The Line Between Here and Now

“She’s a psychic.”

“Yes, I am,” Claire confirmed. “I pick up on all kinds of energy, good and bad.”

“Bad energy isn’t admissible in court,” Fenton mocked her.

“I wasn’t planning on testifying. Why? Should I be?”

Marc bit back a smile. He’d never seen this side of Claire. She was damned good.

“Stop dancing around the issue.” Fenton planted his palms flat on his desk. “I know what happened tonight. My guard at the marina regained consciousness. Nice of you to pull the gag out of his mouth so he didn’t choke, and loosen the ropes so he could free himself. The minute he did, he took off after you. Of course, you were already gone. But he called me on the spot. And he described you and your dog to a tee.”

“Yet you didn’t call the police.” Marc looked thoughtful. “Interesting. If my property had been broken into, I’d be on the phone with the cops. Then again, I’m not a criminal scumbag like you.”

Without so much as a pause, Marc tapped Claire’s shoulder and pointed to the marble-framed photograph on the wall. “That’s the ship I was telling you about,” he said conversationally. “Big Money. Impressive, isn’t it? It travels to Fenton’s dock in Bayonne on a regular basis, retrieving containers as it goes. And it lives up to its name. It rakes in huge money-doesn’t it, Fenton?”

Fenton wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. “My entire company is successful.”

“I’m sure it is. Transporting illegal cargo really rakes in the cash.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, but I do. It’s a sweet deal. Your fleet is out there dredging anyway. Why not help out the mob and reap some extra profits at the same time?” Marc took a few menacing steps forward, his sarcastic tone turning cold as steel. “Did you plan on doing the same thing with your ferry service to the new hotel? Is that the deal you made with the mob? To take along their stash of guns or drugs while you transported tourists to the luxury resort? Is that why it took you so long to sign those contracts with Morano-because you were working out the specifics with the mob while they blackmailed him in the meantime?”

Fenton had gone sheet-white.

“It backfired, didn’t it? When Morano couldn’t afford his blackmailers anymore, they burned down his office. People could have been killed. I bet you didn’t plan on adding murder to your list of crimes, now, did you?”

“I’m not listening to another word,” Fenton barked. “You don’t have a shred of proof to back up any of these outrageous charges.”

“Fortunately, I don’t need any.” Marc’s tone was now low, threatening. “My job is not to bring you to justice, much as I’d love to. I work for Forensic Instincts, not law enforcement. My job is to find Paul Everett. As it turns out, he was on your private yacht, Lady Luck, right before he disappeared. And that I do have proof of. Solid, admissible proof.” Marc stretched the truth-and it worked.

“So you were on my yacht,” Fenton burst out. “You admit it.”

“Why? Because I know her name? Public record, Fenton.” Marc leaned over the desk, his eyes ablaze, his stance ominous. “Are you denying that Everett was there?”

Fenton shrank back. Marc was more than a little scary when he looked like this. “No, I’m not denying it. We had a business meeting there.”

“One you never mentioned?”

“Why would I mention it? You asked if Everett and I were business colleagues. We were. We had several meetings. One of them was on my yacht. Last I checked, that wasn’t a crime.”

“Did Everett figure out what you were up to? Is that why he conveniently disappeared? Was it your call or was it the mob’s?”

Fenton’s pupils dilated, and his jaw literally dropped. “You think I killed Paul Everett?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe you just made sure he was somewhere else, out of the way.”

Fenton was starting to sweat profusely. “My niece’s child-my great-nephew-is dying. His father is the only real hope he has. Do you honestly think I’d take away his best chance to live?”

“Justin wasn’t born when Paul Everett vanished,” Claire reminded him. “So it might have been too late when you realized how vitally important Paul Everett was to his son’s life.” She pursed her lips. “Very dark energy, Mr. Fenton. Very dark, and very ugly. You’re a despicable man.”

Fenton raked both hands through his hair. “This is insane. I didn’t kill anyone. And I didn’t stash Paul Everett away. I don’t know what happened to him or who’s responsible. But it wasn’t me.”

That spurred Marc into action.

He grabbed Fenton by the lapels, dragged him forward. “What did Everett find when he was on your boat? Did he overhear a conversation? Did he put together the pieces? Or did he find something concrete-like the containers themselves? Tell me, you son of a bitch, or I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

Fenton struggled to free himself. But Marc’s grip was unbreakable.

“Let go of me,” Fenton commanded.

“I’m just getting started. Now it’s only your designer suit that’s in danger of being torn apart. In a few minutes, it’ll be a whole lot more. Now talk.” Marc shook him hard. “What happened when Everett was on your boat?”

“Nothing.” Fenton was starting to get scared. The expression on Marc’s face was lethal. “We talked about the hotel. We talked about Amanda.”

“How touching. I’m sure he confided his innermost feelings to you.” Marc’s grip tightened again, and he yanked Fenton forward until he was halfway across the desk. “That’s a bunch of bullshit. You didn’t discuss Everett’s social life. He spent the time trying to convince you to sign onto his hotel project. And you kept him at arm’s length-for the same reason you were doing it with Morano. How much in kickbacks did you get from the twenty grand they each paid the mob every six weeks?”

“Nothing. I didn’t know…”

Marc was around the desk in a microsecond. He pinned Fenton to the wall, digging his elbow into his throat, keeping the threat real. “Yes, you did. You knew everything. Just like you profited from everything. Now, am I going to do some serious damage to your body, or are you going to answer me?”

Fenton gazed past Marc, giving Claire a frightened look. “Are you going to just stand there and let this barbarian physically assault me?”

“Hmm.” Claire pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Yes,” she replied. “I am.”

“I’m not admitting to anything,” Fenton gasped as the pressure of Marc’s elbow intensified. “Nothing except the business meeting on my yacht. But I swear I didn’t have anything to do with Paul Everett’s disappearance.”

“Who did?”

“I don’t know. You don’t ask certain people those kinds of questions.”

“I’ll bet you don’t.” Marc lifted Fenton by the throat and threw him down to the floor, discarding him like a piece of trash. “I’d love to kick the crap out of you. But it doesn’t suit my purposes-not right now. Right now, all I care about is finding Paul Everett. And you don’t know shit about his whereabouts. But you’re going to find out. You’re going to dig as deep as you have to, ask the scariest people you know. And, if you’re lucky, they’ll have my answers.”

Fenton stared up at Marc, his forehead drenched in sweat. He made no move to stand up. “Do you know what they’ll do to me if I accuse them, or even press them for answers?”

“Do you know what I’ll do to you if you don’t?” Marc loomed over Fenton, eyes blazing like fire. “Uncle Sam trained me well. I can kill you anytime I want to-no matter where you are or who’s protecting you. Do you know what a SEAL is capable of? Bin Laden never stood a chance. Which means you sure as hell don’t. Get me information. Tonight. Then I might show you some mercy by only breaking body parts you never knew you had. And afterward, just for laughs, I’ll make an anonymous call to the cops and get you thrown into jail for smuggling-plus a whole list of other crimes you don’t even know I’m aware of. I may not be law enforcement now, but I was once FBI. One phone call from me, and they’ll take care of the rest.”

With that, Marc turned and headed for the door, gesturing for Claire to join him. “I’ll be in touch in the morning, Fenton. Make sure you have answers.”

* * *

“Okay, you’re officially terrifying,” Claire commented as they headed toward the van.

“And you are a whole lot tougher than I realized.” Marc snapped off a salute. “I’m