The Line Between Here and Gone (30 page)

“Amanda, hello.” Fenton halted. At the same time, he glanced to his left and saw the entire FI team standing in the waiting room corner.

Clearly, he was
not
happy with that scenario. He couldn’t be in control of the conversation, not when he was uncertain about what the team had told his niece. Plus, Marc intimidated the hell out of him.

As if in disgust, Marc turned and stalked out of the room.

That gave Fenton some hope.

It also gave Marc the time he needed.

He went into the men’s room and turned on his phone. He didn’t give a damn if it was allowed or not.

He pressed Hutch’s number on speed dial.

“Hey,” he said the instant Hutch answered. “Where are you?”

“I just joined Mike outside the lab. Why?”

“Fenton’s here. He’s with Amanda. We’ve got our eyes on him. But call whoever you need to. Put a rush on those warrants. My gut tells me this is a stopover to the airport. You stay with Evans. Keep him away from the PICU until you hear from me.”

“Done.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Back in the waiting room, Fenton was testing the waters.

“I wanted to check in on Justin—and to talk to you,” he said, gauging his niece’s reaction.

“About what?” With or without realizing it, Amanda was blocking her uncle’s path with her body, erecting an invisible but protective wall between her uncle and her son.

Fenton played his cards with great care. “About the future—Justin’s future.”

“The only aspect of Justin’s future I’m interested in discussing is the one where Dr. Braeburn tells me that my son is out of the woods and is going to live a full and healthy life.”

“I understand that.” Fenton went for a softer approach. “And I have no doubt that’s going to happen. Since Cliff Mercer’s plea, half of his political district has come forward to be tested. So have the student bodies of both his kids’ colleges. Between that and your online video, word of Justin’s condition is on the front burner, coast-to-coast. You
will
find a match.”

“I pray you’re right. But, in my heart, I know the best match would be Paul. That’s the person I really want to find.”

Fenton wet his lips. “Any progress?”

Amanda’s nails dug into her palms, but she remained composed. “I get the sense that Forensic Instincts is getting somewhere. But they’re reticent about discussing it with me because they don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“So they haven’t told you anything?”

“Only that they’re interviewing a number of people, including some slimy ones. And that some of those slimy individuals might be colleagues of yours.” She gazed pointedly at her uncle, awaiting his response.

He looked relieved. It didn’t take a psychic to figure out why. If that was all Forensic Instincts had revealed to his niece, then Fenton was in a good place.

“You know the kind of business I’m in, Amanda.” He went for a factual approach—but one that was devoid of self-implication. “It’s a tough one to run, and I run it. I can only speak for my own actions. No one else’s.”

Amanda had a hard time hiding her disgust. “I understand that,” she forced herself to say. “And, I know that if you had any information at all that might help find Paul, you would have shared it.”

“Of course I would.” Fenton’s stance was relaxed now. He was back on sure footing. “Are you holding up all right?”

“Touch-and-go.” Amanda didn’t have to fake the pain in her voice. “Justin is in a very precarious state. He’s sick. He’s gotten sicker. And all the antibiotics in the world can’t cure him—not without an immune system to fight things off.”

“I know.” Fenton looked genuinely concerned, which he was, even if it was for all the wrong reasons. He cleared his throat. “But, as I said, I know you’ll find a donor. Which is why I want to discuss Justin’s future—especially now when I’ll be away for a while.”

“Away?” Amanda gave him a quizzical look. “Where are you going?”

“On a business trip. I have to check in with some of the Fenton Dredging operations on both coasts. I have several large maritime contracts in the works.”

Fenton paused. “In any case, tending to my empire has made me think about the future of my company. Because of that, I’ve made some changes in my will.”

“Don’t do anything for me, Uncle Lyle,” Amanda couldn’t stop herself from saying. “In your world, money might be a panacea. Not in mine.”

“It’s not a panacea. But it does help. It’s also not about you, although you’ve been well-provided for.” Fenton didn’t avert his gaze. “I’ve set up two separate trust funds for Justin, both of which you’ll manage until he comes of age. The first will pay for any health-related issues that might arise because of his condition. You’d be surprised how many items slip between the medical insurance cracks. The second will provide for his future—college, grad school, anything else he might need. It’s a substantial sum.”

Amanda hadn’t been prepared for that. She wasn’t quite sure what to say. On the one hand, she hated taking anything from her uncle. On the other hand, the money was for Justin. Altruism was one thing. Real life was another. If anyone had learned that in the past month, it was she.

