The Line Between Here and Gone (14 page)

“We’re making people very nervous,” Claire murmured. “And those people aren’t just pros. They’re dangerous.”

“Then I say, let’s keep pushing their buttons.” Marc had that hard, steely edge to his voice. “Eventually, they’ll slip up and let us know who they are.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

It was after 5:00 a.m. when Ryan finally crawled into bed. He wasn’t going to get a hell of a lot of sleep. But he’d be getting more than the rest of the team. They’d be on the road by nine o’clock, right after rush-hour traffic. He didn’t envy them. At least he could catch a good five hours before he was needed.

That idea was blown to hell at 8:30 a.m. when the
Star Wars
theme music began blaring through his room in triplicate—from his BlackBerry, his iPhone and his Droid.

He bolted up in bed, simultaneously groping for the closest phone, his BlackBerry, which was sitting on his nightstand. The screen was furiously flashing Yoda. That meant he’d find the same name on all three screens. Clearly, it was an emergency.

“Yeah, Yoda, it’s me,” he said, waiting a split second for the voice recognition to register.

“Ryan,” Yoda replied. “We have a comm server overload. I repeat, a comm server overload.”

Ryan blinked away the final cobwebs of sleep, although he was totally confused. Why the hell would they have a comm server overload?

He got out of bed and crossed over to his laptop, quickly logging onto the Forensic Instincts server. “What the fuck…?” He stared at the huge volume of phone calls that were pouring in. “I’m coming in, Yoda.”

* * *

Twenty minutes and one subway ride later, Ryan was in his lair, punching computer keys and monitoring what he soon realized was a big-time screwup on their client’s part and a major communications crisis at FI.

He watched the video on YouTube, redirected to voice mail the incoming calls responding to Amanda’s plea, and then called Casey on speed dial.

“What’s up?” she asked, briskly towel-drying her hair.

“I’ll tell you what’s up. Amanda went public—and I mean public—last night. Our server can’t handle all the calls coming in as a result. You’d better get a bank of receptionists in here, now, or we’re in trouble. Screw that, we’re already in trouble.”

“Ryan, slow down.” Casey tossed the towel aside. “Where are you? And what did Amanda do?”

“I’m downstairs. Come on down and take a look. And then call a temp agency, or whoever you call in situations like this, and get some people in here to answer the damned phones.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Casey was already dressed. She grabbed her BlackBerry and raced down the four flights of stairs to the basement. Ryan was standing up at his desk, visibly freaking out at the number of red lights that were flashing throughout his lair.

“Yoda called me,” he explained briefly. “The phones are blowing off the hook. Wanna see why?” He gestured for Casey to come over.

She complied, staring at his computer screen as he got on the YouTube site and called up what he was looking for.

The video was very clear. It was Amanda, standing in the corridor of Sloane Kettering’s Pediatric ICU. She was just outside the window where Justin’s crib was situated, and the curtains were pulled open. The viewer could see inside and clearly make out the infant, along with his medical apparatus, through the glass. In a voice that was shaky and filled with tears, Amanda explained Justin’s condition and why it was imperative that they find a donor match immediately. She held up a photo of Paul, announcing that he was the baby’s father and the prime option, but that he’d been away and had no knowledge of Justin’s health crisis. She begged everyone to call immediately if they knew anything about Paul Everett or his whereabouts. She concluded by saying it was literally a matter of life or death, pleading with the world to save her child.

Throughout the three-minute video, Forensic Instincts’ name and phone number were posted prominently at the bottom of the screen, to be contacted on any and all potential leads.

“Dammit.” Casey dragged a hand through her tousled hair. “I can’t believe she did this.”

“Me, either. Now what are
we
going to do?”

Casey was already going through the contact list on her BlackBerry. “I’m going to call the first person on my NYU phone chain.”

Comprehension flashed in Ryan’s eyes. The whole team knew that Casey taught a biweekly human behavior seminar to a class of psychology students at NYU. “Phone chains are for class cancelations,” he reminded her.

“True.” Casey found the number she was looking for and pressed
dial home.
“But the kids have out-of-class hours they need to put in before Christmas—a fact I’m sure they’ve procrastinated away. Here’s their chance to fulfill those hours and get a great experience in human behavior.” A grin. “Even if they did finish partying and/or cramming for exams at dawn.” A brief pause. “Hi, Marcy. It’s Casey Woods. I need a favor.”

