Temperature will reach seventy degrees in approximately seven minutes.
Great. Thanks. Marc gave a faint smile at the startled look on Amandas face. She was peering around, trying to determine the source of the voice.
Thats Yoda, he informed her. Hes the inexplicable creation of Ryan McKay, the techno genius of Forensic Instincts. Hes omniscient and harmless. Marc pulled out a chair. Have a seat. Youll probably want to keep your coat on until it gets a little warmer in here.
Thank you. Youre very kind. Amanda sank down into the chair, continuing to clutch her coat and her file folder. She looked like a terrified bird being chased by a predator.
Now, tell me what Forensic Instincts can do for you.
Amanda drew an unsteady breath. You can find someone for me. If hes alive.
Marc sank back in his chair, intentionally trying to put Amanda at ease, even though his brain was on high alert. Who is it you want us to find and why arent you sure hes alive?
My boyfriend. He was declared a no-body homicide. The police found his car, with blood splattered all over the drivers seat and windshield, out at Lake Montauk. There were signs that he was dragged to another car. The theory was that he was killed, and his body dumped in the ocean. The Coast Guard searched for days, using every form of sophisticated equipment they had. Nothing turned up. The case was closed.
When did this happen?
In April.
And youre first coming to us now, eight months later. Why? Do you have some new evidence that suggests hes alive?
New evidence and a new reason to find him immediately. Amanda rushed on to dispel the obvious. I know youre thinking that, if hes alive, maybe he doesnt want to be found. Even if thats true, which I dont believe it is, he has no choice. Not now.
Marc leaned across the table and pulled over a legal-size pad. He preferred to take his notes in longhand, then transfer them into the computer. Typing into a laptop was very off-putting to clients who needed a personal connection.
Whats this mans name?
Paul Everett.
And why is finding him so urgent?
Amanda swallowed, her hands twisting in her lap. We have a son. He was born three weeks ago. He was just diagnosed with SCIDSevere Combined Immunodeficiency. His body is incapable of fighting infection. He needs a stem cell transplant from a matched donor or hell die.
Marc put down his pen. I assume youre not a match?
She shook her head. The testing said Im not even a candidate. I was in a car accident as a child. Thanks to the blood transfusions I received, I have hepatitis C. So Im out of the picture. And so far, so is the National Marrow Donor Program Registry. They have no match for us. The best, maybe the only hope is Justins father. Two tears slid down Amandas cheeks. Fiercely, she wiped them away. I could give you a full scientific explanation, Mr. Devereaux. Its consumed my life these past weeks, and I seem to know far more about how a human body can fail than I ever thought possible. But we dont have time. Thanks to me, Justin already has an infection and is showing symptoms of pneumonia.
Thanks to you?
I was nursing him. Evidently, Im carrying a dormant virus called CMVCytomegalovirus. I passed it along to Justin. Hes started to cough and he has a feverboth of which are indicators that hes developing CMV pneumonia. Plus, he picked up parainfluenza during the two weeks he was home. His breathings uneven, his nose is running. I didnt know he had a compromised immune system, or Id never have let him have visitors. Its too late to change that. Hes on antibiotics and gamma globulin. But even those can only suppress the CMV virus, not cure it. They can also be toxic to a child. As for the parainfluenza, theres literally nothing they can give him. Justin is less than a month old. His tiny body cant sustain itself for long. This is a life-or-death situation.
Im very sorry.
Then help me.
Amanda unbanded her file and opened it, pulling out a USB drive, a DVD and two newspaper clippings. She slid them across the table to Marc. Here are the obituary and a small write-up of Pauls death from the Southampton Press, the local newspaper out there. Pretty sparse. Paul was a real-estate developer with no family. The only exciting aspect to report was the alleged homicide. She pointed at the disk. A local cable TV station gave a brief broadcast when it happened. That was it for media coverage.
Marc glanced at both the write-up and the obit, making a mental note to contact both the newspaper and TV station. He slid his laptop over and popped in the USB drive. Two images appeared on his monitor, side by side. The first was of Amanda and a manpresumably Paul Everettposing on a windswept beach in their ski jackets, arms wrapped around each other. The expressions on their faces, their intimate stance, said they were very much in love. The second image was of the two of them at some sort of formal gathering. They were smiling, looking directly into the camera as they posed for a photograph.
