The Line Between Here and Gone (Forensic Instincts 2)

“I’ll spare you the mathematical details and just get to the bottom line. I ran a whole bunch of different facial recognition algorithms, just to see if the results came out the same. They did. There’s more than an eighty-percent chance that Lyle Fenton and Congressman Mercer are related. The percentages drop down somewhat when you compare Fenton with the twins, and even more when you compare Mercer with Amanda. But that’s to be expected, since the relationships are once or twice removed. They’re still high, though. High enough for me to conclude that there are blood ties across the board. Most important, in my opinion, Clifford Mercer is Lyle Fenton’s son.”

“No shocker. But it adds a whole new dimension to this investigation.” Casey tapped her fingernails on the table—a gesture that meant she was digesting and analyzing the situation. “Mercer’s being illegitimate wouldn’t mean the end of his career, not these days. But the fact that his biological father has as much to gain from this relationship—now that’s a whole different story. It’s bad enough to be in someone’s pocket. But being in the pocket of the man who’s secretly your father? A pocket deep enough to make or break your career? That’s a scandal-waiting-to-happen.” She gave Ryan a quizzical look. “Who’s Mercer’s mother?”

“She was Catherine Mercer, born Catherine Wilmot. She died of cancer four years ago.” Ryan glanced at his notes. “No eye-openers about her background. Middle-class. Born and bred in a less affluent section of Bridgehampton. Got married at twenty-one to Warren Mercer, a rich, significantly older attorney she met as a secretary in his law firm.”

“Let me guess. One child, Clifford, who was the light of his father’s life.”

“You got it.” Ryan shot Casey an admiring look. “Nice assessment.”

“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist,” Casey replied. “If there were other children, keeping the secret wouldn’t have been as crucial. Catherine would still be tied to her husband through the other kids. But an only child? And a son, to boot? Catherine wouldn’t risk her marriage by letting the cat out of the bag.”

“Are we sure Clifford Mercer isn’t adopted?” Claire asked. “We can’t assume Catherine had an affair with Lyle Fenton.”

“Sorry to burst your naive little bubble, Claire-voyant, but they were hot and heavy for a couple of years,” Ryan informed her. “I checked with a few of Catherine’s old friends. At first, they were guarded. But I managed to charm them into talking to me.”

“And how did you manage that?” Claire asked. “I doubt they’d be interested in a trade—their cooperation for one of your Superman comic books.”

“Nope. No need to trade.” Rather than pissed, Ryan looked amused. “Just some finesse on my part. I told them I worked for Congressman Mercer, and that I’d been assigned the job of protecting his political future by preserving his mother’s good name. I asked them to tell me what they knew about her extramarital affair so I could squelch it. Loyal friends that they were, they were happy to supply me with the information.”

“What about Warren Mercer?” Claire demanded. “Did they say whether or not he knew? Or is he still in the dark after all these years? Actually, is he even alive?”

“Oh, he’s alive,” Ryan assured her. “He was Lyle Fenton’s lawyer. And the two of them were golfing buddies.”

“Were?” Casey jumped on the past tense.

“Yup—were. Right around the time of Catherine’s death, all that went to hell. Warren Mercer dropped Fenton as a client right after Catherine died. And from everything I could dig up, he and Fenton had no further dealings after that, business or personal.”

“I smell a deathbed confession,” Marc surmised aloud. “Catherine probably had to clear her conscience. Her son was a grown man, so she wasn’t worried about his reaction anymore. And she probably knew her husband wouldn’t cut off ties with Cliff, not after forty-plus years of being his father.”

“I agree.” Casey’s brows were still knit. “The question is, when did Fenton find out? Did she also tell him when she was dying? Or did he know beforehand? Clifford Mercer certainly didn’t tell him. By the time his mother died, the man was a political figure. The last thing he’d want is to give Fenton that kind of power over him. No, my guess is that Fenton already knew. But for how long?”

“My gut feeling?” Marc replied. “For a long time. Maybe even before Cliff was born. We’re talking about a man with tons of street smarts. He sure as hell knew how to count. And, given the timing of the affair, he had to suspect that he was potentially Clifford’s father. On the flip side, when he went to Catherine and she assured him the child was her husband’s, Fenton was probably überrelieved. He’s a lot of things, but a family man is not one of them.”

“I agree with that,” Patrick said. “I watched the two men together at lunch. There’s no father-son bond there. If anything, they’re distant when it comes to personal matters. Fenton asked about the twins as if he were discussing the neighbor’s kids. He got more intense about business than he did about family. Except where it came to Justin. Then, he was single-minded. He practically forced Mercer to get tested.”

“Justin represents his future,” Casey replied. “A new life, like a blank slate waiting to be written on. A last-chance hope for being the future of Fenton’s business empire. When the congressman was born, Fenton wasn’t thinking along those lines. He was young, unconcerned about the future.”

“Let’s not forget that DNA testing for paternity didn’t come into play until the 1980s,” Ryan supplied. “So even if Fenton had a paternity test, it wouldn’t have been conclusive. I doubt he pushed for it, though. I agree with Marc. I’m sure he backed off with great relief.”

“The truth is, he didn’t even want to know he had a child.” Claire’s gray eyes were filled with disgust. “But eventually he found out. So how could he walk away? Better question—what prompted him to come back? Was it because he wanted something out of Clifford Mercer?”

Casey turned toward her. “Are you getting some kind of sense?”

“Nothing.” Claire shook her head. “I’m as stymied as you are. Remember, I’ve never met either Fenton or Mercer.”

“Maybe it’s time you did. Maybe it’s time we all did.”

“You want to show up at the hospital tomorrow.” Marc’s statement was a conclusion, not a guess.

“I sure as hell do. Not just me. You and Claire, too. And Hero. I want him to pick up some initial scents from the congressman. Who knows how corrupt he is? Not just by being in Fenton’s pocket, but worse. What if he’s connected to Paul Everett’s disappearance? For all we know, Everett found out the truth about Mercer and Fenton and blackmailed them. Maybe that factored into his disappearance. And, if it did, we can add Mercer to the list of people who might know where Paul is.” Casey’s gaze shifted to Patrick. “I’d love to get your firsthand take on this, but we can’t risk it. Not when you were sitting next to the congressman and Fenton at lunch. If Mercer were to recognize you, it would blow everything.”

“That’s okay.” Patrick waved away Casey’s explanation. “You’re right. Besides, I want to do some old-fashioned

digging of my own. I’ll see what I can learn about Fenton and Mercer, and any mutual ties they had to Paul Everett. That might give us a path to follow.”

“Good.” Casey glanced from Patrick to Claire and back. “Your turn. What happened when you saw Amanda at the hospital tonight?”

“Ladies first.” Patrick gestured for Claire to talk.