The Line Between Here and Now

“Of course.” Amanda stepped back, dashing away her tears. “I’m sorry. I just still can’t believe that you’re here. That you’re alive. That you’re real. That you didn’t intentionally stay away.”

“I didn’t,” Paul stated fervently. “If you believe nothing else, believe that. I have so much to fill you in on. But later. After I’ve done everything I can for Justin.”

Amanda took Paul by the hand. “Come on. Come meet your son.”

* * *

As they disappeared down the hall, Casey turned to Marc. “Everything’s in place,” she murmured. “The FBI delivered, as promised. Now it’s our turn. Go ahead and take care of what we discussed.”

Marc nodded. “With pleasure.” He sauntered off, leaving the PICU and taking the elevator to the hospital lobby.

He’d already selected the deserted spot in the alleyway where he was going to make his phone call. And, in his pocket, he already had what he needed: the spare burner phone he used for just these types of occasions, along with a voice scrambler.

Calling the FBI tip line was going to be Marc’s pleasure. The information he provided would take care of Lyle Fenton and his mob buddies.

With a grin, Marc set the scrambler in place.

Damn, he loved his job.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Hutch and Mike took off to report in. But the FI team stayed on, hanging out in the waiting room to hear the results of Paul and Amanda’s conversation with Dr. Braeburn.

“I really am good,” Claire announced.

Ryan did a double take and stared at her. “Did I just hear my voice come out of your mouth?”

“Nope. That voice you heard, along with the words, were mine. Everything I sensed was accurate. The binary energy? Paul’s double life. The running? Not just Paul’s disappearance, but the marathon that made it necessary. The covert phone calls I kept picking up on the other side of Paul’s bedroom? His undercover work. And the sense of being followed? Mostly, the FBI. The times when I sensed danger? Fenton, keeping tabs on our search for Paul.” Claire eyed Ryan victoriously, like the cat who swallowed the canary. “You can’t argue with success.”

Patrick gave an exaggerated groan. “God, I think he’s rubbing off on her.”

An interesting choice of words, Casey thought.

Quickly, she glanced at Claire, then Ryan. She watched Claire avert her gaze, her cheeks tinged with pink. And she saw Ryan, who would customarily be delivering one barb after the next, remaining uncharacteristically silent, an odd expression crossing his face.

These two had so slept together, it wasn’t funny.

“You know, Patrick, I think you’re right,” Casey said. “They’re definitely rubbing off on each other. So tell us, guys, when did this start?”

Claire blanched. “What?”

“This sudden self-confidence that smacks of Ryan-only a tad less arrogant.” Casey was the picture of innocence. “When did it start?”

“I’m just acknowledging how right-on my awareness was this time,” Claire said, recovering herself. “I’m pleased that I was connecting. That doesn’t mean I’m professing to be a world-class genius, as do others we know.”

“Like you, I only speak the truth.” Ryan had clearly regained his composure, as well. It was business as usual.

“I speak it. You flaunt it-and exaggerate it,” Claire corrected him.

“Nah. Gecko and I were definitely the heroes of the day.” Ryan grinned. “Although you didn’t do too badly. I don’t begrudge you a few self-congratulations.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Acknowledgment, Ryan. Not self-congratulations. I didn’t win the lottery. I helped locate a man who’s desperate to save his child. I did my job.”

“Yes, you did,” Casey said quietly, bringing the conversation around to the grave situation at hand. “We all did. But it’s not enough.” She lowered her gaze for a moment, then looked up to regard her team soberly. “Technically, our jobs are over. But they’re really not, are they?”

The rest of the team grew equally sober.

“No, they’re not.” Patrick answered for all of them. “And they won’t be until this crisis comes to a successful conclusion. We’re professionals-damned good ones. But we’re also human. We care. We’re emotionally invested in this case. That’s one of the things I most admire about working with this team.”

“Ditto,” Ryan said.

“We’re not even close to being out of the woods.” Claire made the statement with a faraway look in her eyes. “I don’t understand all the medical jargon. But it’s complicated. And it will be a long road till it’s over.”

“And when it is?” Casey asked. “What will the outcome be?”

A frustrated shrug. “I wish I knew. The energy I’m picking up on is overwhelmingly emotional-on so many levels-and it’s coming at me from all sides.”

Marc rejoined the group at that moment. Briefly, he met Casey’s gaze and gave her a quick nod. The call had been made, the wheels set in motion. As they spoke, FBI agents would be descending on Fenton’s home, his New York offices and his maritime operations in Bayonne. And that was just the start. The dominos would begin to fall, one by one. And, by the time they’d all crashed down, the Bureau’s interviewing rooms would be as full as the AUSA’s docket.

Casey nodded back.

“I ran into Hutch in the lobby,” Marc informed the team. “Evidently, he and Mike put the necessary items in Paul’s bag to help disguise his identity. Since he’ll be at the hospital for at least three days-more, if he’s a donor match, he needs to be unrecognizable. That was part of the deal. This way, he can move freely to the lab for blood and diagnostic tests, and stay in the PICU with Amanda and Justin without worrying about anyone spotting him.”

“He won’t be leaving Sloane Kettering,” Claire responded. “Not for a long time. Whether or not he’s a match, he won’t leave Amanda’s and Justin’s sides. Not after all they’ve been through to become a family. He’ll be here to see Justin through this crisis. Damn the Bureau.”

* * *

Standing with Amanda outside Justin’s window, Paul was thinking exactly that. Right now, everything he cared about was right in front of him. He saw all the apparatus, all the tubes helping Justin with his struggle to survive. But he also saw his son. His son. Amanda was right. He could see himself in the tiny person whose eyes would occasionally open as if he was somehow aware that someone new had been added to his life.

Paul could actually feel his chest constrict. The emotion, the fierce sense of protectiveness, the entire feeling that seized him was indescribable. And, in that moment, he knew he’d move heaven and earth to make sure his son lived a healthy, normal life.

While they waited for Dr. Braeburn, Paul filled Amanda in on his real name, his job with the FBI and the fact that he was involved in a deep undercover operation throughout their time together. He couldn’t share the details. Nor did they matter. All that mattered now was Justin.

Dr. Braeburn came out of his office and approached Paul and Amanda. He’d already explained all the specifics to Paul, starting with the preparation Paul would undergo for the four days prior to the transplant. Then came the day itself. The apheresis-the actual technology during which Paul’s blood would pass through an apparatus, collecting and separating out the cells necessary for the transplant and returning the remaining blood to his