“I know. Thanks.”
Casey cleared her throat. “We’ve all got a lot to do today, since yesterday was a bust other than Emma working on the list of Caitlin’s friends.” Casey’s gaze shifted to Emma. “Judging from what I’ve seen so far, you’re doing a great job. I’m looking forward to getting the complete list. And I’m proud of you.”
Emma beamed. “Thanks.”
“I’ll analyze the entirety of what you put in the cloud as soon as it’s there. Then, I’ll take it all to Maureen McKay, the instant she’s up to seeing me. Given her nuclear role in the McKay household, I have a strong feeling she’ll contribute a lot to pinpointing what’s necessary.”
With that, Casey paused, her lips thinning into an annoyed line. “Just so you all know, I’ll be here today only until after Marc has his Zoom meeting with SA Adams. Hopefully, by then he’ll also have heard back from James Harkins. I doubt he’ll have collected what Claire needs at the Walshes’ house—it’ll be too early. I’m going home to rest before two o’clock, per my husband’s request. I reminded him that I’d relaxed and worked in a recliner under an afghan most of yesterday, but that didn’t seem to help. So I’ll take a late-afternoon nap, eat dinner, and be available by Zoom this evening. Let’s make it seven-thirty.”
Marc’s lips twitched at the irked note in Casey’s voice. “Got it. Seven-thirty it is. We’ll fill you in on anything you miss.”
A tight nod. “I’ll be back in the office at the crack of dawn tomorrow. In addition, we’re moving back to the main conference room next week. That’s where we have our team meetings, not to mention that it’s also my office. Things need to get back to normal. I can manage one flight of stairs.”
Marc didn’t argue. “Just make sure to run it by your surgeon.” His lips twitched again. “And your sentry.”
Casey shot him a look. “I will. And I’m not amused.”
“I’ll also be in first thing tomorrow,” Claire announced. “I want to connect with whatever Marc brings me from Shane and Caitlin’s house as soon as possible.”
“And I’ll be with Claire,” Ryan said. “It’ll be time for me to get back to work. Casey, I’ll pull my mom aside tonight and make sure she’s okay with your calling her tomorrow and setting up meetings—first with her and then with Kennedy. We’ll still be mourning in our hearts. But we’ve got to move forward with this investigation.”
Casey studied his face. “Are you sure it’s not too soon?”
“Positive.”
“Then I’d appreciate it. Claire, when I go to the McKay house, I want you with me,” Casey continued. “Given your gift of claircognizance, it would be the right decision under any circumstances, but especially under these. You spent time with Kennedy. You were at the house when the FBI broke the horrible news to her, and again at the wake and now the funeral. Given who and what you are, I’m sure she already feels comfortable with you. You can ease the way through our talk.”
Claire nodded. “Of course. I’ll also be with you when you interview the rest of the family. We can work those meetings around the all-important ones with Ryan’s mom and with Kennedy.”
“All my siblings and my dad will be on board,” Ryan assured them. “You can call them tomorrow, as well, and get things rolling.”
“That’s ideal,” Casey responded. “Thank you, Ryan.” She glanced from one team member to another. “So we’re all set?”
Nods across the board, although Ryan looked upset and torn.
“You’ll be back at full steam tomorrow,” Casey said gently. “Today you’re needed elsewhere—the same elsewhere you need and want to be. Go. Our thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.”
Podgorica, Montenegro
6:05 PM CET
Owen Willard slammed the empty whiskey glass down on the table in disgust. His two guys, who were surveilling the house from that nearby apartment over the store, had turned up shit. Just hour upon hour of boring conversation. And the video was worse. Just the family marching in and out. Mostly, that stupid overbearing hen clucking around the kid.
He swore under his breath, leaned back in his chair, and massaged his temples. The drink hadn’t done anything to ease his migraine or his stress. He might have killed the FBI guy, but that didn’t end the problem. His boss was all over his ass about the threat the fucking agent had left behind, and leaning on him to finish the job. Easier said than done, especially since he couldn’t handle the situation firsthand. But a return trip was not in the cards. Thanks to his fuck-up, he’d be stuck in this bullshit country for the rest of his life, the only good thing being that he couldn’t be extradited, tried, convicted, and sent to a supermax prison.
That wouldn’t keep him safe from his boss. He had to do something to get the wife to resurface—and fast. Increased pressure might up the incentive. He’d kick-start that right now.
Maybe that would ruffle the feathers of that old hen and make things happen.
East 236th Street
Woodlawn, Bronx, New York
12:15 pm
Ryan and Clare had left Manhattan early and were about to turn onto the McKays’ street. The entire family was meeting at the house before the funeral. Being together to share in the somber mood of the day and the personal agonizing everyone was going through was as important as being at the church. This way, they could travel there, car by car, in a line and as a unit, as tight as any family in crisis could be, lending strength to each other and standing as one to endure the ordeal of saying good-bye to Shane.
As they neared the house, Claire reached over and took Ryan’s hand. “I’ll be wherever my instincts tell me to go,” she said softly. “But mostly I’ll be by your side. I’ll know when you need me.”
