The Murder That Never Was (Forensic Instincts 5)

“We’re screwed on the make-it-happen-now front,” Hutch stated bluntly. He went on to explain the dilemma they were facing. “So the wheels are in motion, but we’re going to need some time.”

“We don’t have time,” Casey countered. “Emma’s life is on the line.”

“You’re not even sure she’s in Burlington.”

“I know the odds are good.”

“You’re waiting until the Bureau can get there.”

“The hell I am.”

Hutch slammed down his fist. “Dammit, Casey, you can’t just—”

“Watch me. Marc and Ryan are already en route. That means they’re hours ahead of the FBI. I’m giving them the go-ahead. If the SWAT team shows up first, they’ll back down. If not, they’re going in.”

The line went dead before Hutch could respond.

Marc’s conversation with Casey was a minute long.

With a terse sign-off, he disconnected the call and turned to Ryan, relaying Casey’s orders.

Ryan nodded, flooring the gas just a tad more than he already was and speeding up the highway.

“Don’t get a ticket,” Marc instructed. “We can’t afford the time, and we can’t give an explanation.”

“I’ve got my eye out for cops,” Ryan replied. “But we’ve got to push it as much as we can.”

Marc didn’t argue. Instead, he picked up his iPhone and pressed a private number.

“Yup,” Aidan answered. Abby’s voice in the background told Marc that his brother was working at home.

“Black Hawk.” Marc uttered the two words tersely.

There was a long pause at the other end. “Are you drunk?” Aidan finally asked.

“Not even a little.”

“Black Hawk? Marc, we haven’t played that game since we were kids.”

The game in question was a Special Forces battle that two like-minded brothers had reveled in. Yes, it was fictional, but to them it was real, with hand-to-hand combat, military warfare, amphibious attacks, and tactical strategy that was pretty sophisticated for two boys of eight and eleven. Back then, they didn’t know it would be their futures. They only knew that they loved playing it. When one of them said “Black Hawk,” the game was on.

“Yes, I know,” Marc replied. “But I need you to fast-forward it and come through for me now. It’s urgent.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

Marc laid out the entire situation to Aidan: Emma, her life-threatening circumstances, and the FBI’s time constraints.

“The SWAT team won’t reach her in time,” he concluded. “So we have to. Ryan’s with me. He’ll pinpoint our targets. But it’ll take the two of us—you and me—to pull this off.”

Aidan’s wheels were turning. “I’ll need to get in touch with a Marine buddy of mine and call in a favor.”

“Then do it. If we don’t get to Emma in time, she’ll be tortured, raped, and dead. You and I did military cross-training. We’re in sync. I’ll follow your lead. Just make this happen.”

Aidan swore under his breath, and Marc knew exactly what he was thinking.

“We’ll get it done before SWAT arrives,” Marc said quietly. “Abby won’t be caught in the crossfire of you being prosecuted. And capture is out of the question. You know how good we are. I promise you that Abby will never be left alone.”

Aidan blew out a breath. “I’m all she has, Marc. She’s my world—and I’m hers. You can’t promise me shit.” A pause. “Goddammit. I can’t let Emma die. And you and Ryan can’t do this without me.”