“Would it be easier to meet outside the office?” she asked, intentionally letting him know it would be closer to his troop. “I assume you’re located in Suffolk County.”
“Yes, in Farmingdale.”
“Republic Airport?” Casey asked, specifying the headquarters of Troop L, which handled all of Nassau and Suffolk Counties.
“That’s right.”
“There’s a Starbucks nearby. Why don’t we meet there at…” She glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. It was almost noon. “One-fifteen?”
“That would be fine.”
“See you then.”
The doorbell at the FI brownstone rang.
It struck Ryan that it had probably rung a bunch of times before it registered with him. He’d been staring at the computer screen, lost in his own world. But the insistence of the rings told him someone had been standing on the doorstep for quite a while.
He glanced up at the monitor above his desk and focused on the center window, which displayed the live feed from the video surveillance camera that protected the front door. A tall guy, whose powerful build and authoritative presence dominated the camera lens, stood outside. Ryan’s brows arched in surprise, and he rose, heading upstairs to the main level.
“Hang on,” he called out. “I’m coming.”
He punched the code on the Hirsch pad and opened the door. “Hey,” he greeted Hutch, gripping his hand in a guy-to-guy handshake. “What’s this-a surprise visit?”
“Nope.” Hutch walked in and dropped his bag on the floor. “Just a surprise arrival time. My flight got in early.”
“Good afternoon, Hutch,” Yoda chimed in. “Your body temperature is low. A coat is required in winter weather. You must not be wearing one. A cup of tea will restore your body temperature to a normal 98.6.”
“Thanks, Yoda,” Hutch responded. “I’ll take a hot shower instead.”
“A satisfactory cure.”
“What do you mean this isn’t a surprise visit?” Ryan interrupted. “Casey knew you were coming?”
“Yup. Since yesterday.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Nobody tells me anything.”
“I wouldn’t take it personally.” Hutch gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Considering how wound up Casey sounded when I talked to her on the phone, I’m guessing she’s obsessing over the case you’re working on. It sounds like a real house of cards.”
Again, Ryan’s brows rose. Casey was a stickler for not discussing ongoing cases, not even with Hutch. “She told you about it?”
“Not a chance. I just heard that intense note in her voice. So I looked up FI on Google just before I jumped on the plane to see if there was any new media buzzing around your company. And I found that YouTube video. Doesn’t sound like the kind of advertising you normally do. I’m guessing it was your client’s idea?”
“Oh, yeah. It came at us out of left field. Just ask Yoda. He woke me up right after I’d pulled an all-nighter. Our client almost fried my communications server.”
“That’s correct,” Yoda supplied.
“Anyway, it’s under control now. If you check out the video, you’ll see a change in contact info. Casey saw to that in a New York minute.”
“I’m sure she did.” Hutch’s lips twisted into a crooked grin-the only thing that ever softened his hard features. He looked every bit like the D.C. cop he’d been before joining the Bureau, right down to the jagged scar across his left temple. Despite his dry sense of humor, he was self-contained in a way that made most people squirm. He had a way of staring people down and waiting them out, staying silent until they felt compelled to speak. It was an asset in his professional life, and it spilled over into his personal life.
Hutch was very much an enigma. He kept his emotions in check and revealed very little of himself to others.
Casey was the exception to that rule.
“After Casey twisted your client’s arm to get FI’s name and number off that video, did she also ream her out?” Hutch asked.
Ryan shook his head. “She and I were too ripping pissed to deal with Amanda. Casey sent Marc over to the hospital to handle things. He has some magical, soothing effect on our client. She holds on to him like a life preserver.”
“That shouldn’t surprise you. Between that solid, calming way of Marc’s and his feelings about little ones with their lives on the line-he’d be your go-to guy with this client.”
“Yeah, I know.” Ryan stretched, getting the kinks out of his body. “I wish I could get into more detail with you. This case is really gut-wrenching.”
“Aren’t they all?”
“Some more than others.”
“I hear you.” Hutch’s sharp blue eyes swept the area. “I take it Casey’s not here.”
“Nope. Just me and my to-do list. Casey’s out working the case with Marc, Claire and Hero, and Patrick’s pounding the pavement. What time is she expecting you?”
“We have a dinner date. Till then, I’m on my own. Which is fine with me, because I’m beat. I slept a little on the plane, but not enough to make a difference. I think I’m going to crash in Casey’s room, and then take that shower so I can be human when she gets home.”
“Good plan. I’m taking a break myself. I’ll be heading over to the gym. I need a two-hour workout to get my brain in gear-but I’ll settle for one. The fallout from Yoda’s phone call robbed me of that second hour.”
“An unfortunate necessity, Ryan,” Yoda said. “I apologize.”
“No apology necessary, Yoda. You did the right thing. Then again, I programmed you.”
“Again, that’s correct.”
“In any case,” Ryan told Hutch. “My brain is on overload. Time to pump some iron.”
Hutch nodded. Everyone knew what a gym rat Ryan was. Hutch just found it amazing that his full-scale workouts plus his eight hours of sleep a night left him time to be as productive as he was. But the guy managed to do it all, and do it better than any technology pro Hutch had ever seen in action.
“You need my key?” Ryan asked. “You’ll either have to go out for food or get something delivered. I doubt Casey has much in her fridge.”
“Nah. I’d rather sleep. I’ll make up for the lack of food at dinner.” Hutch picked up his overnight bag, yawning as he did. “Oh, and Yoda? I promise to use warm blankets. My body temp will rise in no time.”
“Very good, Hutch.”
Hutch headed for the stairs. “Enjoy your workout,” he called over his shoulder to Ryan. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
The two men met in a private office. Neither of them was happy.
“Have you seen the video?” The stockier of the two wasted no time on small talk.
“Yeah, I’ve seen it” was the equally terse reply.
“We’ve got a problem.”
“I know. A big one.”
“We need to have that video blocked. We can’t risk him seeing it.”
“That’s no problem. He won’t. But the rest of the world already has. Someone’s going to say something to him. It’s just a matter of time-and probably not a lot of it.”
“Have him isolated,” was the order. “And fast. It’s the only way.”