A minute later, she hung up. “Marcy’s calling the next person on the list. There are ten people in that class. We’ll get at least three-quarters of them, trust me. Our server won’t explode. I, on the other hand, might.” Casey’s features tightened. “I understand that Amanda is desperate. But she should have come to us first. Not just because it’s our phone number she’s listing. But because any hope we had of keeping this under the radar is now shot to hell.”

Ryan scowled. “Even if we got her to pull the video, it’s had thousands of hits already. The damage is done.”

“It sure is.” Casey sighed. “Well, now we know what vibes Claire was picking up on last night.”

A grudging nod. “Yeah, even I’ve got to admit that Claire-voyant knew what she was talking about. And if you repeat that, I’ll deny having said it.”

“Your rivalry with Claire is low on my priority list right now.” Casey’s mind was racing again. “I’m not the right one to handle Amanda. Not now. I’m too pissed. And I want to get my interns settled at the phones before I take off for Southampton. I need to quickly throw together an interview script. Train them to use it. Something simple, easy to follow, but designed to flag any useful leads.” She pressed Marc’s number on speed dial. “I’ll get Marc to go over to Sloane Kettering. He’s the best man for the job. He’ll stay cool. And he has a soothing effect on Amanda.”

“He has a soothing effect on everyone—except those he beats the shit out of,” Ryan muttered.

“True.” Casey turned her attention to the phone, which Marc picked up on the second ring, sounding alert and ready to hit the road. Bless the man. Once a Navy SEAL, always a Navy SEAL. He’d probably done a hundred push-ups before dawn. The man never slept. “Hey,” she began. “We’ve got a situation.”

* * *

Just after the morning rush hour, Investigative Detective Rick Jones of the New York State Police Department’s Bureau of Criminal Investigation was settling himself behind his desk when the phone rang.

“Jones,” he answered, simultaneously juggling the receiver and his foam cup of coffee so it didn’t spill over the mounds of paper on his desk.

“The girlfriend released a video on YouTube,” the voice at the other end of the phone informed him. “It spells out everything, including a photo of Everett and a plea for any news on him. The video was released at 6:30 a.m. It’s already had over a hundred thousand hits. There’s no getting away from it. Everett’s homicide is going to be in the headlines and the goddamn media will be up your ass.”

“What do you want me to do?” Jones asked.

“Pull the whole case file and work it.”

“What whole case file? It’s a couple of sheets of paper.”

“Beef up the file. Make the investigation you conducted look thorough. Backdate it. Get rid of anything that points to your passing off the case to the Coast Guard. The media’s going to be all over this. And that sucks for all of us. Is all that clear?”

“As glass.”

“Good. Now go do it—fast.”

* * *

Marc sat in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit waiting area, downing a cup of coffee and waiting for Amanda to come out.

When she did arrive, it was stiffly, with slow, weary steps. She pulled off her hospital mask, and she had the same weary expression on her face. “Hi,” she greeted Marc.

“Hi.” Marc took another slow, calm drink before setting down his cup on the end table. “How’s Justin?”

“The same.” Amanda sank down on the institutional sofa, her yellow paper hospital gown making a rustling sound as she did. “Oh.” She seemed to notice the gown and the mask for the first time. “I should have tossed these. I’ll need sterile ones when I go back in.” She dropped her face into her hands. “Why doesn’t the antibiotic work? Why won’t his fever come down?”

“It’s only been a day,” Marc soothed. “I know it feels like a lifetime. But it’s not. Give the medicine and your son some time to combat the infection.”

“And then what? There’ll be a new one?” Amanda looked up, the agony on her face too acute to miss. “He’s struggling so hard. And there’s not a damned thing I can do.”

“You certainly gave it your best shot last night.” Marc’s comment was pointed but gentle. The woman was unraveling. She’d reached out in desperation, clawing at a chance to find Paul. Sure, it had complicated their investigation. And it had almost melted Ryan’s precious server. But it’s not like their search was classified. And, as for the server, its load had been lifted. There were a bank of people at the office now, taking calls.

How furious could he be? It was her baby’s life at stake.

Amanda stared blankly at him, looking completely out of it. It was almost as if she had no clue what Marc was talking about. Then, comprehension dawned in her eyes. “You’re talking about the video.”

