“But you are the covert type. You won’t be spotted. Plus, I’ve seen the sensitive side of you. You’ll pull it off.” Casey held up a palm. “And before you stress it yet again, I realize Hutch will be über pissed. I’ll deal with that later—after we have the information we need.”
“Brave girl,” Marc said drily. “But you’ve got a valid point. Let’s see what I can do.”
A glint of hope lit Casey’s eyes. “Go for it.”
15 Marigold Terrace
New Rochelle, New York
1:35 pm
Marc slipped in the back door of Shane and Caitlin’s house, then crept to the front window, standing to a side and peering into the street.
Several FBI agents doing their jobs, subtly traveling from door to door to interview people. A bunch of curious neighbors milling around and watching them. The end result? No one was focused on Shane and Caitlin’s empty house. Excellent. Now Marc just had to continue to evade them.
Just to be safe, he waited a few minutes before he began his search—and when he did, it was slowly, cautiously, squatting down as he moved from room to room.
Claire’s suggestions had been good ones. On the kitchen drain board were two mugs, one that read “Shane” and one that read “Caitlin”. Right beside them were two teaspoons. It was a good guess that the combined items were used for their last shared early morning cup-of-coffee ritual.
Marc opened the backpack he’d slid over his shoulder and put both mugs and spoons inside.
From there, he glanced into the living room and shook his head. Warm and cozy, but not intimate enough for what he needed.
He turned, easing his way up the flight of stairs and to the master bedroom. His gaze darted about. There was a coaster on each nightstand, each of which had a coffee ring on it. Obviously, the spots where the couple placed their mugs. Marc grabbed those, too, as well as the remote control that was between the two pillows on the bed.
Lastly, he went into the master bath, hunting down the final items Claire had mentioned. Sure enough, there was a pair of hand towels on the hooks beside the sink, monogramed with Shane and Caitlin’s initials.
Marc stuffed those in the backpack, as well. He even stepped into the stall shower and took the bottles of shampoo and conditioner—personal items that both Shane and Caitlin had held in their hands.
He’d just left the room and was inching his way toward the stairs, when a sudden thought occurred to him. It might be useful. It might not. But it was worth the try.
He pivoted and crept down to Kennedy’s room. There was no mistaking it, he thought with a hint of a smile. It was light pink and filled with stuffed animals, together with a kid’s desk and a clothing bureau, all in a bright lacquered white. In contrast, there was a slew of gymnastics equipment clustered in one corner and three taekwondo medals on the far wall. Definitely a well-rounded kid.
Marc’s gaze swept the room, settling on a school project that Kennedy was in the midst of working on. It was a half-completed historic building, comprised of Legos, that, when finished, would be the Eiffel Tower. It was complex and finely detailed—a project that would require a parent’s help. Whichever parent had provided that help would have had to handle the blocks, as would Kennedy.
Taking it would be a great idea—and a tough execution.
There was a solution for every problem.
Instead of picking up the whole structure and risking its demise, Marc plucked a short column of Legos off the top—the area where Kennedy and her mom or dad had most likely been currently constructing. He put those in his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.
He waited until he was back in his car before texting a message and all the photos to Casey.
Then, he went off to dodge the agents and question the neighbors.
Casey and Hutch’s apartment
Battery Park City
Manhattan, New York
4:50 pm
At the sound of Hero’s bark, Casey squirmed in the bed and opened her eyes. After reviewing all the photos Marc had sent her, in addition to reading the tidbits of information he’d gathered on his neighborhood tour—all of which he’d share with the team later—she’d tossed and turned for an hour before drifting off for a nap. Now, judging from the sounds emanating from the front door, Hero was greeting Hutch, who’d just arrived home.
She sat up amid the rumpled covers, running her fingers through her hair and pushing it away from her face. A moment later, Hutch walked in, looking weary and preoccupied. Clearly, he’d had a rough day, yet he was home early. His gaze swept over Casey, assessing her and making sure she was okay.
“Hey, did I wake you?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning forward to kiss her.
