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Everyone in the room nodded, as the sequence of events became clear. Paul had compromised the investigation-not only by getting involved with Amanda Gleason, but by failing to maintain anonymity.

“We had to pull Paul out,” Sawyer said. “We were planning on scrubbing the entire UC op. If Kirkpatrick’s people hadn’t come up with their proposal, and if the ADIC and CE hadn’t approved the funding to support it, we’d have been dead in the water.”

“Which is how you made it look like Paul Everett was,” Richard commented.

“Yes,” Kirkpatrick confirmed. “We faked Everett’s death and made it look like a mob hit. We got the cooperation of the local State Troopers, who closed the murder investigation ASAP. CE bought the shell company from the Political Corruption unit. CE took over the entire operation and supplied one of our own UC agents-John Macari, now John Morano. We’re about to bring this case to fruition. We just need a few key pieces of evidence. And with so much invested by the Bureau, we can’t afford to back off or to compromise the investigation-certainly not for the personal needs of one agent.”

“We’re not discussing an agent,” Richard corrected. “We’re discussing a dying infant. And you wouldn’t be compromising the investigation. We could have Paul Evans escorted to Sloane Kettering and kept in hiding until you complete your operation.” A heartbeat of a pause, after which he played Patricia’s trump card-the one she had briefed him on just before the CUORC meeting. “Plus, as you yourself just said, you don’t have certain pieces of key evidence. We could change that.”

Kirkpatrick frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means we can obtain the evidence we need while simultaneously ensuring that Paul Evans will not be seen or identified at the hospital.”

“With all due respect, Rich, can you truly make assurances like that? Amanda Gleason is Lyle Fenton’s niece. What’s to stop him from visiting the hospital at the exact time that Evans is being donor tested? What’s to stop anyone in the New York area who knew Evans as Everett from recognizing him? And what’s to stop these Forensic Instincts people from inserting themselves yet again and screwing things up? Can you guarantee that none of that will happen?”

“Yes.” Richard didn’t miss a beat. “I can.” He carefully described Patricia’s entire plan, just as she’d instructed him to.

The room was filled with a deadly silence, as all the attendees contemplated the proposal, glancing at one another to gauge how others might vote.

Minutes later, Richard walked into his boss’s office to deliver the verdict.

* * *

Hutch was showered and dressed when Casey came upstairs to her apartment and walked into the bedroom.

“Good morning.” She smiled, went over to him and kissed him hello.

“Sort of.” Hutch wrapped his arms around her. “I would have preferred a proper good morning to a cold bed and a belated kiss.”

“Sorry. Duty called.” Casey kissed him again, then stepped away. “It’s been a crazy morning. It’s about to get crazier. Patrick’s picking me up. I have to race off again. I wish I could share the details with you.” A sigh. “Maybe when it’s over and we’ve saved little Justin.”

“You’ll save him, Casey. I have faith in you.” That was something Hutch could say with complete candor.

“Thank you. I hope you’re right. And, for the record, I hope we can do it without jeopardizing an FBI investigation.”

Before Hutch could reply, his cell phone rang.

He picked it up off the nightstand and answered it. “Hutchinson.”

“Hello, Hutch,” was the reply. “It’s Patricia Carey. I know you’re in New York, taking a few days off. Are you free to talk?”

Hutch couldn’t mask his surprise. He’d known Executive Assistant Director Carey for a dozen years, and they’d even worked together on several violent crimes investigations earlier in her career. They’d always shared a mutual respect, and even an occasional beer. But now that she was an Executive Assistant Director, they didn’t exactly travel in the same circles. And they definitely didn’t exchange social calls.

“Uh, yes.” He glanced up at Casey, about to request some privacy. “Just give me a minute.”

“If that minute involves asking Casey Woods to leave the room, don’t. I want her there. Or am I being too presumptuous?”

Hutch sat down on the edge of the bed with a stunned expression on his face. “You’re not being presumptuous. I just don’t understand why you’d…”

“Why I’d know you were involved with Ms. Woods? Or why I’d want her participation in this telephone conversation?” A hint of humor. “The former is common knowledge. As for the latter-please ask her to stay.”

“All right.” Hutch held up a detaining palm.

Casey halted in her tracks, a puzzled expression on her face.

“One last thing before we have Ms. Woods join in,” Patricia said. “You and I have worked together in the past. I’ve since followed your career. Your reputation is stellar. Plus, I trust you. So here’s my question-I’m aware of the fact that Forensic Instincts is trying to locate Paul Everett-and uncovering a wealth of information in the process. Please put your personal feelings about Ms. Woods aside. Are she and her team trustworthy?”

Trustworthy meant different things to different people.

“In what regard?” Hutch asked, trying to discern whether Patricia meant honorable or lawful.

Patricia read his mind and chuckled. “I don’t mean, do they follow the rules. I’m more than cognizant of the fact that they both bend and break those. What I mean is, if I were to strike a deal with them-one that would benefit their client-would they honor it?”

“Absolutely.” That one was a no-brainer. “I can vouch for their integrity, beyond the shadow of a doubt.”

“I assumed you’d say that. And I’m relieved. Now, would you please put us on speaker?”

Still totally at sea, Hutch did as she asked, beckoning Casey over as he did. “You’re on speaker, ma’am,” he said. “Casey, you’re talking to Executive Assistant Director Patricia Carey.”

Casey’s brows arched. Patricia Carey was the FBI’s highest ranking female, reporting to the Director himself.

“It’s a pleasure, Ms. Carey,” she said.

“The feeling is mutual,” Patricia replied. “Forensic Instincts has earned itself quite a reputation in a few short years-along with a few bent noses here at the FBI. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Casey paused, dying of curiosity as to the reason for the call.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” Patricia said. “You want to find Paul Everett. I want to successfully complete an investigation that might require a little creative energy-all within legal bounds, of course. Please understand that the FBI is unyielding about the interpretation of legal. Am I making myself clear?”

“Perfectly.”

“Good. Bearing that in mind, I believe that you and I are in a position to help each other. Are you interested?”

Casey inhaled sharply. “Are you telling me you know where Paul Everett is and you’re willing to turn him over to us?”

“I might be. If you comply with certain stipulations in order to protect him and our investigation. And if, in return, you supply me with what we need to bring this case to a successful close.”

Her wheels turning, Casey considered the confidentiality agreement that FI had with Amanda, and weighed it against the results being promised to her. She knew very well what Amanda would want her to do.

“I’ll give you everything I have,” Casey assured Patricia.

“Excellent. Then we have a deal.”

Casey glanced at Hutch. He knew that look. She was about to test the waters. “Is Paul Everett on a plane en route to JFK?” she asked.