“Yup. Very impactful. Succinct, heart-wrenching, and great videography. You’ve got talented friends. Plus, you accomplished your goal. You captured the world’s attention. Hell, the number of YouTube hits are off the chart. And our server practically self-destructed from all the phone calls pouring in.”

“Are any of the calls worthwhile?” she asked, a plea in her voice. “Has anyone given you information on Paul?”

“No. So far, it’s been a lot of crank calls and reporters.” Marc leaned forward, held Amanda’s gaze. “Not your best idea. Grandstanding like that tends to bring out all the crazies. It wastes precious time and resources. Getting a worthwhile lead is like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“I wasn’t grandstanding. I was using my contacts to reach as many people as possible.” She studied his face. “You’re angry. I’ll pay for any damage to your server.”

Marc almost laughed, just visualizing Ryan’s reaction to that statement. “Don’t worry about the server. It can take it. We also had to scramble to get a bunch of college kids into our office to field the phone calls.” A pause. “We’re not big on broadcasting our phone number round the globe. But then, you already knew that. You also knew we’d cut you off at the knees if we’d known your plan. That’s why you didn’t mention a word about your plan to Claire and Patrick.”

“You’re right.” Amanda licked her lips. “It was a calculated risk, but one I had to take. I knew it could backfire. I told Melissa so when she first suggested it. But then Justin got worse. And I had to try. I knew you might write me off as a client. But the idea of reaching so many people in one fell swoop—any one of whom might have seen Paul… I had to do it. I’m ready to ask my uncle to offer a reward for any information on Paul’s whereabouts.” She gave a resigned shrug. “In any case, if you’re the one assigned to ream me out or kick me to the curb, go for it.”

She looked like a small, broken bird, and Marc felt another huge wave of compassion. Emotion wasn’t normally his thing, and it felt weird to be reacting this way. But a child… no, not just a child, a newborn—talk about his Achilles’ heel.

Images of what he’d seen in years past—children being torn from their parents, sold like livestock, used as human shields, shot and killed before they’d even had a chance to live—those images flashed through his mind like some heinous movie. They’d never go away. They’d haunt him forever.

And here was a mother who’d lain down her life for her child. How could he berate her for that? If Justin survived, it would be his mother’s love and tenacity that made it happen.

Marc had taken Amanda’s case before talking to his team. It had been personal to him from the start. It still was.

“I’m not going to kick you to the curb,” he said. “I’m going to tell you not to act without talking to us first, because impulsive acts rarely pay off, and because you hired us to do the job and do it right. I’m going to tell you that we need you to help us, not impede us. And then I’m going to buy you a large orange juice and an egg sandwich. You need protein and electrolytes. You’re about to collapse.”

Amanda nodded. “You’re right—about everything. Clearly, my first instinct was the right one. I never should have jumped the gun without talking to you first. I’m sorry.”

“You might have been surprised by our reaction. We’re not big rule-followers. We could have found a better way to pull off that video—a more controversial one, actually. One that could have pushed all the necessary buttons—while probably pissing off some people in the process—but that didn’t put us in the limelight. We could have set up a special toll-free number for the incoming phone calls. So don’t sell us short. You hired us because we’re the best. So let us be the best.”

A weak smile. “Point taken. And, speaking of being the best, I never had a chance to thank you. I just found out that your whole team had yourselves tested as potential matches for Justin. That was incredibly kind.”

“It was something we chose to do,” Marc replied.

“Nonetheless, I’m grateful.” Amanda drew a slow, exhausted breath, then rose. “I’ll take you up on that OJ and those eggs. I’m feeling really shaky. And Justin needs me to be strong.”

“Agreed.” Marc glanced at his watch. “Let’s head down to the cafeteria. I can only stay a few minutes.”

“Ah. You drew the short straw and had to deal with me first, then head straight back to the office to do telephone damage control.”

“Nope.” As always, Marc went for the no-bullshit approach. “Like I said, the phones are under control now. Yeah, some of us are pissed. Especially Ryan, who got woken from his beauty sleep by Yoda reporting an overheating server. He’ll get over it. We all will. But Casey thought I’d be the easiest one for you to talk to. And I’m not heading back to the office. I’m heading out to Southampton.”