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Hutch eyed the group as Casey walked away, cell phone in hand. “And what was the tip that this anonymous caller provided?” he asked. While he might not know the details of the case, he did know FI.
Marc shrugged. “Something about a home office full of slashed photos of Mr. Worster. And an unregistered gun, which was apparently just sitting out on our suspect’s desk.”
“And who would have the access needed to supply this timely anonymous tip?”
“The ‘who’ is a mystery. That’s why they call it anonymous,” Marc replied dryly. “My money is on the maid. She works there six days a week.”
“The maid.”
“Yup.”
“Right. And the convenient timing of this incriminating and oh-so-visible evidence that elicited the anonymous tip—do I want to know your ideas on how it got there?”
Marc took a deep swallow of Chianti. “Nope.”
Hutch rolled his eyes. “I didn’t think so.” He was no stranger to the unorthodox methods of this amazing team. Still, he was a federal agent. He couldn’t know about illegal activities, no matter how altruistic. So the Forensic Instincts team did their best not to put him in any untenable positions, and Hutch did his best to not ask questions he didn’t want the answers to.
Although they all knew he’d walked the finest of lines in the past, especially when it came to Casey’s safety.
“This is excellent news,” Ryan declared. With great enthusiasm, he refilled his glass. “Now we’ll be able to put all our resources into our new case.” He glanced from Adele to Hutch. “Sorry, I can’t talk about it, because it’s ongoing. But it’s a really interesting one.”
Hutch pursed his lips, glancing into the kitchen in time to see Casey punch off her phone.
“Well, since we can’t talk about your new case, and since we’ve worked up a sweat from unpacking and pretty much polished off every speck of food on this table, not to mention an extra bottle of wine courtesy of Claire and Ryan, I’m thinking we should call it a night.” He rose. “I can’t thank you enough for the welcome, the food, and the help.”
“Aren’t you subtle?” Ryan muttered. “I just poured myself another glass of Chianti. Can I at least drink that?”
“Take it on the road,” Claire said. “Let’s let Casey and Hutch have some privacy.”
Everyone hastily stood up, tossing their plates and utensils into a giant trash bag and gathering up their things.
“We really thank you guys,” Casey said, returning to the living room. “Sorry for Hutch’s bluntness. I think he’s exhausted from the long drive and the whole settling in thing.”
“Tired, my ass,” Ryan commented wryly. “He looks like a hungry wolf about to pounce on you and—”
“Good night, Ryan,” Casey interrupted him. “You know the way out.” She glanced over her shoulder at Hero, who was snoring in his favorite spot. “Hero can spend the night here, since that’s where I’ll be.” She yawned—a yawn that was about as convincing as a criminal’s not guilty plea. “I guess I’m pretty beat, too.”
Adele began to laugh. “Shoo, everyone. Casey and Hutch want to share some intimacy.” Her eyes twinkled as they met Casey’s. “I may be sixty, but sixty is the new thirty. I know when it’s time to let a couple have their space.”
With that, she scooted everyone out the door, then slipped her arm through Patrick’s and followed suit. She turned to give Casey a quick wink.
Casey grinned. “See you all tomorrow, and thanks again,” she called after them.
Having locked the door, she turned to find Hutch shrugging off his shirt. “Payoff time, Ms. Woods,” he said in a low, sexy tone. “You’ve got thirty seconds to get into that bed. It’s ready and waiting—I made it myself.”
With a soft laugh, Casey scooted past him into the bedroom, pulling her sweater over her head and tossing it out into the hall. “Make that twenty seconds, Agent Hutchinson.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Tribeca, NYC
Office of Forensic Instincts
Patrick led the way around the back of the brownstone, gesturing for Lisa, Milo, and Shannon to follow him up to the second-story terrace. Once there, he punched the security code into the Hirsch pad and opened the double doors, waiting until everyone was in before shutting the doors behind them and reentering the code.
Casey walked out of the main conference room. “Did everything go as planned?” she asked Patrick, smiling a hello at the trio of clients.
“Like clockwork,” he replied. “These three left Upper Montclair for a shopping spree in the city. They walked up and down Fifth Avenue, buying a few things to make Shannon feel less afraid and more at home.” He grinned, pointing to the giant stuffed koala bear in Shannon’s arms. “They were very convincing. From there, they headed to Times Square for a movie matinee.”
