wait. What I can do until then is use my facial recognition software to compare the older photos of Paul Everett with the new one. It’ll take time to enhance the cell phone shot. But I’ll do it. And we’ll have stronger confirmation that the two guys in the pictures are one and the same.”
“At least we’ll be using the time instead of wasting it,” Marc concurred. “What about D.C.? Did Everett have any ties there?” Marc asked. “Any reason he’d be in Washington?”
“None that I can see. That doesn’t mean he didn’t start a new life after he took off—if he took off. Remember, we still have to consider the possibility that Paul Everett is dead and decomposing at the bottom of the ocean, or that he was dinner for a bunch of hungry sharks.”
“Uplifting thoughts.” Marc blew out his breath. “So no signs of dirty dealings? No business contacts who would want him out of the way, or who he’d run from?”
“Not yet. This was a cursory search, Marc. It was meant to give us some starting points. I only scratched the surface. I’ll go deeper. I’ll dig up Everett’s friends, business associates, partners, history—anything sketchy from his past. Whether he ran or was killed, he was into something over his head. It’s up to me to give the team something to run with. I’ll figure out if Everett was a victim or a slimeball. He can’t hide from me.” A smug grin. “No one can.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Casey faced Amanda across a table in Sloane Kettering’s institutional cafeteria.
Amanda shifted in her chair, staring into her coffee cup and stirring furiously. She was waiting for a reaction from the head of Forensic Instincts. Just because Marc was fully invested didn’t mean the rest of the team would follow suit. And having Casey Woods fully on board was essential to the urgency with which they approached the case.
Casey alleviated her worries with just a few words.
“Marc made a compelling case,” she stated simply. “The whole team feels as strongly about your situation as he does. We started working on the investigation just after midnight.”
Amanda’s head shot up. “Then you’ll find Paul.” It was a statement, not a question, one that was rife with faith that Forensic Instincts would succeed.
“We’re going to determine if he’s alive,” Casey amended. “And if he is, my team will find him.”
“Thank you,” Amanda said gratefully.
She was an attractive woman, Casey noted. But she looked much older than her mid-thirties. She also looked dazed and battered, as if she’d been struck with a sledgehammer. The hell she was going through was unimaginable. Casey didn’t have children of her own, but that didn’t mean she was immune to Amanda’s pain. Having your newborn son’s life on the line, being helpless to keep him alive—Casey couldn’t fathom anything more excruciating for a new mother.
“I have to ask you a few questions,” she told Amanda gently. “I know your heart and mind are with your son. But the more help you can give us, the faster and more effectively we can do our job.”
Amanda nodded. “Ask me anything you want.”
“Tell me about you and Paul. Where and when you met. How the relationship progressed. Where things stood between you when he vanished. Anything the police said when they wrapped up the investigation into his possible death. How much you knew about his work, his friends, his business acquaintances. Any enemies he might have had. Any personal details that could explain his disappearing off the grid. Any reason you can think of that he’d be in Washington, D.C. Where he lived in the Hamptons and anything you can remember about his place—mementos, photos, anything that might reveal something more about him.”
“Wow.” Amanda blew out her breath, blinking at the deluge of questions Casey had just fired at her. “I assume Marc filled you in on what I told him and showed him?”
“He did. And some of what you tell me will be redundant. I realize that. But I want to hear it from you.”
“Okay. Paul and I met at a political fundraiser. There was chemistry from the start. We got involved pretty quickly, and we were together for five months. He was a real-estate developer. I never met any of his colleagues. I met a few of his friends, mostly neighbors near the house he rented and a couple of his poker buddies. Paul and I were pretty wrapped up in each other. Most of the time we spent together was alone.”
“So things were good right up until he vanished?”
A nod. “We hadn’t talked in a few days, which was unusual. I assumed it was because he was busy. We were supposed to have dinner that night. He never showed. I called his cell phone all night. Then I went to his house.”
“Which was where?”
“In Hampton Bays. It’s a small cottage, close to Tiana Bay. He rented it year-round. It was about twenty minutes from Westhampton Beach, where I live. He was working on some big real-estate development project in Southampton. We didn’t get into the details. But enemies? I can’t imagine anyone hating Paul. He was easygoing and charismatic. And I also can’t imagine why he’d disappear. Things were so good between us. And I never even got a chance to tell him about Justin.” Amanda’s voice quavered. “When I think that way, I’m sure he must be dead. Nothing else makes sense. But, on the other hand, where is his body? Why didn’t the Coast Guard ever turn up anything? It makes no sense.”
“The police dismissed the case,” Casey continued. “Did they leave any doors open?”
“They said they had nothing to go on. No suspects, no motives and no body.” Amanda took a quick gulp of her coffee. “As for D.C., your guess is as good as mine. Paul never mentioned any friends or relatives there. Could he have gotten a project there? Of course. But I have no way of knowing.”
“Okay, let’s get to Paul’s cottage. Do you know if it’s been rented out?”
“I don’t know,” Amanda replied, looking puzzled. “But what difference does that make? All his things are gone. I donated everything to charity except items that had sentimental value to me.”
“I’ll need to see those items. Also, I’ll need the name of Paul’s landlord.” Casey gave the simpler explanation first. “As for the house, I’d like to get permission to go inside. I don’t know whether or not you’re a believer, but Claire Hedgleigh, one of my team members, is a brilliant intuitive. She might pick up on something just from being in Paul’s surroundings—especially if no one’s lived there for the past eight months. And she’ll definitely have a shot at sensing something from the personal items you’re talking about.”
“You’re talking about a psychic.”
Casey’s lips curved. “Claire hates that term, but yes. A psychic. She was crucial to solving our last big case, and before she joined Forensic Instincts, she was tremendously successful working with law enforcement.”
“If she can help tell us if Paul’s alive and where he is, I’m all for it.”
“Good. Then you won’t balk at my next request. Last night when you spoke to Marc at the office, you met Hero. He’s another unconventional member of our team—a human scent evidence dog. Between sniffing out Paul’s place and sniffing the scent pads we’ll make from Paul’s personal things, he’ll
