A minute later, he was on a stretcher, an oxygen mask over his face, and he was being carried out to the waiting ambulance.
Once the patient and his EMTs were inside, the ambulance driver took off, sirens blaring.
“I hope you brought my bag,” Paul said drily, as he sat up and removed the mask. “I carry my own aspirin.”
“We got it.” Hutch patted the travel bag, then leaned back on his haunches. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable. That mask has to be on your face when we go screeching up to the emergency room entrance. You’re being carried in there the same way you were carried out of the plane.” He extended his hand. “SSA Kyle Hutchinson,” he said. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“SA Paul Evans, although I doubt I have to introduce myself.” Paul shook Hutch’s hand. “Are you from the New York Field Office?”
“Nope. Quantico. I’m BAU-2.”
Paul’s brows rose. “They sent the BAU to get me?”
Hutch grinned. “Not in the way you mean, no. It’s a long story. You’ll hear all the details later. For now, let’s just get you to the hospital and your son.”
“Where is that woman who called me—Casey Woods?”
“She’s with Amanda, telling her what’s happening. You’re a lucky man, Evans. You’ve got a great woman, a fighter of a son and the best private investigative team there is all in your corner. Without Casey, this could never have happened.”
Paul’s eyes narrowed as he tried to absorb what was happening. “How did she get the FBI to cooperate?”
Another grin. “She’s not only one hell of an investigator, she’s one hell of a horse trader.”
“She dug up information on Fenton,” Paul realized aloud. “She knows what’s going on. She’s helping the Bureau complete their operation.”
“You got it.”
“Damn.” Paul shook his head in amazement. “So this is for real. Casey Woods was being straight with me.”
“As an arrow,” Hutch assured him. He indicated the man next to him. “This is SA Mike Shore of New York’s violent crimes squad.”
“I’m at the Long Island RA,” Mike said, shaking Paul’s hand. “I was part of the initial investigation into Lyle Fenton, before the whole UC operation began.”
“Good to meet you.” Paul still looked a bit dazed. “Can either of you fill me in on my son’s condition?” His voice quivered on the word son.
Hutch was frank. “All I know is that he’s holding on. I don’t know the details of his illness, but I’m sure the doctor will fill you in. He’s been advised you’re on your way. You’ll be donor tested immediately—right after you have a chance to see Amanda and to meet Justin.”
“Justin.” Paul tasted the name on his lips. “I still can’t believe this.” He dragged his hand through his hair, then lay back down on the stretcher. “Give me that oxygen mask,” he instructed. “And tell the driver to ignore rush hour traffic. Turn on that siren and drive up the shoulder of the Van Wyck and over the goddamned Queensboro Bridge. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no one else on the road.”
* * *
Casey sat Amanda down in a quiet corner of the waiting area, so that she could finally tell her client the news she’d been aching to hear. Amanda looked like a fine thread that had been frayed and was about to snap, as if she’d hung on just about as long as any human being could. This poor woman, this poor mother, had endured—and was still enduring—a living hell. She’d visibly aged this past week, internalizing each emotional blow that threatened to take Justin away. God, it would feel so good to share this wonderful, positive news with her.
“What is it?” Amanda searched Casey’s face. “The way you dragged me out of the PICU, I know it’s urgent. What’s happened?”
Casey took Amanda’s hands in hers, not even trying to conceal the tears of joy that were glittering on her lashes. “We found Paul,” she said simply. “He’s on his way to Sloane Kettering right now.”
Amanda lurched with shock, all the color draining from her face. For an instant, she looked as if she might faint. “You… He’s…” She couldn’t seem to form a coherent sentence. “How? When?”
“I’ve known since earlier today. I just didn’t want to tell you until we’d successfully pulled it off. Now we have. His plane landed just after 4:00 p.m.—about forty-five minutes ago. We helped him stage a heart attack. He’s arriving by ambulance. He’ll be here before six.”
“A heart attack?” Clearly, Amanda was only absorbing pieces of what Casey was saying.
“He’s fine,” Casey assured her. “It was all an act. We needed to get him here as fast as possible.” Casey waved away the rest of Amanda’s questions. “Let Paul fill you in on the rest. Just know this—the instant he found out about Justin, he moved heaven and earth to get here. So don’t doubt his commitment.”
As Casey spoke, Patrick walked over, followed by the rest of the team, who’d just arrived. Everyone wanted to be here to see the culmination of their relentless search.
“They’ll be here soon,” Claire told Amanda with a smile. “Paul’s energy is overwhelming. I almost can’t breathe past it. The only thing rivaling it is your energy.”