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The door shut behind him.
“Oh, God,” Amanda whispered again. She turned away, her hands pressed to her cheeks, her head bowed in unspeakable pain. “My poor baby.” She was talking more to herself than to Casey and Patrick. “He’s so tiny. So tiny. How can he live through this? More tubes. More procedures. More apparatuses. He’s doesn’t even weigh ten pounds. How is it possible for him to win this fight?”
Casey didn’t care that the questions weren’t aimed at her. She answered them anyway.
“He will win this fight, Amanda,” she said, walking around so she could face her client. “The tube will work with the ventilator. Between the two, he’ll be breathing normally. The lung will heal. The tube will come out. And once the antibiotics do their job, he won’t need the ventilator anymore.”
Casey’s own lashes were damp, but she refused to show anything but calmness and certainty. Because that was what Amanda needed at that moment.
“Amanda, you’re so strong,” she continued. “So is Justin. He’s his mother’s son. He wants to live. The doctors are going to make sure that he does.”
“As are we,” Patrick inserted with a fervor that startled Casey. “We’ll find Paul Everett. We won’t give up until we do. All you have to do is hold on. I’m a newer member of Forensic Instincts. But I’ve seen what this team can do. I’ve helped them do it. Don’t lose faith.”
Amanda lowered her arms and pivoted slowly to gaze at Patrick. “You have children,” she stated with certainty.
“Three. Two daughters and a son. And I’d give my life for any one of them. I understand what you’re feeling. Helplessness is one of the hardest emotions to deal with as a parent. But you will deal with it. Because all that matters is Justin and the fact that he needs you.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right.” Amanda was trying to bolster herself with Patrick’s words. “Thank you. I’ll pull myself together. I have to.”
“I can stay here and wait with you,” Casey offered.
“No.” Amanda shook her head. “You go talk to your FBI friend. Find Paul. That’s the best thing you can do for me, and for Justin.”
“Go ahead, Casey,” Patrick said. “I’m here. And I think Amanda mentioned that her friend Melissa was coming by.”
“Yes, she is,” Amanda confirmed. “She’s stopping by right after she puts her kids on the bus. So she should be here soon. Between her and Patrick, I’ll have all the support I need.”
“Okay.” Casey squeezed her hands again. “I’m just a phone call away. And Patrick’s right. We’re going to find Paul.”
* * *
Behind the closed doors of his office, Lyle Fenton grabbed his cell phone as soon as he got word about the fire at Morano’s place. He didn’t have to wait for an investigation to know it was arson.
“Are you fucking crazy?” he demanded the instant his call was answered. “Don’t we have enough of a spotlight shining on us with the reopening of Paul Everett’s disappearance? Now you’re torching his successor’s office? Do you think the cops are idiots? They’re bound to tie the two together. Why the hell did you do this?”
“The son of a bitch wasn’t going to pay us anymore,” Franco Paccara snapped. Paccara was a union business manager—and a key member of the Vizzini family. “You’re worried about your ass. I’m worried about mine.”
“Well, you can stop worrying,” Fenton told him. “I pushed the permit applications through. You’ll be starting work on that massive construction job two months sooner than expected. So you and your crew will be making a hell of a lot more than the pocket change you’ve been extracting—and you’ll be doing it from outside a jail cell. Enough. Leave Morano alone.”
“He spit in our faces.”
“And you burned down his shack, his files, his computer, and everything else he had in there. He better have all his building files backed up on a flash drive or you screwed yourselves. Look, you probably scared the shit out of him. Fine. Threaten him throughout the entire project, for all I care. Just don’t do anything. I don’t want another Paul Everett on our hands.”
Silence.
Fenton went for the brass ring. “There’s a bonus in this if you agree to go along with me.”
That woke Paccara up. “How much?”
“How does a hundred thousand sound to you? Half now, half when construction is finished. Share some with your guys. Keep the rest for yourself.”
“Yeah, okay, fine. We’ll leave Morano alone—as long as he cooperates and doesn’t try to screw us over.”
“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. Count on it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Hutch was sitting at the counter in Casey’s kitchen, wearing only a pair of jeans, nursing a cup of coffee and working on his laptop, when Casey walked in.