Now look at this. Amanda pulled out her cell phone and placed it on the table for Marc to see.
There was a photo on the screen, and Marc shifted his attention to study it. Being a cell phone shot, it was a lot grainier than the other two photos. But it was obviously the image of a man standing on a busy street corner, impatiently waiting for a light to change. He was staring at the dont walk sign, which gave the photographer a chance to catch him face-first.
Marc could see that from the facial features, the expression and the stance, it was the same man as the one in the other two shots.
When was this second photo taken? he asked. And where?
Yesterday. In Washington, D.C.
By whom?
A friend of mine, a fellow photojournalist. In this case, my friend saw the resemblance to Paul. She didnt wait to get her camera ready. She just used the closest thingher cell phone. She emailed me the photo a couple of hours ago. I had just walked out of the hospital to take a break.
So she knew you and Paul as a couple.
Yes. She also knew Id never had a chance to tell Paul I was pregnant. She was hoping to give me that chance, along with the incredible news that Paul was alive.
Paul Everett had never known about the pregnancy, Marc thought. That eliminated one basic reason why hed choose to vanish. Still, Marc would want to talk to Amandas friend.
Amanda mistook his silence for skepticism. I have no idea why Paul would vanish without saying a word or why hed start a new life elsewhere. Once I got this cell phone shot and realized he might be alive, I was relieved, but I was also furious. I feltI feelbetrayed. When they told me Paul was dead, I was ready to raise my child alone. But now that theres a chance he could be alive, a chance that he could save Justins life my pride is a non-issue. I have to try to track Paul down.
Marc was still staring intently from the screen to the cell phone, looking for additional characteristics that would confirm the images as the same man. Did you call the police about this new photo? he asked.
Yes, in the taxi on my way to your office. Two guesses whether or not they gave me any points for credibility. Amandas lips trembled and tears began sliding down her cheeks. Thats why Im here. Ive been toying with the idea of calling you since last April when Paul disappeared, hoping you could uncover a miracle. But this photo clinched it. You have a reputation for solving cases that no one else can. Please. For the sake of my baby Will you help me? Ill scrape together any amount of money to pay your fee. Ill give up my apartment, if need be. I dont care. I just want Justin to be all right. She broke down, dropping her face into her hands and openly sobbing.
This isnt about money, Marc assured her, although shed had him the minute she described her situation with her infant. Our policy is to adjust our fees based upon our clients monetary circumstances. Thankfully, they could do that. Between the astronomical bonuses they received from their more affluent clients, and the trust fund Caseys grandfather had left her, Forensic Instincts was on solid financial footing.
Then what is it? Amanda asked as Marc fell silent.
Marc didnt answer immediately. The problem was, he was in the hot seat. Forensic Instincts had an unbroken rule: they never took on a case without first having a full-team discussion and a unanimous decision.
Well, these were dire circumstances. And given that no one else from the team was around and that it would take time to reach them all and get them over herehell, there was a first time for everything.
Its nothing I cant work out, he stated flatly. Well find Paul Everett, Ms. Gleason. If hes alive, well find him. And well do whatevers necessary to ensure his cooperation.
Amandas head shot up, her tear-streaked face displaying a glimmer of hope. Oh, thank you. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.
Thank me when weve done the job. Marcs mind was on overdrive. What hospital is your son in?
Sloane Kettering. He was referred there by the staff at Mount Sinai who made the original diagnosis.
So youre staying there with him?
I havent left until just now.
Fine. Marc nodded. Ill need you to email that cell phone picture to me. Ill also need some basic information from youincluding the name and contact info of your photojournalist friend. Then go back to your baby. Give me a chance to assemble the team and lay all this out for them. Well have a plan by morning.
Part of that plan, he knew, was going to include having his ass kicked.
CHAPTER THREE
Marc, youre the one person I rely on to keep a consistent level head. You, of all people, know what it means to be a team member. What made you jump the gun like this?
