Sure enough, Casey bolted into a sitting position. “What?” she demanded. “Three hours?” As if to confirm, she picked up her cell phone and looked at the time. “Dammit!” Shoving waves of hair off her face, she glanced frantically around, as if she didn’t know which thing to do first. “Patrick…Claire…Angela—shit!” She squirmed to get up, determined to get to the living room, grab her iPad, and initiate a group Zoom meeting.
“Hey, easy.” Hutch pulled her against him, ignoring her furious expression, and pressing her head to his shoulder. “You’ll make it all happen.” He kissed the crown of her head, easing her struggles to free herself. “I know you’re ripping pissed at me, but you were wiped. You needed your rest.”
Casey stared up at him accusingly. “I was fine until you pulled the whole caveman thing on me.”
A grin tugged at Hutch’s lips. “Really? Did I also hypnotize you into falling asleep?”
Casey frowned, realizing how irrational she was being. “I was supposed to talk to members of my team hours ago. They must be worried and angry.”
“They’re neither. I texted them all, and told them you’d conked out. They’re waiting patiently for you to get back to them. And, no, I didn’t ask what they were doing or why. No sabotaging your investigation—you have my word.”
Easing herself to standing, Casey shot him a sideways look. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Your reaction? Yes. Your pushing yourself too hard? No.”
Casey grimaced. “You made your point. Now I have to get to my iPad and get to work.”
“Fine. One condition. Group text your team and let them know you’ll be initiating a Zoom meeting in fifteen minutes. Then, come to the kitchen and eat. No shoveling while you work. Please, Case. For me.”
Between Hutch’s plea and how worried he looked, Casey relented. “Fifteen minutes. Then I get our office to myself—for as many hours as I need it.”
“Within reason,” Hutch clarified. He didn’t wait for an answer. “Go ahead and send your text. I’ll put out the food.”
8
Casey and Hutch’s apartment
Battery Park City
Manhattan, New York
Six-forty-seven on the dot, Casey shut the door to the second bedroom—the one that she and Hutch shared as their home offices—armed with her iPad and her notes. The newly married couple had effectively split the spacious room in two, with his and hers matching workstations, each with a swivel office chair, side table, and bookshelves, all in a classy, modern teak. Rather than using up the office’s space with a guest bed, they’d instead put in a printer, copy machine, and coffee-maker, opting for a couch in the living room that opened up into a queen-sized bed, and a more expansive, hi-tech Jura station in the kitchen.
All in all, it was a perfect layout for their needs.
That being said, the office furnishings were the last thing on Casey’s mind as she headed straight to her desk and settled herself behind it.
She’d already planned her agenda.
The topics would be: What Patrick and Marc had learned at their lunch. Patrick’s opinion on having John Nickels heading up the NYPD facet of the investigation. Claire’s feedback on any sensory connections she’d made with Shane’s possessions. Ryan’s progress on restoring Shane’s phone and, if completed, what data he’d pulled off of it. Emma’s social media findings on both Shane and, more likely, Caitlin. And last, Angela’s legal take on the proper procedure to follow in order to ferry Kennedy’s homework to and from school, plus, knowing Angela, anything else she’d already thought through and researched regarding the case.
After that, Casey was open and willing to listen to anything and everything from the team that she hadn’t already covered, and to brainstorm the next ideas to pursue.
A minute after Casey initiated the Zoom meeting, six invitees joined the session and the whole team’s faces appeared on her screen. All of them, save Angela, were still at the office.
“Hi all,” Casey said, taut and ready to roll. “I want to begin by apologizing. I left you all in the lurch.”
Ryan spoke without thinking, as was his usual MO. “Come on, boss. Cut yourself some slack. You were on the verge of collapse when I finally got you into that Escalade Hutch hired to drive you home. And you didn’t go willingly. The last thing we need is an incapacitated president—again.”
You could have heard a pin drop on that Zoom meeting.
The irked tone. The take-charge attitude. The reference—yet again—to a time when Casey couldn’t be in command and control. For the second time that day, Ryan had way overstepped, and the results wouldn’t be pretty. FI might be a family, but Casey was its undisputed leader.
Her eyes flashed as she leveled her gaze on him, opening her mouth to put him in his place.
Claire interceded. “Casey, not all of us expresses it artfully, but we’re all worried about you. We’re asking a lot—way more than your surgeon would agree to. Sometimes you have to give in to your body’s needs in order to stay healthy.”
The anger in Casey’s eyes banked, and her lips twitched. “Ah, Claire, the consummate diplomat. Ryan might not know it, but you just saved his ass.”