However, if any of that trust fund money was dirty…

“Thank you,” she said simply. “That’s a very generous gesture on your part. But I’ll have to think about it.”

“There’s nothing to think about. It’s done. And it’s not about generosity.” Fenton wasn’t finished yet. “It’s about blood ties. Justin is your son, and my great-nephew. He’s also the future of Fenton Dredging.”

Amanda blinked. “Pardon me?”

“I’m leaving my entire empire to him,” was the blunt response. “I have no grandchildren. But I do have a great-nephew. And I have a business empire that I built from the ground up. It’s my legacy, the only one I have. I want it in the family. So I’m leaving it to Justin.”

This time Amanda had an immediate reaction. “That’s way over-the-top,” she said. “It’s also unrealistic. We have no idea what Justin’s goals or interests will be. He might not have any desire to be a business mogul. And, if he does, he may have no affinity for dredging or for building jetties or docks. I don’t want to saddle him with that responsibility.”

Fenton sucked in his breath. “It’s not a responsibility. It’s a gift. If I don’t leave it to Justin, it will just become part of my estate, which will go to the two of you anyway. I prefer to believe your son will keep my business empire going—no, thriving—even if he opts not to take an active part in running it. It’s not just a gift, it’s a favor. In a sense, Fenton Dredging is my only child. I want it to flourish. So please don’t refuse my wishes. Should the time come and should Justin refuse to have any part of my legacy, he can sell it or dissolve it as he sees fit. At least I won’t be alive to know about it.”

Amanda had never heard her uncle speak so fervently or so emotionally. It took her aback.

“All right,” she agreed, studying his face and wondering how many facets of Lyle Fenton existed. “I won’t make that decision for Justin. He can make it himself when he’s old enough to do so. That’s all I can promise you.”

“That’s all I’m asking—and one thing more.”

“Which is?”

“I’d like to see Justin before I leave.”

Amanda stiffened. “He’s in a reverse isolation unit, Uncle Lyle. You know that. No one but a restricted few are permitted in there. Plus, he’s on a ventilator and he has a chest tube. He’s very sick. There are no visitors allowed. Period.”

“I didn’t plan to go inside,” her uncle replied. “I just want to see him through the window.”

“You just saw him the other day.”

“Humor me.” Fenton shifted, casting a quick, uncomfortable glance at the FI team. Their lack of reaction to his presence was starting to unnerve him. Especially Devereaux, who’d rejoined the group a little while ago. Why was he just standing there? The last time they’d been in a room together, the SOB had practically crushed his windpipe. Was it the restraining order? Was it the fact that there were other people around and he couldn’t risk physical violence?

Whatever it was, Fenton wanted to put as much distance between them as possible.

“I’m going to be away for a while,” he told his niece. “I’d like to see my great-nephew before I leave.”

A tight knot formed in Amanda’s stomach. “Is this your way of saying goodbye, just in case…” She didn’t finish her sentence. “Because I don’t want any of that negative energy around my son. We’re all thinking positive thoughts.”

“As am I.” Fenton shook his head. “Would I have gone to so much trouble to provide for Justin’s future if I believed we were going to lose him? No. I just need to do this. Call it a solidification of my plans.”

A long pause, during which her gaze darted quickly to Marc, then at the clock on the wall.

Marc got it. Amanda was asking him what to do. Paul was due back. And she didn’t know that precautions had already been taken.

He let her know.

Mouthing the words, “no problem,” he gave her a thumbs-up, indicating that things were fine, that they had the situation covered.

That was the only reassurance Amanda needed.

“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll walk you down there.” She turned and, staying two steps ahead, led her uncle down the corridor.

“I think I’m going to puke,” Ryan muttered, averting his head. “What next?”

“Hutch is on it,” Marc said simply. “He’s also with Evans, so we have that base covered. As for Fenton, let’s buy Hutch some time.” He glanced at Patrick. “Go to your usual security position. Watching Amanda and Fenton will be your job. Keeping Fenton here will be ours.”

“Are you going to finish what you started at his estate?” Claire inquired. “Because I don’t advise it. There are people around. Assault is a crime, and Fenton already has a restraining order against you.”

A corner of Marc’s mouth lifted. “Thanks for the concern. But, no, I won’t be beating the shit out of him this time. He’s scared enough of me so I can manipulate him just by getting in his face. As for the restraining order, I doubt it’ll hold much water next to warrants for federal crimes.”

“Scaring him off is not our goal here,” Casey reminded Marc. “Keeping him here is. You can leave that part to me. Once he walks out of that PICU, I’ll keep him occupied and off balance until the Feds show up.”

