The Line Between Here and Gone (15 page)

“Southampton? Why?” Amanda looked startled, and then thoughtful. “Does this have something to do with your meeting last night with my uncle? Because I forgot all about it. How did things go? Did he ask you to come back and meet with the Town Board?”

Marc gestured toward the elevators. “Let’s get you fed. I’ll fill you in along the way.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

John Morano sat in his decrepit, run-down office and shoved aside the legal documents that Lyle Fenton’s attorney had drawn up. Frustrated, he rubbed his eyes, feeling the pressure deep in his gut. He popped two antacid tablets, washing them down with a bottle of water. He wished it were bourbon. But at 9:30 a.m. with an ugly confrontation about to occur, the last thing he needed was to have his faculties compromised.

He was taking a huge risk, and he knew it. Cutting off kickbacks to the Vizzinis could backfire big-time. They controlled the unions. Teamsters. Ironworkers. Even the service workers that would staff his hotel. As a result, they’d been controlling him. He couldn’t jeopardize this project, much less his life. But he couldn’t keep paying twenty grand every six weeks for nothing. There was only so far a dwindling cash balance could be stretched. And only so much manipulation he could successfully juggle.

He’d managed to get Fenton on board, which meant he’d get his permits—at a much steeper price than he expected. Talk about manipulation. Fenton’s rules. Fenton’s profits. Fenton’s investors.

And Fenton’s pressure.

Things were about to come to a head. And Morano had to keep his eye on the prize.

The door to his office swung open and Sal, the gruff workman aka slimy mob soldier who paid Morano collection visits, walked in. He was wearing jeans and a work vest, and he had his usual toolbox, although he wasn’t expecting to leave with it filled. It was weeks too soon for that. No, today was a different kind of scheduled visit, one that had been requested by Morano.

Sal shut the door behind him, grabbed himself a chair and sat down. He plunked the toolbox on the wooden floor and folded his arms across his chest. The fingers of his right hand brushed the top of his vest pocket, in close proximity to the gun that, no doubt, was concealed inside.

Morano intentionally avoided staring at the vest, instead fixing his gaze on Sal’s pockmarked face.

“What do you want?” Sal demanded.

“To renegotiate.” Morano got straight to the point, keeping his tone and his expression hard, his jaw set. “This time by my rules. We’re done. I’m finished paying. Tell your boss enough is enough. No more bullshit. I’m cutting ties. I’ve got other mouths to feed on this project. I’ve coughed up a fucking fortune to keep him happy. Time to move on.”

Sal’s dark eyes narrowed. “You’re making a huge mistake, Morano. You need us. And I don’t need to remind you what happened to Everett, do I?”

Morano went very still. “Is that a threat?”

“A threat?” Sal shrugged. “Call it a helpful suggestion from a concerned associate. What happened to Everett was an unfortunate coincidence. You’re not into unfortunate coincidences, are you?”

“No. But I’m also not into being bled dry. You got your pound of flesh—and then some. We’re more than even. I’m done with these visits. And I want the decks cleared for my project.”

“Not happening. And not smart,” Sal replied.

“Maybe not. But necessary.” Morano rose slowly, hands in front of him. “So that’s that. Now what? Do you plan on gunning me down?”

A crooked smile twisted Sal’s lips, as he, too, came to his feet. “Nope. I plan on delivering your message. I’m guessing you’ll be getting one in return.”

* * *

The parking lot outside Southampton Hospital’s brick building was crawling with press when the FI team drove in.

“Wow,” Casey commented drily. “Mercer’s whole PR department deserves a raise. The media here isn’t only from New York’s First Congressional District. It’s from all of Long Island, Queens and Manhattan. Which means the networks and cable will also pick it up.”

“Damn straight. And not just thanks to Mercer’s press office. All these reporters have probably seen Amanda’s video by now,” Marc reminded her, studying the crowd as Casey cruised along, looking for a parking space. “Mercer couldn’t ask for better publicity. The whole crowd is tweeting as they wait for his appearance. This altruistic act of his will be in everyone’s face in minutes.”

“How are we going to get close enough to him to accomplish anything?” Claire asked from the backseat of the van. “He’s going to have security around him when he arrives and when he leaves the hospital.”

