The Line Between Here and Now

“Stop.” Claire’s interjection was sharp. “I’m sorry to cut you off. But something’s wrong.”

“Wrong? You mean with the baby?”

“No. I mean with you. That feeling I had. It’s back. Casey, someone’s watching you.” A pause. “Where are you?”

“In the car.”

“Then he’s following you. He’s wearing black. I can’t see his face, just a shadowy form. But his energy is dark. Lock your doors. And don’t drive anywhere remote. Stay in traffic.”

“No worries there,” Casey said drily, searching her rearview mirror for a suspicious-looking vehicle. “I’m in Manhattan. I’m stopping at Sloane Kettering and then driving out to the Hamptons. That’s about as remote as Times Square on New Year’s Eve.” She shifted in her seat. Despite her flippant attitude, she wasn’t happy. “Is he armed?”

“I don’t know.” Claire sounded terribly unnerved. “But he’s only going to follow us and Amanda for so long before he does something. And whatever that something is-it’s ominous. He’s ominous.”

“I hear you.” Casey wished she could figure out which car in the converging traffic was the one. “I’ll make sure I’m not alone. I won’t park in the hospital garage…I’d have to walk through that connecting tunnel to get to the building. I’ll drive to one of the lots on Sixty-ninth between First and Second. That way, I can drop the car off up front and walk, blending in with the crowd. It’s the end of the workday. Everyone will be rushing out of their offices to head for home. I’ll just be another rat in the rat race.”

“Do that. I don’t have a good feeling about that tunnel. You wouldn’t be safe. The hospital’s being watched, too.” Claire pressed her fingers to her temples. “My head is pounding. There’s too much happening at once. And none of it’s good.”

“The baby, too?” Casey asked quickly.

A heartbeat of a pause. “Get to Amanda,” Claire replied, her voice low and tense. “She needs you.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Casey nearly ran from the parking garage to the hospital building. She reached the Pediatric Blood Marrow Transplant Unit in minutes. It was quiet…too quiet. Not just the kind of quiet that went along with the gravity of the unit. The kind that made Casey know that something was wrong.

She stopped the first nurse who passed by.

“Is Amanda Gleason here? I believe she’s with her son, Justin.”

“And you are?” the nurse inquired.

“A friend. My name is Casey Woods. You’re welcome to clear me with Amanda.”

“She’s not here, Ms. Woods. She’s with Justin in the Pediatric ICU. That’s all I can tell you.”

Oh, God, Casey thought silently. “Where is that located?”

The nurse gave her directions. “But you won’t be allowed in.”

“I know that. I’ll just get a message to Amanda that I’m here.”

Casey took off again, arriving at the Pediatric ICU tense and out of breath. She spoke to the first hospital attendant she saw, who obviously got a message to Amanda, because she came out and met Casey in the waiting area a few minutes later. She moved robotically, her posture stiff, her face sheet-white and lined with worry.

“What happened?” Casey asked without preamble.

“The bronchoscopy results came back,” Amanda replied in a wooden tone. “They showed that Justin has bacterial pneumonia. That’s in addition to the parainfluenza pneumonia. Dr. Braeburn put him on a ventilator. His breathing is so labored, Casey.” Amanda’s voice broke, tears sliding down her cheeks. “We’re at a crossroads I can’t face. Because if the antibiotics don’t work… If the ventilator isn’t enough…”

“Don’t talk that way,” Casey interrupted. “Don’t even think that way.”

“How can I not?” Amanda turned her palms up in a helpless gesture. “The doctor all but told me we’d better find a donor. Urgently.”

“We’re going to find Paul.” Casey didn’t miss a beat. “I told you we would and we will. Marc is questioning people at Simon’s Beach Bakery, and Patrick’s on his way back from D.C. with information that sounded significant. In the interim, Justin’s a fighter-you said so yourself. He’ll hang on.” He has to, she thought silently.

Amanda’s nod was dubious. “I have to get back inside. The nurse said you needed to see me.”

“I do.” Casey began her diplomatic mission. “We’ve been talking to everyone who dealt with Paul, even casually. We need to talk to your uncle.”

“My uncle?” Amanda blinked. “Why? He barely knew Paul. And if he had any information on him, he would have told me the instant Justin was diagnosed.”

“I’m sure he would have. But it’s our experience that people sometimes have information they don’t realize they have. It’s possible your uncle picked up something from Paul in a conversation or a business meeting that seemed so insignificant he forgot all about it.”

“And you think you might be able to jostle his memory.” Amanda sounded more thoughtful than she did suspicious. Then again, she’d have no reason to believe Casey was being anything other than straightforward. “I doubt it will work. Uncle Lyle has a steel-trap memory. On the other hand, he believed Paul was dead-which would eliminate him from my uncle’s thought process altogether. So I guess it’s worth a try.”

Casey jumped right on that. “Given Justin’s health, we shouldn’t waste a minute. I want to drive out to the Hamptons, pick Marc up and head over to your uncle’s East Hampton estate so we can talk to him tonight. Do you think he’d agree to that?”

“Of course-if he’s home.” Amanda frowned. “I don’t know his schedule. He might be anywhere, even Manhattan.” She took out her cell phone and turned it on. “Let me find out before you waste a long drive.”

Casey waited while Amanda made the call. It took a few minutes with several pauses before she got an answer and turned off her phone.

“I spoke to Frances, his housekeeper,” she explained to Casey. “Apparently, my uncle was in Washington, D.C., today. But he’ll be back tonight. Frances contacted him and he said you and Marc should come by around eight o’clock. Does that work for you?”

“We’ll make it work.” Casey squeezed Amanda’s hand. “Go back in to Justin. But don’t lose faith.”

“I’m trying. It gets harder with every hour and every setback.” Amanda pressed her lips together. “Go. If my uncle can help you, he will.”

Oh, he will all right, Casey thought. More than he realizes.

* * *

Amanda watched Casey walk away, battling the white panic that was building up inside her, eclipsing all else. Forensic Instincts was talking to her uncle. To them, that was a step in the right direction. To her, it was grasping at straws. Even if Uncle Lyle remembered something crucial about Paul-which she doubted he would-how long would it take to get concrete results and find Paul? Weeks? Longer?

Justin might only have days.

It was time for her to grasp at her own straws.

She’d nixed the idea when Melissa had first suggested it, when she’d urged Amanda not to put all her eggs in one basket. But now Justin was worse. Amanda was beyond desperate. And the idea was promising. She had the contacts. Melissa would make all the arrangements.

There was no need to mention it to the Forensic Instincts team-not until it was a fait accompli. It would sidetrack them from their current path and it would piss them off, neither of which would work to her advantage. All she wanted to do was to expand the number of people looking for Paul. And maybe, just maybe, the right someone-the someone who’d seen Paul-was out there and would respond.

She had to try.