Casey blinked, clearing the medication-induced cobwebs from her head. “To the bathroom?”
“Try again. Sophia keeps a thorough chart. I know when you ate, when you took your meds, and when you last used the bathroom.”
With a cranky grunt, Casey reached around to plump up her pillows.
Hutch crossed over and completed the task, then eased Casey back so she was comfortable. “In case I didn’t mention it, your cell phone and iPad are locked away in my desk drawer in our office. So don’t waste your time.”
She rolled her eyes. “I was only going to quickly check in with my team.”
“And we agreed that wasn’t going to happen until after tomorrow’s follow-up appointment with your surgeon.” Hutch lowered himself to the edge of the bed, his eyes boring into her. “Besides, there’s no great urgency for you to connect with your team, considering the fact that FI is no longer working on the Walshes’ cases. Right?”
Casey didn’t miss a beat. “You ordered us to back off. So that’s what we’re doing.”
“Why do I find that hard to believe?”
A shrug. “Because you’re a born skeptic?”
“Or because I know you too well.”
“My company is pretty renowned at this point, which means we’re very busy. Maybe we took on a new client.”
Hutch arched a brow. “Uh-huh. And maybe the sun turned cold. New investigations aren’t even addressed, much less taken on, without you there, either in person or via Zoom. Not to mention, we’ve seen no new comings and goings at FI. So no recent clients and no new investigations.”
“You’re surveilling the brownstone.”
“Sure are. Any more questions? Because now I have a few.”
Casey sighed. “I’m surprised you waited this long.”
“I wanted you strong and clear-headed enough. Which, considering your feistiness, it seems you are. So, let’s get started. I’ll keep it brief and to the point, so I don’t tax your strength.”
Casey gritted her teeth. SSA Hutchinson was back. And he knew her too damn well. The fire at Ryan’s parents’ house. The FI team filing out of the brownstone, splitting up, and making obscure drops in trash cans. Half-truths that still hung between them.
“Do you know where Caitlin Walsh is?” Hutch demanded, going straight in for the kill.
“No.” An honest reply.
“But you’re actively looking for her—everywhere from New York and New Jersey to New England.”
“We were. We stopped when you threatened to shut us down.”
“What about the company she works for—Scott Security? I’m sure you’ve checked them out. Found anything?”
“Probably the same things you found. They’re sketchy. So are their business practices. But nothing overtly illegal.”
“Overtly illegal,” Hutch repeated. “Good choice of words. So, tell me, have any methods FI used for information-gathering into Scott Security been either overtly or covertly illegal?”
Casey sighed. “I don’t know what you’re implying. So I’m going to choose not to respond. Why? Has the FBI uncovered something of import?”
“Nice try. But I’m the one asking the questions. And you’re not going to divert me or con me into filling you in on our investigation.”
“Then I guess we’re at a dead end,” Casey replied with a shrug.
Hutch’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s try another subject—the fire at Ryan’s parents’ house. Any thoughts about that?”
Casey met her husband’s gaze directly. “My guess? It was someone’s attempt to draw Caitlin out in the hopes that she’d run straight to Kennedy to ensure her safety. To my knowledge, that hasn’t happened. I’m aware that the entire incident is now being treated as an active arson investigation. But that’s all I know.”
Hutch didn’t avert his gaze. “I could demand you tell me what was in the laptop cases you marched out of here with.”
