The Murder That Never Was (Forensic Instincts 5)
“I know we will.”
Casey turned back to her cup of coffee. She took another sip, that distracted expression back on her face.
“Okay, boss, what’s up?” Marc demanded. “You’ve clearly got something else on your mind. Let’s have it.”
No one was taken aback by Marc’s bluntness. Not at this point in the meeting. Still, they were relieved that he was the one who’d said it like it was. Any of the rest of them might be cleaning out their desks right now. Casey didn’t tolerate insubordination, unless it was being done one-on-one and in private.
Casey put aside her coffee—again. “Nothing is bugging me. I just have some news. It’s predominantly going to affect me, but I have a strong feeling that the team will benefit from it, as well.” A hint of a pause. “Hutch got an unbelievable opportunity from the Bureau. He’s leaving Quantico for a job in the field. He’ll now be squad supervisor of his new field office’s NCAVC. He’ll also be the BAU coordinator there, as well as the head of all the Violent Crimes squads.”
Marc’s brows shot up. “Impressive. It couldn’t happen to a more deserving guy.”
It was no secret that Marc thought the world of Hutch. They’d been friends at the BU, and Marc had been the one to introduce him to Casey—a success story that he took great pride in rubbing in.
“Which field office is he going to?” Patrick asked. “It must be one of the biggies for him to leave the BAU in Quantico.”
“I’d say so.” Casey glanced around the table, responding to the sea of curious expressions. “In two weeks, he’ll be working at the New York Field Office.”
“Yes!” Marc leaned forward to give Casey a high-five. “That’s awesome all ways around—personally, professionally—you name it. Hell, he can even come to my bachelor party.”
Claire stood up, walked around the table, and gave Casey a huge hug. “I’m so happy for you. I know you’re not planning out your and Hutch’s future—at least not yet—but I also know how much this long-distance relationship has taken out of you. All that stress will be eliminated. And good for Hutch—he’ll be doing all the things he loves best.”
“Including—” Ryan began with a lecherous grin.
“Don’t even think of going there,” Claire interrupted in a tone that made him stop mid-quip.
“You can thank Claire,” Casey informed Ryan. “She just saved your ass.” An innocent look. “Unless you’d rather thank her later? In your own personal way?”
“Oooh, snap,” Emma said with a grin. “Ryan, you’ve just been shot down by our brilliant leader.”
Ryan threw his hands up. “I surrender.” He grew serious. Brows drawn together, he gave Casey a cautious look. “Don’t rip me a new one, boss, but, since this will impact the team and our entire confidentiality system, I have to ask—will Hutch be moving in here?”
“It’s a fair question,” Casey replied, and it was clear she’d been prepared for someone to ask it. “I’ll be as honest as I can. Hutch is aware of the possible conflict of interest. Plus, he and I are taking it a step at a time. So he’ll be getting his own place, as soon as he can actually find one. Affordable housing in the City is next to nil. Hutch might have to stay here for a bit. Is that a problem for anyone?” She glanced around the table. “Seriously, I want you to be honest.”
The whole team shook their heads.
“Hutch is always a welcome addition,” Patrick said. “Plus it’s very refreshing to spend time with a law enforcement agent who actually follows the rules.”
A group chuckle ensued.
“Hey,” Marc said. “Why doesn’t Hutch take my place? Bensonhurst is pretty convenient to Federal Plaza.”
“Convenient isn’t an adjective I’d use to describe any Manhattan commutes,” Patrick muttered. “Give me my place in Hoboken anytime. One train ride and I’m home.”
“Okay, as convenient as possible,” Marc amended. “The point is, I’m virtually living at Maddy’s, moving my stuff in a little at a time. I never use my place.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “And I’d sublet it to Hutch at a great price.”
Casey was nodding enthusiastically. “I think Hutch will love that idea. Run it by him.”
?
??Are you kidding? I’m calling him the minute we walk out of here. Heavy-duty congratulations are in order.”
7:30 p.m.
Jim sat nervously at the long, polished teak dining room table, listening to the silence and toying with his food. Dr. Lubinov had welcomed him to his home, said he hoped Jim liked fish, and then led the way to the dining room. That had been the last word spoken.
Conversation was obviously not going to take place while they ate. That would come later. Okay, he could live with that.
He turned back to his meal, pretending to be fascinated by it.