maybe, the right someone—the someone who’d seen Paul—was out there and would respond.
She had to try.
FBI
New York Field Office
26 Federal Plaza, Manhattan
Office of the Assistant Director in Charge
Supervisory Special Agent Neil Camden, head of the Vizzini Criminal Enterprise Task Force, didn’t enjoy being reamed out. Least of all by the head of the entire New York Field Office
But that was precisely what was going on at the moment.
His superior at Headquarters, James Kirkpatrick, Section Chief of Criminal Enterprises for the Americas, had been advised in advance of this meeting. He wasn’t happy. Still, given how many resources had been poured into this operation, it didn’t come as a surprise. What it did do was make Camden feel more ineffective.
“What have you and your team been doing?” Assistant Director in Charge Gary Linden demanded. “I went out on a limb with this. I expected results. This is a priority investigation. We have limited time and even more limited funds.”
“I understand that, sir.” SSA Camden could feel a fine sheen of perspiration form on his brow. “We have made progress. We know for a fact that Lyle Fenton is involved.”
A brief nod. “No surprises there.”
“Also, the video feed we planted in John Morano’s office caught his payoffs to the mob. We ran the pictures. They’re definitely from the Vizzini family. And, since the Vizzinis own the union leaders, there won’t be any construction until the Vizzinis are happy with the terms.”
“Great,” Linden said sarcastically. “None of this is news. The reason I let your task force pick this up isn’t to catch some punks collecting bribes or some mob bosses controlling union workers. What we really need to know is who’s behind this whole operation. All of it, not just some extortion scheme. Is it Fenton? Someone else? And how deep does it run? Are other families involved? Who’s running things for the Vizzinis? I want it all—and I want the evidence to go with it. Otherwise, we’re going to look like idiots kicking a dead horse.”
Camden nodded. “I realize that, sir. And we’re right on the brink. We just need a little more time.”
“We’re running out of time. And money. So you need to figure out who’s behind all this and find the evidence we need to convict him. And not soon, Camden. Yesterday.”
* * *
Closeted in Amanda’s apartment, Casey and Marc situated themselves on the living-room sofa and dialed into their conference line at the agreed-upon time.
“Everyone here?” Casey began.
“Yup,” Ryan replied, speaking for the group. “All present and accounted for. Right down to Hero, who’s eating my trail mix and slobbering on my shoes.”
“Good. Patrick, let’s start with you, since I’ve already caught up with Marc, who’ll fill you in later. What did you find in D.C.?”
Succinctly, Patrick relayed his day’s findings, starting with the less-promising lead at the coffee shop, and moving on to the more significant revelations he’d gained from the lunch between Fenton and Mercer. “I’m hoping to hear back from that waitress, Evelyn, soon,” he concluded. “I was concerned that if I hung around much longer I’d scare Paul Everett off—assuming it’s him who’s frequenting that coffee shop. So that lead’s a maybe—although Evelyn did seem pretty certain it was Everett. That having been said, my lunch was a real eye-opener.”
“That’s an understatement,” Casey agreed. “Least of all because Mercer’s clearly in Fenton’s pocket, which doesn’t come as a huge surprise. But let’s concentrate on the real issue at hand—Fenton’s slamming Mercer against a wall by dragging him back home to get tested as a potential donor for Justin. That’s not fueled by political manipulation. It’s very personal, and very pointed. Not to mention the fact that Fenton is also demanding that Mercer’s kids get tested. From what you just said, Patrick, Mercer’s wife was an afterthought, just to keep up appearances.”
“You got it.” Patrick’s tone was intense. “I caught the whole thing on my iPad so you can check it out yourself. In addition, I’ve followed up since then. An hour after their lunch, Mercer’s PR department issued a press release stating that whole BS story Fenton spouted at lunch. Sounds like a heroic gesture on the part of a congressman and his family to save a dying infant whose mother is part of Mercer’s local constituency. The Hamptons press will be swarming around that hospital tomorrow morning, snapping photos of the compassionate, heroic congressman, and writing articles filled with accolades.”
“No doubt. But we all know that Mercer’s motives aren’t based on altruism.” Casey paused. “Ryan…”
“Already on it,” Ryan came back. “My facial recognition software and I are hard at work. I’m comparing Fenton’s features, bone structure, etc. to Mercer’s. If there are any physical traits that suggest a genetic tie, I’ll find them. I’ve also pulled up whatever photos I can of the twins. Their Facebook pics are good, but not good enough for me. I’m going after better ones. I want to be as precise as possible, so I can catch even the slightest resemb
lance between Fenton and the Mercer crew. Not to worry. I’ll hack into whatever network’s necessary. I’ll have what I need within the hour.”
“I never doubted it.” Casey chewed her lip thoughtfully. “This changes Marc’s and my priorities when we see Fenton tonight.”