“That’s not what our problem’s going to be,” Marc said with a frown. “FI is already on everyone’s computer screen as the go-to place for anybody with information on Paul Everett. We’re smack in the middle of this saga. The problem is going to be getting to Mercer without being bombarded by the media. Once they hear who we are, it’s all over. Not to mention Lyle Fenton, who’s sure to be showing up with Mercer. He’ll recognize us instantly and stand between us and the congressman.”

“Maybe we can pull this off without identifying ourselves.” Claire was thoughtful as she stroked Hero’s glossy neck. “At least not until we’re close enough to Mercer to keep our conversation private.”

Casey glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “I’m listening.”

“You two are the only members of the team that Lyle Fenton has met. No one knows Hero or me. And we’ve both learned how to be very good actors. Right, Hero?”

Hero turned his soulful eyes on her and made a sound deep in his throat. Then he licked Claire’s hand, slobbering on her ski jacket. Clearly, he knew he was being discussed.

“I hate being stereotyped as the vapid, helpless blonde,” Claire continued. “But it can sometimes work to our advantage. When the congressman shows up and heads for the door, I’ll take Hero for a walk. I’ll issue the necessary command for him to lurch into high gear. We’ll practically crash into Mercer. I’ll act pathetic enough for his security to shift into at-ease position. Then I’ll quietly tell Mercer who I am and that we need to speak to him about that video after he and his wife donate their blood. If Fenton is with them, he won’t be happy, but he won’t freak out, because the video wasn’t on YouTube when you had your meeting last night. He’ll probably want to sit in on our chat with Mercer, but we can’t help that. At least it’ll gain us access without causing a riot.”

“Nice,” Marc praised. “And you’re right. Fenton won’t make a scene—and that’s true even if he is thrown by our talking to Mercer. He’ll be as eager as we are to keep the lid on who we are. The last thing he wants is a public spectacle—especially if that public spectacle shifts the limelight off Mercer.” Marc was nodding as he spoke. “It could work.”

“Okay, then let’s go for it.” Casey pulled into a parking space a good distance away and turned off the ignition. She glanced at her watch. “Mercer should be here any minute.”

As she spoke, Fenton’s private limo turned into the hospital parking lot.

“Go,” Casey urged Claire.

Claire leashed up Hero and was out of the car in a minute. They quickly crossed the parking lot, cutting through the rows of cars and reaching the hospital entrance at the same time as the limo did.

The limo stopped, and Fenton emerged, followed by Mercer and his wife, and two assigned security guards whose job it was to ward off the press and leave a clear path for the congressman to do what he’d come here to do.

Claire glanced down at Hero and issued a quiet command. Instantly, Hero bounded forward, nearly colliding with the congressman’s legs before Claire regained control of him.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” she said to Mercer, breathless and embarrassed. “My dog got startled by all the excitement. Heel, boy,” she instructed the bloodhound.

He sat down—but not before giving the congressman’s shoes a thorough sniff.

Mercer chuckled, patting Hero’s head. “No harm done. And you’ve got a pretty impressive dog. I wish my kids listened to me half as well.”

By this time, security had backed off and the press was moving in like vultures. So was Fenton, who was a half dozen steps away.

Claire turned her back to them all, Fenton included, so that the only people who could hear her were Mercer and his wife. “My name is Claire Hedgleigh and I’m part of Forensic Instincts,” she said in a low tone. “The team and I need to talk with you about the video Amanda Gleason just released. It’s important. We wanted to avoid a media frenzy. So we opted to approach you this way.”

Mercer looked momentarily surprised, but he recovered like a true politician. “I appreciate your discretion. I’ll arrange to have you and your team admitted through the back entrance of the hospital lobby. I’ll come find you right after I get my blood test.”

Claire nodded. “Thank you.” With that, she raised her voice to a normal level. “Again, I apologize, Congressman.” she said. “My overexuberant dog and I will get out of your way now.”

By this time, Fenton had walked around to join them, and she could feel his stare boring right through her. Talk about negative energy. It permeated the entirety of Fenton’s persona. She was not getting the same vibe from the congressman but, then again, this was all a first impression. Claire would have to spend more time around them.

She reversed her steps, half watching the congressman as he waved at the crowd and called out that he’d answer questions after he and his wife had finished up in the hospital lab.

Reminded, yet again, why she hated politics, Claire tightened her grip on Hero’s leash and jogged the remaining distance to the van.

“We’re all set,” she told Casey and Marc as she and Hero scrambled into the car. “Drive around back. Then let’s give it fifteen minutes. Mercer’s arranging for us to meet him in the back lobby.”

