The Line Between Here and Gone (Forensic Instincts 2)

“Easily. It’s not as if I’m a stranger. I’ve had dinner in your house, been a strong supporter of your career since the beginning. Your wife is very fond of me. She knows the crisis my niece is going through. Tell her how desperate Amanda is. Tell the same thing to your constituents. Hell, make a public announcement. Remember, Amanda is a local herself. The fact that her congressman would care enough to extend himself in such a personal and meaningful way would earn you a shitload of votes for the next election. And, for God’s sake, we’re only talking about a blood test. I’m not asking you to donate an organ.”

A long pause as Mercer considered Fenton’s words.

“I’m not asking you, Cliff. I’m telling you. Consider the scenario I’ve just conjured up for you to be a bonus gift. But the testing itself is a given. You’ll have it done at Southampton Hospital, where you can get maximum exposure for your act of compassion. You’ll be flying back with me tonight and tested tomorrow in plenty of time for the evening news cycle. That’ll give your Chief of Staff all of today and tonight to get the word out. I also want the twins to be tested. They can do that at their respective schools. There’ll

be goodwill stretching from Long Island to California.”

“The twins?” Mercer sounded ill. “How do I explain that?”

“There’s nothing to explain. You’ve got an altruistic family. Mary Jane included. Let her go with you and be tested herself. She’s a loving mother. She’s devoted eighteen years to raising your kids. She’ll probably race you to the hospital tomorrow. Think how compelling the front page of the Southampton newspapers will look with your photos front and center.”

“God.” Mercer pressed his fingers to his temples. “How am I going to pull this off? No matter how you spin it, there are going to be questions.”

“Field them. That’s what you have a staff for. Say you became aware of the urgency of the situation when we had our business meeting today.” A quick glance around. “We’re having lunch on Capitol Hill, Cliff. Half of Washington probably already knows we’re together, and wondering what we’re discussing. Now they’ll know. We discussed your support for Fenton Dredging Company’s commitment to the Hamptons communities. After that, you asked about Justin. I told you. You immediately contacted your family and took action.” Fenton gave an impatient wave of his hand. “I might as well be your campaign manager at this point. I’ve just written the whole script for you. Now do it.”

Mercer’s mind was visibly racing. “I’ve got meetings tomorrow morning.”

“Move them to late afternoon. You’ll be back in plenty of time. My jet will get you here.” Fenton took a bite of his crab cake. “Now eat your lunch. Make your phone calls. We can talk business on the plane.”

“Sir?”

Patrick’s concentration was broken as he realized the waiter was talking to him, and apparently had been for the past minute or two. “Is everything all right?”

With a swift glance at his barely eaten burger, Patrick nodded. “Excellent. I was just absorbed in my work. But now I have all the important aspects of it under control. So I can sit back and enjoy my lunch.”

He did just that, texting Casey as he ate. The phone call would come later, when he was back at his hotel and had some privacy.

But, damn, it felt good to finally make some headway.

And major headway at that.

CHAPTER TEN

Casey was perched at the edge of Ryan’s desk, scratching Hero’s ears and gripping her phone as she prepared to hear Marc’s update, when Patrick beeped in.

“Hang on a sec,” she told Marc. “Let me see what’s going on in D.C.”

She switched calls. “Patrick. I got your cryptic text message. Now tell me, what did you find?”

“Nothing at breakfast. A windfall at lunch.”

“Well, now I’m screwed,” Casey replied. “I’ve got both you and Marc on the phone simultaneously, and each of you has a significant update. Who goes first?”

“Talk to Marc,” Patrick answered quickly. “I’m done here. I’m at the airport, about to jump on a plane. I’ll be home in a few hours.”

“Can the information wait till then?”

“Yeah. Besides, it has to. I need Ryan there when I review it with you. Is he in the office?”

“Yes.” Casey glanced at Ryan, who was still staring at his monitor, this time delving into John Morano’s employment history to see where he’d worked previously so as to determine how he’d managed to amass such large sums of money. “He’s here. I’m sitting in his lair right now. But I won’t be for long.”

“Why not? I need your insights and Ryan’s eye.”

“Can you get my insights by phone?”

“I suppose so. Why?”

“Because I’m about to leave for the Hamptons. Long story. I’ll fill you in later. Let me get back to Marc so we can make plans. Fly safe.” Casey switched lines again. “Hey, Marc. Patrick’s on his way home with information he sounds very hyped up about.”