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“Not viable, huh?”
“Unfortunately not.” Hutch propped himself on his elbows and gazed down at her. “We’ve never come right out and said it, but you do know that what’s going on between us is about a lot more than sex, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course. That’s what’s going to make this conversation that much harder.”
“We’re worth fighting for, Casey. Whatever label you want to give our relationship, we both know it doesn’t happen every day. So, no matter how heated a debate we end up having, I’m not walking away. Not unless you ask me to.”
“I’m not stupid.” Casey traced his jaw with her fingertip. “I’m not going to end things over our careers. I’m just going to defend what I believe in.”
“Which is that the end justifies the means.”
“Within reason, yes. My goal here is to find Krissy Willis. I don’t give a damn about the right way to go about it. Any way I find her is the right way.”
Hutch rolled away and scooted to the edge of the bed. “I’m going to grab some water for this talk. You depleted all my reserves.”
Casey smiled. “Now that I doubt. But grab a bottle for me, too. I’m parched. Plus, I think we should have this conversation with our clothes on. Otherwise, we won’t talk at all.”
“Agreed.” Hutch yanked on his boxer briefs and pants, and headed for the kitchen. By the time he returned, Casey was belting her black silk robe and perching at the edge of the bed.
Hutch handed her a bottle of water and sat down in the armchair across from the bed. “Okay, we’re both decent and ready for verbal warfare.”
“Does it have to be warfare?” Casey asked. “I know we have different jobs and slightly different philosophies, but we both want the same results—ultimately.”
“Ultimately.”
“The good news is it’s very rare that we’re working on the same case. Even when the FBI and Forensic Instincts are both involved. Thankfully, this is my team’s first child kidnapping case. I’m hoping it will be our last. So you and I won’t be overlapping too often. Otherwise, we’d probably kill each other.”
Hutch took a swig of water. “Yeah, well, that’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m seriously considering applying for a transfer to BAU-2. They haven’t filled the opening Marc left when he resigned. I’d like to fill it. I’ve had about all I can stomach of crimes against children. It’s time for a change, something I can handle in the way I was trained. If I’m emotionally vested in a case, I can’t do an effective job.”
“So you’d be dealing with adult crimes.”
“’Fraid so.”
Casey blew out a breath. “Won’t that be enjoyable.”
“Like you said earlier, we have to set some ground rules,” Hutch said. “Starting with separating business from pleasure. It’s not going to be easy—assuming I get the job. You’re going to expect more of me than I’m able to give. Such as giving you a heads-up about information yet to be released to the public.”
“And you’re going to expect me to follow a certain path, and to report every discovery I make to the Bureau —to you. It’s not going to happen.”
“I hear you.” Hutch frowned, rolling the bottle of water between his palms. “I know what your job is. What I don’t know is why.”
“Why what?”
“Why you’re so fervent about your investigations. And I don’t mean professionally. I mean personally. You read people well. But so do I. Something happened that lit an emotional fire in your belly—enough to make you go out on your own and start Forensic Instincts. What was it?”
Casey was quiet for a minute. “You do read people well. Especially me. Okay, my team knows, so why shouldn’t you? Yes, there was something that changed my life, and probably my direction.” Another pause. “Do you remember how relentless I was about wrapping up the investigation my team took on right before this kidnapping?”
“The one with that psycho perv who raped and killed all those young women? Yeah, I remember. It was pretty gruesome. I also remember how single-minded you were about catching him. It went over and above the line of duty. That’s what got me started thinking along these lines.” Hutch studied Casey intently. “Why? Does that case hold special meaning for you?”
“Oh, yeah.” Casey blew out her breath. “When I was in college, I had a close friend. Holly. She lived off campus. One day, she told me she had the feeling she was being followed. I suggested she call the police. She did. They blew her off. A week later, she was found raped and murdered, her body tossed in a Dumpster. She’d been there for days, buried in piles of garbage. The bastard who did that to her was never found. I’ll never forget how I felt when I heard the news. It was like a horrible nightmare—one that will haunt me for life. It wasn’t the police’s fault. They had nothing to go on and no manpower to invest in an unsubstantiated complaint. What Holly needed was someone who was skilled enough to help, but not bound by bureaucracy and red tape. Someone with the mind and the resources to sift through suspects and come up with the right answer.”
“Someone like Forensic Instincts.”
“Exactly.”
Hutch’s jaw tightened. “I’m sorry you had to live through
an experience like that.”
