Marc chuckled. “It would also explain Fenton’s reaction when he first saw me. If Morano described me to him, then Fenton must have recognized me—and not as Robert Curtis.” An exaggerated grimace. “And here I thought my mere presence had scared the shit out of him.”
“It probably did. Doubly so, if he put the pieces together.” Casey sighed. “If you’re right, it means they’re onto us. I knew that would eventually be unavoidable. I just wish we could have avoided tipping our hand a little longer. Now, both Morano and Fenton will be on their guard. So will Mercer, if he’s in on this. And Fenton will make sure to mention something to Amanda that’ll either upset her or make her wary of us.” A quick sideways glance. “She trusts you, Marc. I think you should do some damage control ASAP.”
“How much do you want me to say?”
“That we were thorough and direct with her uncle. That he seemed uncomfortable with some of our questions. That we had no intentions of offending him, but that it was our job to cover every base—including some that dealt with Paul’s possible criminal involvement. And that we’re sure he understands, since he’s as eager to find Justin’s father as we are.”
“Got it. The truth, only sprayed with perfume.”
“Right. Then, no matter what Fenton says to her, Amanda’s reaction will be tempered. After all, there were no accusations made. If Fenton has a guilty conscience, that’s his problem.” Casey shrugged. “I have a feeling that the deeper we dig, the more we’re going to find on Fenton. Eventually, Amanda’s going to have to be told. For now, she has enough on her plate. Her focus is on Justin, as it should be. Her uncle’s peace of mind is low on her priority list. And if it turns out that Fenton had something to do with her losing Paul… Let’s just say that I doubt she’ll be too concerned about hurting his feelings.”
Marc glanced at his watch. “Let’s get my stuff and get back to the office. I want to hear what Ryan’s figured out so far.”
“And what Claire and Patrick got from visiting Amanda at the hospital. No one’s called or texted. Which means everything’s still in the works. We’ll have more to discuss when we’re all together.”
As if on cue, Casey’s cell phone rang. Caller Unknown registered on the dashboard screen. It could be anyone, threatening or otherwise. That never stopped Casey; it only made her cautious.
She pressed the button on her steering wheel and picked up the call. “Casey Woods.”
“Kyle Hutchinson,” a deep, masculine voice replied.
“Hutch.” Relief surged through her. Hutch’s voice was the last one Casey expected to hear. She was mentally wrapped up in the investigation, and this call was unexpected. The sound of Hutch’s voice was a welcome balm, and brought with it the usual surge of pleasure. More so than usual, since they hadn’t spoken in weeks, which was a rarity. “Are you back in Quantico?”
“Just finished up my assignment. I’m at a stopover in London. I’ll be flying back to the States tomorrow.”
Hutch didn’t elaborate and Casey didn’t ask. Despite how involved they were, she knew better than to pry. Hutch worked for the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, and most of his assignments were on a “need to know” basis. He’d just transferred from the BAU-3—crimes against children—to the BAU-2—crimes against adults. He was much happier. The former had started to get to him. Kids being hurt, killed or worse. He’d had enough.
He and Casey had been committed to their long-distance relationship for months now, and they’d managed to make it work. Their professional lives had crossed just once—on the kidnapping case Forensic Instincts had worked in October. The two of them had butted heads—it hadn’t been pretty.
“Hey, Hutch,” Marc chimed in. “I’m here, too, before you say anything that’ll make me blush.”
A chuckle. “Thanks for the warning.” Hutch knew Marc from his BAU days. They were friends. In fact, Marc had been the one to introduce him to Casey.
“Are you working?” Hutch asked.
“Round the clock.” Casey blew out a breath. “It’s a rough case.”
“You’ll tell me about it tomorrow. I’ll be landing at JFK a little before six o’clock—early enough to take you to dinner.”
Casey blinked. “You’re coming to New York?”
“Yup. I’ve been working nonstop for weeks. I’ve got a few days of R & R. I chose to spend them in the Big Apple.”
“That’s great.” Casey hated feeling torn. “But Hutch, the case I’m working on…”
“Not to worry. I’ll claim whatever snatches of time you have. Otherwise, I’ll be eating three squares and sleeping in. I’m hungry and I’m beat.”
“Okay.” Casey felt another surge of relief. There was something very steadying about Hutch. He was intense, but he knew where to draw the line. He had to. He’d been a cop, now he was FBI. He had nerves of steel. She had the nerves, but she had problems drawing the line. Despite her best efforts, her cases got inside her. Hutch helped her find balance.
“See you tomorrow,” he said. “And tell Hero he’ll be sharing the bed.”
Casey smiled as she disconnected the call.
“You know,” Marc mused aloud. “Maybe we could clear it with Amanda, and ask Hutch for his help. We’ll tell her he’s an FBI consultant. He might give us a fresh take on Paul Everett.”
Casey’s brows rose. “Hutch and me working together? The death toll could be high.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN