The Line Between Here and Gone (Forensic Instincts 2)

“We’ve got to search Paul’s place and make scent pads for Hero to sniff. We’ve also got to drive out to Montauk and visit the crime scene. On the way back, we’ll stop by Amanda’s apartment and get some personal items of Paul’s for Claire to work with, plus hit some of the spots that Paul and Amanda used to go together.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if I went with Patrick to D.C.?” Marc asked. “Two former Bureau agents have twice the contacts and twice the resources.”

“Probably,” Casey conceded. “But I need you here for several reasons. Number one, you’ll make things happen.”

“In other words, he can break into houses and businesses, or question people under false pretenses,” Patrick put in wryly.

A grin tugged at Casey’s lips. “Actually, I have permission from the owner to search the house Paul rented. As for the rest—who knows what might come up? Another reason I need Marc here is because Amanda trusts him. For whatever reason, she is comfortable with him and turns to him for support. We need to use that to our advantage. This whole excursion to the Hamptons is going to have to be quick and productive. Amanda doesn’t want to be away from her baby for long, and I don’t blame her. So we leave in an

hour. Ryan, you keep digging, and text me anything you find. Patrick, catch the first flight to D.C. Is everyone okay with that plan?”

“Yup.” Marc answered for all of them.

“Good. Then let’s make this thing happen.”

CHAPTER FIVE

The Hamptons were quiet.

If this had been July, Montauk Highway would have been a parking lot, and getting through the bumper-to-bumper traffic would have been a nightmare of untold proportions. All the rich, beautiful people with summer “cottages”—a euphemism for multimillion-dollar estates—would have been heading out here to enjoy the Hamptons’s elite shopping, popular clubs and private beaches. They were the Citidiots, as the locals called Manhattanites—the semiannual residents who helped define the Hamptons as a finely manicured alternate world, a playground for the mega-rich.

But, thankfully, it wasn’t July. It was December, way off-season, and only the sparse population of full-time residents were out here. All the better for the Forensic Instincts team. No crowds, the ability to move faster and more productively, and fewer false leads. Besides, Amanda and Paul’s relationship had happened off-season. So this was the best way to recreate the scenario, witnesses and all.

Their first stop was Hampton Bays and the cottage Paul had rented.

Farther out on Long Island than Amanda’s Westhampton Beach apartment, Hampton Bays was a combination of modest and expensive homes, nestled between Westhampton and Southampton. Right now it was sleepy, strung with Christmas lights that would be beautiful after sunset, but one couldn’t help but imagine how hopping the place would be during the summer season. The beaches along the bay were beautiful, and it was a hop, skip and a jump to dining, shopping and nightlife.

The FI team had made a joint decision with Amanda to drive out to Paul’s cottage first, then forty-five minutes away, out to Lake Montauk and the spot where Paul’s car had been found. After these two site visits, they’d backtrack and stop at Amanda’s apartment on the way home. The reasoning was simple: Amanda and Paul had spent more time at his place than at hers. And since Lake Montauk was the crime scene, Casey and Marc could search the area from there to Gosman’s Dock, checking for anything the police had overlooked—assuming they’d really been looking. At the same time, Hero could learn Paul’s scent, and Claire could immerse herself in Paul’s surroundings and see if she picked up on his energy. Whatever personal items of his that Amanda had kept, particularly those with sentimental value, were at her place, and would be sifted through on the return trip.

Casey turned the van into the driveway leading to the cozy little cottage Paul had rented. She’d been watching the road most of the way with an occasional direction from Marc, who was eyeing the GPS. But Claire, who was sitting in the backseat, was finely attuned to the change in Amanda as they neared their destination. She got quieter and quieter, her fingers clasped so tightly together that her knuckles were white. And there was a pained, faraway look in her eyes. She was remembering. She clearly hadn’t been out here since Paul’s disappearance. And the waves of memory were overwhelming.

Gently, Claire put her hand on Amanda’s shoulder. “Are you all right?” she asked.

Amanda gave a slight shake of her head. “Not really. I didn’t expect this to be so hard. And Montauk—I’m not even sure I can do it.”

“Yes, you can—you can do it for your son. Whatever time you need to compose yourself, to work through what you need to—just take it. We have plenty to keep us busy inside the cottage.”

“Thank you,” Amanda replied softly.

Marc glanced over his shoulder at Claire and scowled. She knew what he was thinking—that the clock was ticking and that Claire’s advice to Amanda to take her time was absurd. Claire gazed steadily back at him, conveying her certainty that this was the right way to go. If they pushed Amanda, they’d get less out of her. She needed to deal with her emotions. It was the only way this day trip was going to yield any results.

Reaching the top of the drive, Casey turned off the ignition and sat back, studying the small wood-shingled house with the rocking chair porch. It was a cottage in the truest sense, not the massive estates some of the wealthy locals referred to as their “summer cottages.” It couldn’t have more than two bedrooms and a bath, but it was perfect for a single guy whose career was based out here.

Even with the van’s windows only slightly cracked for Hero’s sake, you could smell the salty air, a sure indication that the bay was close by. A charming cottage, a good location—clearly, Paul Everett had been faring well.

“I can see why you and Paul spent most of your time here,” Casey said tactfully.

Amanda nodded. “The inside is lovely, too. And the place is well maintained, even though it’s fifty years old. Paul got lucky. The owner is a wealthy East Hampton guy who bought the cottage as an investment. He liked Paul. He rented it to him at a great price, especially because Paul wanted it year-round and not just as a summer vacation house. I think Paul would have eventually bought it if…” Amanda’s voice trailed off.

“Let’s go inside,” Marc suggested.

Amanda hesitated.

Casey glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Do you have cell reception?” she asked in a casual tone, as if she didn’t already know the answer.

Amanda glanced down at the phone that was perpetually on her lap or in her hand. “Yes.”

“Then why don’t you stay out here for a minute and check in with the hospital? The owner of the cottage told me he’d leave the door unlocked. Claire, Marc, Hero and I will get started while you get an update on Justin. Then, when you’re ready, you can join us.”