The Line Between Here and Gone (Forensic Instincts 2)

“I see your point.” Mercer nodded. “But hasn’t that ship sailed already?”

“To a point, yes, thanks to the first three or four hours during which time the video went viral. But we’ve already done damage control on that front. We’ve worked with Amanda and substituted the toll-free number for ours and eliminated our contact information from the video. So if you check out YouTube now, you’ll see a different message at the bottom. The phone calls and the connection to FI should start petering out.”

“I see.” Mercer’s gaze flickered ever so briefly to Fenton’s. “Then of course I’ll help you. I’ll issue statements to everyone out there, and send written statements to the rest of the press. I’ll also be on live TV in—” he checked his watch “—seventeen minutes. I’ll stress Justin’s predicament and I’ll have the stations air the toll-free number, if you give it to me.”

“Thank you so much, Cliff.” Claire was studying him as she spoke. “This could make all the difference in saving Justin’s life.”

“I hope so.” Mercer rose. “So unless there’s anything else?”

“Just one quick question,” Casey said swiftly. “Mr. Fenton told us you barely knew Paul Everett. So I realize there’s not much you can tell us. But it’s clear to me that you’re a good judge of character. When you met Everett, did you sense anything about him that made you uncomfortable or suspicious?”

Okay, it didn’t take a psychic to sense the tension in the room. Mercer cleared his throat and blinked a few times. And Lyle Fenton looked pissed as hell.

Mercer recovered first.

“As you said, I met Paul Everett once, maybe twice. He was an enthusiastic supporter, which explains why he was at the campaign party where he met Amanda. We were introduced, he spoke highly of me and my political platform, and that was it. He seemed friendly, personable and intelligent. That’s about all I can tell you. I didn’t sense anything off-putting about him. Then again, I doubt he’d show that side of himself to me if it existed. He wanted my support in the construction of his hotel.”

“That’s true.” Casey backed off as fast as she had started. She’d gotten what she needed. Now it was time to part friends. She never knew when they’d need to speak to Mercer again—as an ally or an adversary.

“I appreciate your time, Cliff,” she said. “We’ll leave the way we came. And thank you so much for helping us out.”

“My pleasure,” the congressman replied.

Hardly, Casey thought. I wish I could be a fly on the wall when we leave you and Fenton alone.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The Forensic Instincts team had just driven out of the hospital parking lot when Casey’s cell phone rang.

The caller ID flashed Unknown.

Glancing at the other occupants of the van, Casey pressed the button on her steering wheel.

“Casey Woods.”

“Ms. Woods, this is Detective Jones of the New York State Police’s Bureau of Criminal Investigation. I need to speak with you about the case you’re currently working on—the one that involves Paul Everett’s homicide.”

Casey slowed down the van and pulled over to the curb. “May I ask why, Detective?”

“I’d rather not get into details on the phone. When can I meet with you at your office? Time is of the essence.”

Casey could have told him that she was driving by his neck of the woods right there in Long Island. But she didn’t. “I’m out of the office right now,” she said instead. “I won’t be back for several hours.”

“I see.” Jones cleared his throat. He was dying to ask her where she was and why. Casey could sense it as clearly as if he had spoken. Just as she had a strong hunch that he knew exactly what she was working on.

“Would it be easier to meet outside the office?” she asked, intentionally letting him know it would be closer to his troop. “I assume you’re located in Suffolk County.”

“Yes, in Farmingdale.”

“Republic Airport?” Casey asked, specifying the headquarters of Troop L, which handled all of Nassau and Suffolk Counties.

“That’s right.”

“There’s a Starbucks nearby. Why don’t we meet there at…” She glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. It was almost noon. “One-fifteen?”

“That would be fine.”

“See you then.”