“I’ll be fine,” Casey replied, meeting Hutch’s concerned gaze. “Things need to get back to normal. Please, Hutch.”
He wavered, never immune to that persuasive look of Casey’s. “If you’re up to it,” he said.
“I will be.”
Marc grinned. “So we’ll have Hero back with us on Monday. And the team will be reunited.”
Emma held up one index finger. “Hold that thought.” With that, she went up to the kitchen and returned in minutes with a cold bottle of champagne and a tray of flutes. “Celebration time,” she announced, popping the cork. “Casey was cleared weeks ago to have a drink, as she demonstrated at her wedding. So it’s time for a toast.”
Casey gratefully took her glass of bubbly from Emma. “You guys are the best. By the way, I spoke to Angela this morning. She’ll be starting here full-time on Monday. And I, for one, can’t wait. A whole new challenge and a whole new—and much-needed—area of expertise.”
Angela King, a barracuda of a defense attorney who had been a frenemy to FI during their last big case, was leaving her prestigious law practice to come on board with FI, after a unanimous vote of yes by the team. She was a powerhouse, and having her on their side was going to be a great asset—not to mention she’d be able to finagle things with the NYPD in order to keep the FI team out of jail.
“To Casey’s return,” Ryan said, lifting his glass in a toast. “Finally our captain is back at the helm.”
The entire team echoed the toast and drank.
As he took a healthy swallow of champagne, Ryan’s cell phone buzzed.
He saw the number and took the call, angling himself away from the group. “Hey, Mom. Everything’s on track for Sunday night’s dinner. No lecture required. Claire and I will be there, as promised.”
Maureen’s response was anything but what he’d expected. “Ryan…” Her voice was shaking… “Something bad is happening. I need your help.”
Ryan’s good humor vanished. His mother might be a worrier, but she wasn’t one to panic for no reason. “What is it? Where are you?”
“I’m in a taxi, heading for Kennedy’s school.”
“Why?”
In a choked voice, Maureen managed to fill Ryan in on Shane’s message. If anyone could make sense of it, Ryan could. Even though Shane was older than Ryan, the two had been tight cousins since they were kids. And, regardless of how seldom they got together, that closeness had lasted. In addition, Shane’s nine-year-old daughter, Kennedy, worshipped the ground that Ryan walked on.
Ryan left the library and went out to the entranceway, needing privacy for this call, and trying to digest what he was hearing. “Shane’s never cryptic,” he told his mother. “And he certainly doesn’t call you from burner phones, which I’m sure this was. As for Kennedy—where’s Caitlin?” Ryan asked, referring to Shane’s wife and Kennedy’s mom. “She picks Kennedy up every day except Wednesday, when she’s not working virtually—and even then she has one of Kennedy’s friend’s mother pick her up. Besides, today is Friday.”
Gripping the phone more tightly, Ryan forced himself not to overreact. There could be a logical explanation for this. But, in his gut, he knew otherwise.
His mind shifted into fix-it mode. “Try to stay calm, Mom,” he said. “Pick up Kennedy. Bring her to your house. She’ll love that. I’m going to New Rochelle, to check out Shane’s place. Whatever it is that he wants to keep Kennedy from is obviously there.”
“What could it be?” Maureen asked, frightened beyond words.
“I don’t know.” Ryan swallowed, trying not to further freak out his mother. “But I’m going to find out.”
2
Offices of Forensic Instincts
Library
Friday, 2:55 p.m.
Ryan walked back into the library, standing at the threshold and making eye contact with Casey.
“I’m sorry, boss. I have to go,” he said. “A family crisis. It could be dangerous. I need to be there.”
Casey and the whole team caught Ryan’s uncharacteristically frozen stance and white-faced fear.
“Go.” Casey’s response was instantaneous and unquestioning.
Ryan turned to Marc. “I need you to drive me. I’m not dealing with mass transit.”
