Claire shugged. “I have no idea. That’s not what I meant. I just meant I had a sense that he was glad to help, even if he wasn’t too happy about the reasons why.”
“What else did you pick up on?”
“A slew of conflicting emotions. When I shook his hand, my palm was actually burning. He was nervous, worried, resigned, caring in an ambiguous way and trapped in a tangled web, partially of his making.” Claire chewed her lip thoughtfully. “There’s no doubt that he’s in Fenton’s pocket, or that he has a personal tie to Fenton. A strong personal tie, which would go along with Ryan’s determination that he’s Fenton’s son. But the real ugliness I picked up on was from Fenton. He’s one cold, single-minded man.”
“Capable of murder?” Marc asked.
Claire blew out a breath. “I can’t answer that. Everyone’s capable of murder. But has he committed one? I don’t know. All I can sense is how guilty he feels, which is not at all. If he committed a crime but feels no regret, there’s less explicit energy for me to pick up on. But negative energy? That’s there in abundance. And, for the record, Hero didn’t like him much, either. He barely glanced at Fenton when he walked over to Mercer in the parking lot. On the other hand, he sniffed Mercer out thoroughly. No negative reaction there. Just a good memorization.”
“I’d have to agree with Claire’s assessment,” Marc said. “Mercer’s smooth. But I don’t see an evil guy. I’m sure he’s way deep into Daddy’s pocket. But that’s not our problem. Paul Everett is our problem. And I just don’t see Mercer having anything to do with his disappearance-at least not directly.”
“Nor do I.” Casey frowned. “But we’re missing something here. I just don’t know what. And without figuring out what that something is, we’re not going to find Paul Everett.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ryan came upstairs the minute he heard the team’s voices in the front hallway.
“Anything?” he asked, squatting down to roughhouse with Hero.
“Yes and no.” Casey filled him in on what happened at the hospital and on the surprise phone call and meeting with Detective Jones.
“We’re worrying the cops.” Ryan rose, a speculative expression on his face. “That’s interesting. Especially since I can’t find a damned thing on Everett that doesn’t make him sound like a Boy Scout-other than those periodic bank withdrawals. Same thing with Morano. But, clearly something exists. So I say we use the little critter to check out Morano’s office. It’s time to figure out what’s going on-who he meets with, what his relationships are with his contractors, and who might be extorting twenty grand from him every six weeks.”
“Ah, Gecko.” Casey grinned. “I was wondering when you might use him.”
“The little critter” as Ryan affectionately dubbed him-or “Gecko” to the rest of the team-was one of Ryan’s most prized robotic creations. It looked a little odd, but what it lacked in appearance, it made up for in versatility and talent.
Gecko had suction-cup-like attachments on his feet and was small enough-not quite the size of a paperback book-and technologically sophisticated enough to walk up walls and inside ductwork. It sported miniature video cameras and microphones, and Ryan could manipulate it in any one of a dozen ways, including around corners.
All he had to do was get access to Morano’s office and plant Gecko in an air duct or drop ceiling, then watch and listen from his laptop.
Breaking into an old, one-story wooden dump would be a piece of cake for Marc. He and Ryan would drive to Morano’s place at night, Ryan would park the van a safe distance away, and Marc would do his thing. After that, they’d have front row seats to Morano, any visitors he might entertain and any phone calls he decided to make.
It was the perfect idea.
“We’ll go late tonight,” Marc said as if reading Ryan’s mind. “Another road trip. I feel like I’m on autopilot to the Hamptons.”
“I’ll drive,” Ryan said. “And we’ll stay over at Amanda’s. That way, we can make one more trip to Morano’s office in the morning. We’ll slap a GPS tracking device under his car. Then we’ll know where he is at all times. The guy’s entire life will be an open book.” Ryan glanced at Casey. “That okay, boss? You’re going to be busy anyway.”
Casey shot him a look. “And you know this how?”
Ryan jerked his thumb upward. “You’ve got a guest crashing on your bed. He got in early and tired. But he promised to be refreshed by dinner. So my guess is you’ll be occupied all night. It’s been how long since the two of you saw each other?”
“Careful, Ryan.” Casey’s tone was firm, but her lips twitched. “Keep heading in this direction and I’ll start spewing what I know about your love life. And it’s a lot more interesting than mine. Not to mention the secret crush you have…”
“Okay, okay,” Ryan interrupted. “My mouth is shut.”
“Now that’s a first,” Claire commented, looking and sounding a bit thrown by Casey’s comment. It had clearly never occurred to her that the team was aware of the whatever-it-was that hovered beneath the sharp banter between her and Ryan. She wasn’t even ready to analyze it herself. “I’ve never seen you at a loss for words.”
“I never am.” Ryan shot her a lazy grin. “I just know when it’s time to talk and when it’s not.”
Claire flushed, quickly changing the subject. “What’s happening at Patrick’s end?”
“He called in a while ago,” Ryan replied, visibly enjoying watching Claire squirm. “He’s seeing what he can do about figuring out who’s following us. Then he’s going home to spend some time with his wife. He’s barely seen her since we took on this case.”
“I think we can all use a few hours off,” Claire said with a meaningful look at Ryan and Marc. “Let’s grab something to eat. Then you two can catch some rest before you head back to the Hamptons, and I can go home and do some yoga. Some of my best insights come to me during that time.”
“We could order in, if you want,” Ryan suggested. “Hero can’t go into restaurants.”
“No. We can’t order in.” Claire’s tone and look were so pointed this time that Ryan would have had to be dead not to notice them. “Hero’s exhausted from his day. See? He’s already sleeping on his favorite blanket. I doubt he’ll even venture upstairs.”
“Oh. Gotcha.” A quick glance at Casey. “We’ll catch you later.”
Casey was trying hard not to laugh. “For a team of very discreet investigators, you were about as subtle as the Keystone Cops. But thanks. I appreciate the privacy.”
Hutch had a towel wrapped around his waist and was briskly drying his hair with another when Casey walked into her bedroom.
“Wow,” she said, leaning against the wall. “Is this an early Christmas present?”
He looked up, tossing the towel he was holding aside and giving her that lazy, crooked smile that got to her every time. “It’s just the gift wrap. Wanna see what’s inside?”
“Sure.” She crossed over to him, unknotting the towel from around his waist and letting it drop to the floor. “Very nice,” she murmured, gliding her hands up his chest to wrap her arms around his neck. “You have excellent taste in gifts. How did you know what I wanted?”
“I guessed.” Hutch stopped talking. He lifted Casey up and pressed her flush against him. His mouth crushed down on hers and she wrapped her legs around his waist, kissing him back with the same heated intensity.
They toppled onto the bed, and he had her naked and under him in record time.
It was always the same. The first time was frantic, filled with the built-up sexual tension of being apart for weeks, sometimes months. Long, drawn-out lovemaking would come later, but right now, it was a wild rush for completion.
Casey tried to delay her climax, but she couldn’t. It boiled up inside her the minute Hutch penetrated her body, and by his second thrust, she was crying out, arching to take him deep inside her as her spasms pulsed around him.
