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“I’m sure that’s the case. The fact that you think so highly of him speaks volumes.”
If Fenton picked up on the ambiguity of Casey’s statement, he didn’t react. “I’m far from the only one. Cliff won his seat by a landslide. And he certainly didn’t need my help to do it.”
Casey nodded. Time to bring this interview to a close—for now. “Marc and I won’t keep you any longer, Mr. Fenton.” She rose, with Marc smoothly following suit. “We appreciate your time.”
Fenton came to his feet, visibly unsettled by the abrupt closure to a conversation that had steered way off course. “I’m not sure I helped.”
“You gave us some insight into Paul Everett. That’s all we expected. The rest of it—the heavy lifting—is our job.” Casey handed him a business card. “If you think of anything else, please give us a call, any time of the day or night. We’re working 24/7 to find Justin’s father.”
“With very little time to do it in,” Fenton amended, that genuine distress crossing his face again.
“We’re narrowing things down.” Marc sounded more threatening than he did reassuring. Some of it was the role he was playing, and some of it was pure Marc. “I told Amanda we’d find Everett, and we will—through whatever means necessary.”
Fenton met Marc’s hard stare, then wet his lips and glanced away. “I hope so. Amanda swears by you. And I’m aware of your reputation. This is one time I hope you earn it.”
* * *
Five minutes later, Casey and Marc were back in the van, heading up the serpentine drive toward the gates.
“What a scumbag,” Marc stated flatly. “He’s dirty in more ways than we can count.”
“No argument.” Casey waited for the gates to open, then steered onto the main road. “The only thing about him that’s genuine is his feeling for Justin. He’s worried. Enough so that if he were directly involved in Paul Everett’s disappearance, he wouldn’t leave it that way.”
“Don’t be too sure,” Marc muttered. “Fenton’s drive for self-preservation trumps everything. Even the baby’s life.”
“That’s exactly why he’d save the baby’s life,” Casey refuted. “Justin represents his legacy, which is the only thing he gives a damn about.”
“So you think he wants us to find Everett?”
“I didn’t say that. I think he wants to find Everett. I think he believed he was dead. I wouldn’t be surprised if he played a part in whatever happened. And if he is guilty of something, he’s probably frantic to find Paul before we do. That way, he can clean up whatever Paul has on him, and then make him disappear again, this time for good. Whether that means killing him or paying him off, I don’t know. There’s a menacing quality about that guy that tells me he’s capable of both.”
“Yeah. I think you should have let me beat the crap out of him. It would have made me feel a whole lot better.”
Casey understood Marc’s frustration. He rarely made comments like those—comments he would never act on. He was way too disciplined to opt for physical violence unless it made sense. In this case, it would only have resulted in FI getting fired and Marc getting arrested—all of which would have brought them no closer to finding Paul Everett.
“He flipped out when we got onto the topic of Mercer,” she commented.
“Ya think?” Marc frowned. “There’s definitely a connection there, and not just a political one. Although I’m sure having Fenton’s money in his coffers sweetened the deal for Mercer. But I’m glad Ryan’s running that facial recognition software. It should be interesting to see if we’re barking up the right tree.”
“You know we are, and so do I. There’s a blood connection here. How close a blood connection, and why it’s being kept a secret, are the questions we need answers to.”
“Okay, so we know Fenton’s freaked out about Mercer.” Marc’s eyebrows knit. “He’s also freaked out about Morano. Why him more than Everett—especially if he’s involved in Everett’s disappearance?”
“Maybe because he had rehearsed his entire speech about Everett and he wasn’t expecting us to get into Morano.” Casey continued driving toward Westhampton Beach, where they’d collect Marc’s stuff and head back to the city. “Fenton was like an actor on the stage, and not a particularly good one. First, he tried to intimidate us with his wealth and his demeanor—right down to the custom-tailored suit he opted not to change out of before our visit.”
“Yeah, I noticed that. Pretty transparent. N
obody stays in a monkey suit a minute longer than necessary. You’d think that a couple of hours after getting home, he’d be in casual clothes.”
“You would indeed. Now let’s get to Paul. Fenton ran through his litany about Paul like a memorized script. He didn’t lose footing until we touched on the mob. That struck a nerve. So did our curiosity over what Morano did to tip the scales in his favor. Fenton was definitely thrown by that. Why? Are he and Morano proverbially in bed together?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Marc replied. “On the other hand, who’s Morano paying off? Who was Paul paying off? Fenton would be my first guess.”
“In which case, they’re both in this, but on opposite sides.”
“Yup. I told you how staged Morano was during our interview today. Maybe afterward he clued Fenton in on the interview—and the fact that ‘Robert Curtis’ had asked about Everett. Maybe he was nervous that Crain’s business magazine might decide to take the article a step further and talk to others involved in the project.”
“Which would explain why Fenton was so scripted about Paul Everett.”