* * *

Fenton stood at the window for a good five minutes, just staring at Justin.

“You’re his mother,” Fenton finally said to Amanda. “So you see your struggling baby. I’m his great-uncle and a successful businessman. I see the kind of fight that makes a real leader. He’s going to beat this enemy. Winners always do. Percentages and odds mean nothing. Take it from one who knows.”

Amanda didn’t answer. The words of encouragement were nice. The analogy was sickening. Justin was going to be fine. But he’d never be like his great-uncle.

She shifted uneasily, wondering where Paul was and who was ensuring that he and her uncle didn’t run into each other. She couldn’t count on a disguise to protect Paul’s anonymity, not where her uncle was concerned.

Fenton stepped away from the window and glanced down at his watch. “My pilot will be waiting. I’m not sure when I’ll be back. But I’ll be checking in to get updates on Justin’s condition and to see if you’ve found a donor.”

“That’s fine.” Amanda wanted to push him down the corridor and out the door.

When they finally did emerge into the waiting room, Patrick was standing at his post, stony-faced. Marc, Ryan and Claire were nowhere to be found, and Casey was sitting and reading a magazine.

She rose as soon as she saw Amanda and Fenton walk out, and headed over to them.

“Hello, Mr. Fenton,” she greeted him coldly. “Did you come to visit Justin? Or to see if Amanda was still in your corner?”

Once again, Casey’s assertive demeanor threw Fenton off balance. He worked in construction, which was still a man’s world. Strong women were not something he often encountered.

And Casey was well aware of that.

Fenton cleared this throat. “It’s none of your business, but I came to see Justin and to talk to Amanda. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all.” Casey loved seeing the rapid pulse beating at his neck. He might be afraid of Marc physically, but she intimidated the hell out of him mentally. “Did you have information to pass along to her, or were you just on a fishing expedition?”

His eyes glittered. “I’ve made provisions for Justin. Amanda needed to know.”

“My uncle is leaving on a business trip,” Amanda provided, gazing quizzically at Casey. Now was hardly the time for an interrogation. They had to get her uncle out of here before Paul returned.

“Is he really?” Casey’s brows arched. “Where will you be headed, Mr. Fenton?”

“To my various subsidiaries.”

“Hmm. I assume your itinerary is available, should it be needed.”

Red splotches were forming on Fenton’s cheeks. He was livid. And he was starting to feel trapped.

“I don’t really see—”

“Amanda,” Casey interrupted, inclining her head in Amanda’s direction, “make sure you know how to reach your uncle. You’re bound to have good news to share with him. In which case, he’ll want to know immediately, especially given his attachment to Justin. Who knows? Maybe Congressman Mercer will be a donor match.” Her curious gaze flitted back to Fenton. “Or will he be going on this business trip with you?”

“Of course not,” Fenton snapped. “Why would he?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe he just needs a little getaway.”

“Hardly. His kids are coming home from school. He’ll be with his family.”

“Right. His family.” Casey’s stare bore right through Fenton. “The congressman strikes me as a loyal and devoted husband and father. I’m sure the same applies to him as a son—if his father is deserving.” A purposeful pause. “From what I hear, his father is a tough and demanding man. I’m sure the congressman’s loyalties can only be pushed so far. Don’t you agree?”

Fenton started. Clearly, Mercer hadn’t mentioned to him that Forensic Instincts knew about their blood ties. That was to the congressman’s credit. It meant he’d been sincere when he told FI he’d be keeping his eye on—and his distance from—Fenton’s suspicious activities.

But Casey had just taken care of that omission in grand style. It had to throw Fenton big-time to know that Mercer wasn’t quite the lap dog he’d assumed, and, more important, that Forensic Instincts had uncovered yet another secret of Fenton’s—this one explaining the leverage he used to “encourage” congressional support for Fenton Dredging.

His hostile expression said it all.

“You’re acquainted with Warren Mercer, right?” Casey asked, the vision of innocence. “Although, if I recall correctly, the two of you haven’t spoken in many years.”

“Warren and I lost touch, yes. But Cliff is a fine man, so I’m sure he’s a fine son.” Fenton was trying. But, hostile or not, he was panicking. Casey could see it in every gesture, hear it in every syllable.

Amanda, meanwhile, was staring at Casey as if she’d lost her mind. And Casey could certainly read hers: why the hell was Casey making small talk, however useful, when Paul was about to return to the PICU and run smack into Fenton?

Casey wished she could explain.