Casey Woods, the founder and president of Forensic Instincts, stood at the head of the sweeping oval table in the main conference room, her palms pressed flat on the surface, her spine ramrod straight. For a petite, strikingly attractive redhead in her early thirties, she had the commanding presence of an army general and the leadership skills to match. She was also a trained behavioral and investigative profiler with unerring gut instincts that enhanced her skills.
Right now, it didnt take a profiler to know she was pissed.
And not because it was close to midnight, and the entire FI team was gathered around the table, bleary-eyed, having been summoned for an emergency meeting. Business as usual at Forensic Instincts. But not for this reason.
Marc leaned back in his chair and met Caseys gaze head-on. Amanda Gleason had to get back to the hospital to her gravely ill infant. An on-the-spot decision had to be made. I know you, Casey. I know the whole team. We would have agreed to take this case. So I bent the rules. Under the circumstances, Im sure you can understand my rationale.
Glancing back down at Marcs notes, Casey blew out her breath. The fact was, she could see the merit behind Marcs argument. But it had still been a major breach of their team credo.
I want to help this poor woman as much as you do, she said, calming down enough to lower herself into a chair and begin stroking Heros glossy head. He was sitting up and looking around, visibly aware of the tension in the room. But you know you could have gotten the whole team together, either in person or by conference call, in a matter of minutes. All you had to do was explain that to Ms. Gleason.
Youre right, Marc acknowledged. I should have waited. But after the child kidnapping case we just wrapped up A brief pause. Look. Stuff like this is my hot button. Thats not news to any of you. Circumstances just made it easier to push it.
I understand where Marc is coming from. Claire Hedgleigh spoke up. She was one of the teams newest members, and also its least hard-edged. Her abilities could be described as psychic; she preferred the term intuitive. Either way, her intangible connections to people and things were astonishing. They also made her more sensitive to Marcs plight.
This is a newborn baby were talking about, she continued. Every moment counts.
So do agreed-upon rules. Retired FBI Special Agent Patrick Lynchalso a new team memberspoke up. If we dont have some kind of protocol here, well be tripping over each other, each taking on different, and maybe conflicting, cases. He arched a brow at Casey. Actually, I think this is the first time weve ever agreed about rule breaking.
Were coming from different places, Patrick, Casey replied. So dont get too excited.
Come on, Casey, take it down a couple of notches. Cut Marc some slack. Ryan McKay, Forensic Instincts strategic whiz and techno-genius, made a disgusted sound. He called us the minute Amanda Gleason walked out the door. Im the one who should be complaining. I was in stage four sleep when Marcs phone call came. You know how I feel about my sleep.
Everyone knew how Ryan felt about his sleep. And no one wanted to be around him when he didnt get it.
On the other hand, with those drop-dead Black Irish looks, Ryan looked better with red eyes and bed head than most men did at a formal affair.
I guess we were lucky you were alone, Claire commented drily. Or you might have blown us off.
Ryan shot her a look. Never happen. He angled his head toward Casey. Well? Whats the verdict?
Casey stared at Marcs notes for another second, then raised her head and glanced at the team members, one by one. I say we take it, she stated.
Take it, Ryan echoed.
Absolutely, Claire chimed in.
Patricks nod was firm. We could save a childs life. Take it.
Im still ticked off at you, Casey informed Marc. But lets get on this casenow. Bring us up to speed.
John Moranos office was a dump, a ramshackle wooden building that smelled of damp wood, fish and salt water.
The location, however, was prime. His wharf and marinas dock service business for local fishermen was located right on the Shinnecock Bay in Long Islands affluent town of Southampton. He made good money because he was smart. But he was also a well-heeled real-estate developer with not only a big reputation, but equally big plans for the future. He was sitting on a gold mine and he knew it. Hed gotten in early. Now, as hed expected, real-estate prices were skyrocketing, thanks to the construction of the nearby Shinnecock Indian Casino. It was the perfect time to act.
Morano could visualize the transformation that was about to occur. His dilapidated office would soon disappear; in its place a multimillion-dollar luxury hotel that would attract vacationers everywhere. The cash flow from his dock services would still be incoming. But thered be a lot more than fishing boats making their way to his pier. Chartered yachts would soon conveniently travel between Manhattan and here, bringing affluent tourists to gamble in the casino and be pampered in his five-star hotel.