A Face to Die For (Forensic Instincts 6)

“Identical twins.” Gia shook her head as she spoke. For a complete stranger to jump to that conclusion? It spoke volumes about the way things appeared. “I knew we looked alike, but seeing you in person…”

“It’s bizarre,” Dani finished for her. She opened her mouth to say more and then flinched as a man in a business suit blew by, his suitcase whacking her as he did.

“Sorry,” he muttered, never breaking stride.

As Dani rubbed her elbow, Gia rolled her eyes at the man. “Well, welcome to New York,”

she intoned. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll go back to my place so you can change and unwind. The rest is completely your call. We can race around like thoroughbreds, or we can hang out like couch potatoes. I’m up for either.”

“The first part sounds great,” Dani replied. “Going back to your place for a while. I need to catch my breath. Also, we’ll have some time in the car to talk. I’d like that before we start making our to-do plans.”

“Perfect. Let’s go.”

* * *

A pair of eyes watched intently. The information he’d received had been accurate. There was nothing good about what was happening.

He followed the two girls, walking at a leisurely pace.

He wasn’t worried about losing them. He knew what car Gia drove, where she was parked at the airport, and where she lived.

He’d be where he needed to be and do what he needed to do.

This get-together would be brief—and hopefully bloodless.

Offices of Forensic Instincts

Main conference room

“Last night was a slam dunk. What an adrenaline rush.” Ryan was perched on the windowsill, looking out over the New York skyline as the last filaments of sunlight caressed it. “The rush that comes from solving a case never gets old, especially when it means putting a scumbag behind bars.” He tipped back his head and took a swallow of his beer, as usual opting out of FI’s traditional case-ending glass of champagne. Screw the cache. Blue Moon trumped Veuve Clicquot every time.

“We still have a ton of follow-up,” Casey reminded him. She was sitting at the head of the conference room table typing notes into her MacBook Pro while savoring her glass of champagne. “Although everything’s proceeding nicely. Hanover was taken in for questioning, CSI is doing its job, and the wheels of justice will soon be turning.”

“And Hero is a hero once again.” Claire set down her flute on the floor beside the beanbag chair she was sitting on and began stroking the top of the bloodhound’s head. “You’re brilliant, you’re loving, and you’re warm-hearted. You’re even gorgeous. Who could ask for a more fitting hero?”

Clearly, Hero liked the praise and the stroking, because he gave a contented grunt and rolled over to have his belly scratched.

“Hey, I’m all those things,” Ryan piped up. “Do I get that kind of attention, too?”

Claire bit back a smile as she looked at him. “No. You’re also arrogant and exasperating. Hero’s neither. You lose.”

“The jury’s out on that one,” Ryan muttered. But he wisely kept any further comments to himself. Another innuendo and he’d be taking a cold shower tonight—something he had no intention of doing.

Emma ignored them both, drinking her champagne with a mixture of satisfaction and happiness. “Seeing the relief on Brianna’s face made going back to school and sucking up to that pig worth it.” A quick glance at Casey. “I know I was being trained and tested. What’s the verdict?”

Casey stopped typing to give Emma a thumbs-up. “You were great. I’m really proud of you, Emma. You’ve come a long way in a short time. I’ll be counting on you more and more from this point on.”

Emma’s whole face lit up. “No more tests?”

“I didn’t say that,” Casey replied with total candor. “I test all of you at different points. It keeps everyone on their toes. And before you ask, yes, I test myself. Every day in every way. I’ll never take my leadership role at FI for granted. You guys deserve the best because you are the best. And if you ever remind me that I said that, I’ll deny every word and cut your salaries.”

“Yes, boss.” Emma zipped her fingers across her mouth in a my-lips-are-sealed gesture.

“I really like Brianna and Lina,” Claire said. “They’re great girls.”

“So do I,” Casey agreed. “And the feeling is mutual. They both asked if we could still hang out together—socially, since the investigation is now in the hands of the NYPD. Successful case, new friends. It’s a win-win all around.” She raised her flute. “Here’s to another coup for FI.”

They all raised their glasses, or, in Ryan’s case, his beer bottle.