The company president, Casey Woods—now Casey Woods-Hutchinson—had just returned to work, after a near-fatal shooting and months of rehab and recovery. Then, in joyous contrast and just weeks ago, had come an elegant wedding to her now-husband, high-level FBI BAU coordinator and head of all New York City violent crimes, Kyle “Hutch” Hutchinson.
Hutch had escorted her into the office at two-thirty this afternoon and planned on taking her home by five. Casey’s surgeon had firmly stated that building up her stamina with shortened work days of just a few hours at a time were essential to her complete recovery. She didn’t like it. But she’d agreed. Anything to return to the investigative company she’d founded and headed up, as well as to the employees who had long since become her dear friends.
Marc Devereaux, former Navy Seal, former FBI, and former FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit—and now Casey’s right-hand man since Forensic Instincts’ inception—was first to give her a warm hug and a broad, relieved grin when she and Hutch walked through the front door.
“Welcome back, Case,” he said. “No matter how incredible the wedding was, it’s even better to see you return to FI as commander-in-chief.”
Casey hugged him back, grateful to no longer have need of her cane. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed this place—and all of you.” She smiled as she saw the group of people waiting to greet her. They all hung back, making sure to keep enough of a distance so as not to impede her entry.
“I’m fine,” Casey assured them, steadily making her way in, and hugging each of them in turn.
“It’s been a tomb here without you,” Emma Stirling announced. A former pickpocket, now one of FI’s official investigators, Emma looked deceptively like the storybook Alice in Wonderland and always blurted out her uncensored thoughts—at least to the team. To the world she was all pro, a chameleon who changed hues as the case required.
“Not quite a tomb,” Patrick Lynch corrected, as he, too, hugged Casey. After thirty-five years with the FBI’s violent crimes division, Patrick was FI’s head of security and the father figure of the team—not to mention the person who kept them from toppling too far over the sharp edge that separated legal from illegal. “We’ve hardly been idle.”
“Indeed we have not.” Yoda, the FI team’s invisible but close-to-omniscient AI system, concurred, his voice reverberating through the halls of the brownstone. “We wrapped up one solid case, which Casey was able to assist with from home. In addition, we closed the enormous case prior to that, the one we all recall that came a hair’s breadth away from claiming Casey’s life.”
Everyone fell silent for a moment, remembering that nightmarish time right before Christmas.
Yoda broke the pained silence. “Given that this is an awkward and emotional moment, let me speak up by also welcoming you back, Casey, and assuring you that you were missed. However,” he added, reverting back to his more scientific self, “I can report that all day-to-day operations ran smoothly here during your absence.”
“Thank you, Yoda,” Casey replied fondly. “That’s good news, although I never doubted it.”
“Yoda’s operating on a whole new level.” Ryan McKay, Yoda’s creator and the team’s techno-genius and creative problem-solver announced, after hugging Casey. Ryan was quite the antithesis of a tech-geek, with drop-dead Black Irish good looks and a boatload of sexual magnetism. He also had an ego to match his skills.
“Just this morning, I installed Yoda’s latest update, which will make him faster, broader in scope, and better than ever—if that’s even possible,” Ryan added like a proud papa. “I’ve even enhanced his emotional capabilities.”
“Okay, I’m impressed.” Casey gave him a high-five. Despite his brilliant IT skills and his equally brilliant spycraft—which helped him produce robotic creations that were capable of doing just about everything—Ryan still regarded Yoda as his greatest achievement—one he’d created at the formation of Forensic Instincts and continually updated to be the most multi-faceted and sophisticated of inventions.
Ryan had one weakness, and that was the lovely, blonde-haired woman who was now kissing Casey’s cheek and squeezing her hands—the FI team’s own claircognizant, Claire Hedgleigh. She was a rare and accomplished intuitive, whose insights were crucial to solving their cases. She and Ryan were quite the couple—he, the diehard facts guy, she the believer in the metaphysical and the intangible.
At work, their differences resulted in many a sizzling argument. At home and in bed, they also sizzled.
Right now, Claire’s eyes were damp with tears. “Casey, I can’t tell you what it means to have you back, healing and strong.”
Casey squeezed Claire’s hands in return. “I’m so thankful to be here where I belong.”
Hutch spoke up in that authoritative voice of his. “Let’s get Casey seated and comfortable.” He glanced to his right, at the warm, inviting FI library, and gently urged his wife in that direction. As the BAU coordinator and squad supervisor of the FBI New York field office’s NCAVC—the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crimes—Hutch was innately a take-charge guy. “This is ideal,” he said, easing Casey onto the settee. “No stairs. A soft settee. And lots of room for everyone to gather round.”
Casey’s lips curved as she got settled. “I feel like King Arthur surrounded by my Knights of the Round Table.”
“Good,” Hutch replied. “Then go ahead and hold court. As long as you follow the surgeon’s instructions.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hutch leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. “Agreement without a battle. I could get used to that.”
“Don’t,” Casey advised. “It won’t happen often.”
The whole team laughed.
“I presume Hero stayed behind at your place?” Marc asked, referring to the team’s human scent evidence dog who was now retired from the FBI and an integral part of FI—not to mention Casey’s loving pet and a gift from Hutch.
“Yes.” Hutch nodded. “Bringing an energetic bloodhound in was too much for Casey on her first trip back?—”
“But he’ll be coming in with me next week,” Casey interrupted. “He belongs with the team, and with me.”
Hutch’s lips twitched. His wife might be a force to be reckoned with, but it felt so good to see her coming back to herself. “Let’s make sure…”
