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“Hey.” He took one look at her, then got up and poured her a cup of coffee. “Here,” he said gently, pressing the cup into her hands. “You look like you need this.”
“More than you know.” She took a deep swallow, then placed the mug on the counter. “Thank you… I…”
In an uncharacteristic emotional meltdown, Casey walked straight into Hutch?
?s arms, pressing her face against his bare chest and winding her arms around his waist. “Watching this…seeing it firsthand…I don’t think I could go through what Amanda is,” Casey admitted in a watery voice. “Between this—and our last case—I doubt I’ll be having kids, ever.”
Hutch put down his own cup and wrapped his arms around her. “These cases are the toughest.” He pressed his lips into her hair. “I know. That’s why I transferred.”
She nodded against his skin. “I know you do. And I know you managed to compartmentalize it. I usually do, too.”
“I didn’t compartmentalize…I internalized,” Hutch corrected. “And it never got easier.”
Casey drew a deep, shaky breath. “I’m sorry I’m acting so weak and infantile. It’s completely unlike me. I’m just…”
“Human?” Hutch finished for her. “Sweetheart, you don’t always have to be the formidable president of Forensic Instincts. Sometimes you can just be Casey—at least with me.” His palms slid up and down her spine in a soothing gesture. “I think we’ve come at least that far, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Casey conceded.
Their relationship was complicated—intense, passionate, meaningful, but long-distance. Two strong-willed, independent people with equally consuming careers. They never talked about a future, never even put a label on what they had. It was better that way.
Still, there was no denying how close they’d grown.
“Tell me what happened at the hospital,” Hutch urged. “Is the baby worse?”
“Yes. Maybe. I’m not sure.”
Casey stepped out of Hutch’s embrace, blinked away her tears and picked up her cup of coffee. “The monitors in the PICU went off while I was there. It seems that Justin has a collapsed lung. The medical team was performing an emergency procedure to fix it when I left. Amanda will call me. She’s on the verge of a complete emotional breakdown. And who blames her? Every time she feels a shred of hope, something else happens to beat her down. We’ve got to find Paul Everett, Hutch. It doesn’t matter how.”
Hutch evaded that last sentence. He and Casey had different restrictions when it came to operating within the boundaries of the law. So they avoided that topic like the plague.
“Did you ask Amanda if you could unofficially consult with me?”
“Yes. She was thrilled. So here’s where we are.”
Casey proceeded to bring Hutch up to speed, filling him in on everything—including some things that even Amanda didn’t know. But, in order to do his job, Hutch had to be apprised of the FI team’s suspicions about Lyle Fenton and his involvement in whatever prompted Paul Everett’s disappearance. Casey hesitated when it came to the part about Fenton’s relationship to Congressman Mercer. Was it imperative that Hutch know that? Yes. Not only was it a major facet of the bigger picture, but it elevated the entire situation to a bigger, more federal level.
By the time Casey was finished, Hutch was one hundred percent up to speed.
He sipped at his coffee, brows knit, as he digested everything Casey had just told him.
“This is a lot bigger and more complex than I realized,” he finally said.
“Exactly,” Casey replied. “It might involve a crime family as well as a national politician. We don’t know. We will know, because we wouldn’t have it any other way. But an infant’s life is on the line. We don’t have the luxury of time. And you have the ability and the resources to accelerate the process. So anything you could find out would be crucial to our search for Paul Everett.” A pause. “After that, the case is all yours. Turn it over to the Bureau. Bring down everyone involved. All signs point to Fenton being a scumbag, so I’d be thrilled. But, for our purposes, all we need is Justin’s father.”
“Fair enough.” Hutch’s mind was already racing, considering the best sources for him to approach. “Let me make a few phone calls and send out some emails. I’ll see what I can dig up.”
* * *
Casey’s cell phone rang ten minutes later. She’d been sitting on the floor, scratching Hero’s belly in the hopes of unwinding. Now, she saw the caller ID and snatched up the phone. It was Patrick.
“What’s happening?” she demanded.
“The procedure was successful,” Patrick informed her. “Justin’s out of crisis mode—for now. Amanda’s in the PICU with him. She asked me to call you.”
“Thank God.” Casey felt a wave of relief. “Whatever time this bought us, I’m using. I filled Hutch in on everything. He’s closeted in one of the downstairs offices, reaching out for his contacts, as we speak.”
“Good. Meanwhile, there have been no more phone calls at this end. That doesn’t mean a thing. Someone’s keeping a sharp eye on Amanda and on us. My guess is he’s in restraint mode while he gets a read on me. But he’ll be back. He’s not going anywhere as long as we’re continuing this manhunt.”
