“Good.” Casey spread her notes out across the table. “Okay, team, let’s brainstorm each topic. Yoda, please transcribe all our comments. Summarize the points of consensus and disagreement. Display our progress in real time on a whiteboard for each.”
“All right, Casey. I am ready.”
“Team, let’s begin by addressing the option of Paul Everett being a criminal offender.”
“Wait,” Claire interrupted. “The moment you spelled out the topics, and then again when I saw them in writing, I got that powerful sense of binary energy again. The pull is way too strong for us to ignore. Casey, whatever he is, Paul Everett is not dead. I understand you have to explore every option, but that should be our last. Not only because I know I’m right, but because it’s futile to pursue an avenue that’s of no use to Amanda. Finding out that Justin’s father isn’t alive defeats our purpose, and hers. Frankly, it’s a waste of time.”
The rest of the team nodded. Even Ryan didn’t dispute Claire’s argument.
“We all seem to be in agreement,” Casey replied. “Adding Hutch’s reaction to the equation, let’s shelve ‘dead’ for the very end and concentrate on the other scenarios.”
“You can save time on the Witness Protection debate,” Patrick said with great reluctance. “Ditto with the fugitive discussion. Either possibility is strong, given the possible mob connection and the fact that whoever made Everett disappear went to great lengths to make it convincing.”
“And?” Casey prompted.
Patrick cleared his throat, fiddling with his pen and keep
ing his gaze lowered. Whatever he was about to say, he clearly did not want to say.
“I have an old buddy with the U.S. Marshals,” he replied at last. “He owes me a bunch of favors. I’ll call one in. He can do the necessary digging to find out whether or not Paul Everett is in the Witness Protection Program or a known and wanted fugitive. He’s not going to like it. I don’t like it. But he’ll do it.” A defensive pause. “I’m not asking him for any details,” Patrick clarified. “So don’t press me for them. I’m just looking for a yes or no on both counts. That’s the best I can do.”
“It’s great.” Casey knew how much Patrick loathed going this route. It went against every straight-and-narrow grain in him. “We don’t need to know your friend’s name or any specifics about Paul’s situation.” A brief pause as Casey tested the waters. “Do you think your friend would be willing to get a message to Paul? Would you be comfortable asking?”
Another scowl. “I doubt that Everett’s in the Witness Protection Program. If he were, he’d still have internet access. Which means he’d have seen the YouTube video and reacted. If he’s a fugitive, however…” A thoughtful pause. “Then we’re probably screwed. But, rather than speculate, I’ll make the phone call and ask the question. I’ll do it right after our meeting breaks up.”
“Thank you.” Casey turned back to the screen. “That leaves us with two options to discuss and pursue. Criminal Offender and Confidential Informant. Let’s throw out the pros and cons. We’ll take our assignments from there.”
They discussed and debated those two possibilities until they’d slimmed down the options Everett could have taken within each, and decided on the best ways to proceed.
Marc and Ryan were going back to the Hamptons that night and installing Gecko in Morano’s trailer. Ryan was simultaneously going to fine-tune, intensify and finish his in-depth study of Morano’s and Everett’s histories, going as far back as necessary to find a connection between the men or an inconsistency in Everett’s background.
Casey was going straight to Detective Jones. In person. No more cat-and-mouse telephone games. She would get into the troop barracks to see the guy, and to eyeball him face-to-face as she fired questions at him. In addition to that, she’d call in every favor and pull out every stop with the NYPD, since she’d consulted for them before forming Forensic Instincts. They’d hopefully have a handle on the CI angle, especially given mob involvement. Maybe she could even get them to tap into one of their own who was working on an FBI task force and could—and would—get her answers on whether or not Everett was a federal informant.
Claire was driving out to the Hamptons with Marc and Ryan, then going her own way. She was determined to revisit Paul’s cottage and Amanda’s apartment—alone—and immerse herself in their energies until she finished what she’d started when she went out there the first time. Being alone, without distractions, she felt she’d have a stronger chance of keying into something. Plus, she’d been involved in this case longer now, giving her a better shot at connecting with the people and their circumstances than she’d had a few days ago.
Hero was going, too. But not for Claire.
This was the hard part, the part that Patrick winced at when the discussion turned to Marc.
After breaking into Morano’s trailer, Ryan and Marc had another stop to make. This one was Marc’s to do solo. Actually, not solo. With Hero.
Ryan was driving them out to the Shinnecock Bay marina where Lyle Fenton docked his private yacht. Ryan had dug up not only that piece of information, but the fact that, during the winter months, Fenton’s yacht was housed in a vacant building he’d purchased adjacent to the marina, where it was safe from the elements and readied for the next boating season.
Marc was going to break in. After that, he had three goals in mind. One, to thoroughly search the yacht for anything even remotely incriminating. Two, to take a few of Fenton’s personal items—things he’d never miss—from which to make scent pads for Hero for future use. And three, to bring along previously made scent pads of Paul Everett, so that Hero could tell Marc if Everett had ever been on Fenton’s yacht.
Breaking into that building and boarding that yacht required a stealthy approach or a search warrant.
Marc was an expert on the former. The latter was not something he gave a damn about. Yes, the risks were higher than they would be when he and Ryan broke into Morano’s trailer. Fenton might even have a security guard there. And Marc wasn’t going alone, which would have made invisibility a snap for a former Navy SEAL. He had Hero with him. A bloodhound couldn’t be concealed. So he and Marc would have to be casually but openly visible. That task didn’t faze Marc in the least. He was a creative guy. He’d get himself and Hero in that building and on board that yacht.
The whole team was aware that, if Marc managed to get anything on Fenton, he’d be paying him another visit at his East Hampton home. And this time, the meeting wasn’t going to be quite as civil as the last time.
This was the part where Patrick gritted his teeth. He understood what was coming, and it went against everything he stood for. But he’d known what he was signing up for when he’d joined Forensic Instincts. He wouldn’t stop the team from breaking the laws he’d spent his entire career enforcing—not because his gut reaction wasn’t to do exactly that, but because he’d learned to keep his eye on the prize. FI didn’t jump into sketchy operations hastily. But they did what had to be done. And what had to be done now was to find Paul Everett so he could save his son’s life.
Patrick forced himself to think about Amanda, and about little Justin who was struggling for his life. Then he steeled himself and kept his mouth shut.
Picking up on Patrick’s tension, Casey turned to give him a questioning look. “Are you okay with all this?”
“I can live with it,” he replied tersely.