“Nice work,” Casey praised. “What did you tell him?”

“Only that we want to talk to him about the video. He got my point loud and clear. We’re in the hot seat and we want to know where he factors into that. He was relieved at the discreet way I approached it. That was all I said. The rest was all Hero. Who knew he was such a great actor?” Claire scratched Hero’s ears with a smile. “He not only played his part to perfection, he got a good, long sniff of the congressman. Good job, boy.” She reached into her pocket and offered him a treat, which he gobbled right up.

“Let’s talk about what we hope to accomplish in the five or ten minutes Mercer gives us.” Casey shifted the van into Reverse and backed out of the parking space. “We’re supposedly very upset about the video. We’re really looking to get a read on Congressman Mercer. But we’re not going on the attack. We’re looking to make Mercer an ally. That’ll put him at ease and keep Fenton from erupting.”

“Got it, boss,” Marc acknowledged drily. “This interview is about subtly figuring out if we think Mercer’s relationship with Fenton includes the disappearance of Paul Everett.”

“Right. And the way we do that is by sticking to questions about the video. We’ll confirm that Mercer has seen it. Then we’ll express our concern about the video not only putting us in the limelight, but putting Paul there, as well. We’ll explain that, if Paul is in hiding and doesn’t want to be found, this will only make him go further underground. We might even ask Mercer for his help in deflecting the attention off Paul and onto the baby. He can make a few public statements urging people to get tested, the way he did, to see if they’re a match. I’m sure he’ll agree to that.”

“And in the meantime, we can read between a lot of lines. Good agenda.” Marc gave a brief nod. “It all makes sense.”

“I want to hear the most from you, Claire,” Casey added. “Not necessarily during the meeting, but after. I want your take on both Mercer and Fenton. I want anything you pick up from them, insights or energy. And I want all our takes on the interaction between Mercer and Fenton. Patrick said they were stiff around each other. Let’s see if we share that perception. Are we all on the same page?”

“Sure are,” Marc replied.

“Absolutely,” Claire echoed.

* * *

Hero stayed in the van with the window cracked open while the rest of the team went inside the hospital. A middle-aged man whom Casey recognized as one of Mercer’s security guards walked right over to them.

“Please come with me,” he said. “The congressman is waiting to speak with you.”

He led them into a private office that clearly belonged to one of the hospital administrators, but which was now empty, save the congressman and Lyle Fenton.

“Congressman.” Casey shook his hand with a respectful smile, setting the relaxed tone of the meeting. “Thank you so much for seeing us.” A quick glance at Lyle. “Hello, Mr. Fenton. Nice to see you again.”

“Ms. Woods.” He gave a curt nod. “Cliff, this is Casey Woods, Marc Devereaux and…” His brows drew together quizzically.

“Claire Hedgleigh,” Mercer supplied with a smile of his own. “Yes, she and I met, along with her bloodhound. Not an easy duo to forget.”

Claire leaned forward and shook his hand, making the most of the personal contact. “Again, I apologize for the near collision. I just wanted to get to you without alerting the media.”

“No problem. I appreciate your discretion—and your creativity.” He shook Marc’s hand, as well. “Mr. Devereaux.”

“Congressman,” Marc replied. “Good to meet you. I hope we didn’t scare your wife off.”

“Not at all.” Mercer didn’t miss a beat. “I had her escorted back to the car. The last thing she needs is to sit through another one of my meetings.”

“Understood,” Marc said with a nod.

“Why don’t we all have a seat?” Mercer suggested. “And let’s skip the formalities. It takes way too long to say Congressman Mercer every time you address me. It’s Cliff.”

Casey sank into a chair. “And we’re Casey, Marc and Claire. You also met Hero. We’re all part of Forensic Instincts.”

“Yes, the name I’ve seen on every TV crew monitor I’ve walked past today.”

That took care of ensuring Mercer had seen the YouTube video.

“Exactly,” Casey confirmed, the smile vanishing from her face. “I’m sure you can understand how unhappy that video made us. We’re trying very hard to fly under the radar.” Another quick glance at Fenton. “I don’t know how much you’ve filled Cliff in on.”

Fenton looked as stiff as he had last night, and even more aloof after the tension generated by their conversation. “About your hunt for Paul Everett? Little to nothing. Cliff and I have been discussing Amanda and her baby. We both saw the video. Frankly, I was surprised you’d given Amanda permission to use your company as a contact point.”