he pulled over his pad and started scribbling. “We’ve got two main possibilities here. Either Paul Everett was paying someone off like Marc said, or he was being blackmailed by someone who had dirt on him. Either one could get him killed or convince him to disappear.”
“So much for true love conquering all,” Claire murmured.
“Self-preservation trumps true love plus a whole lot more,” Ryan replied tersely. “And murder trumps everything. If I’m wrong—and I’m not—and Paul Everett’s at the bottom of the ocean, he didn’t exactly have a lot of choice about whether or not he hung around for Amanda.”
“I get that.” Claire looked thoughtful. “I wasn’t suggesting that Paul should have—or could have—stuck around. I was just wondering if the relationship between him and Amanda was even real, or if he was just using her as a cover for whatever he was involved in.”
“Good point.” Casey’s eyes narrowed as she scrutinized Claire. “Is that a random question or a feeling?”
“A random question. It’s way too soon for me to have a connection with any of this. I haven’t even met Amanda, much less gotten into her personal space or feelings.”
“That’s about to change.” Before she elaborated, Casey turned back to Ryan. “Anything else?”
“Yup. Much as I hate to admit it, Claire’s theory might have merit.” Ryan sounded as if he might choke on his words. “Amanda’s uncle is Lyle Fenton. He’s a business tycoon who also happens to serve on the Southampton Board of Trustees. If Everett wanted to score points with him in order to get his building permits, it could be why he hooked up with Amanda. The fundraiser they met at was for Congressman Clifford Mercer. Amanda was freelancing for the guy. Her uncle got her the job. Everett could have easily found that out and made a donation to the campaign. That would have gotten him an invite.”
“A congressman serves in Washington, D.C.,” Casey noted thoughtfully. “Marc, you called Amanda’s photographer friend, didn’t you?”
“Sure did.”
“Where exactly was that recent D.C. photo taken?”
“Second Street at C Street NE.”
“Which is just a little over half a mile from the Capitol Building.”
“And about a million other places,” Ryan reminded her. “Casey, that’s the business hub of D.C. It’s a leap to assume Paul Everett was going to see Mercer.”
“You’re right.” Marc’s brows drew together. “But it’s not out of the realm of possibility. Just because Everett vanished, doesn’t mean he’s given up on building that hotel. Like Ryan said, it’s a gold mine. With Everett’s ties to Amanda and her uncle severed, Mercer’s a shrewd and logical person to win over to his side. He represents District One. That includes the Hamptons. Maybe Everett is looking for a more influential—and long distance—way to get what he wants without tipping off the wrong people to the fact that he’s alive.”
“We’re all speculating.” Casey gulped the last of her coffee and set down the mug, mulling over a list of assignments she’d drawn up. “It’s time to act and find some answers. Here’s what I propose—Patrick, you go down to D.C. and see what you can dig up. If you’re down there for more than a day and have something solid to go on, one of us will join you. In the meantime, Claire, Marc and I are going on a field trip to the Hamptons with Amanda. We’re taking Hero with us.”
At the sound of his name, Hero’s head came up and he watched Casey attentively.
“We’ve got to search Paul’s place and make scent pads for Hero to sniff. We’ve also got to drive out to Montauk and visit the crime scene. On the way back, we’ll stop by Amanda’s apartment and get some personal items of Paul’s for Claire to work with, plus hit some of the spots that Paul and Amanda used to go together.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if I went with Patrick to D.C.?” Marc asked. “Two former Bureau agents have twice the contacts and twice the resources.”
“Probably,” Casey conceded. “But I need you here for several reasons. Number one, you’ll make things happen.”
“In other words, he can break into houses and businesses, or question people under false pretenses,” Patrick put in wryly.
A grin tugged at Casey’s lips. “Actually, I have permission from the owner to search the house Paul rented. As for the rest—who knows what might come up? Another reason I need Marc here is because Amanda trusts him. For whatever reason, she is comfortable with him and turns to him for support. We need to use that to our advantage. This whole excursion to the Hamptons is going to have to be quick and productive. Amanda doesn’t want to be away from her baby for long, and I don’t blame her. So we leave in an hour. Ryan, you keep digging, and text me anything you find. Patrick, catch the first flight to D.C. Is everyone okay with that plan?”
“Yup.” Marc answered for all of them.
“Good. Then let’s make this thing happen.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The Hamptons were quiet.
If this had been July, Montauk Highway would have been a parking lot, and getting through the bumper-to-bumper traffic would have been a nightmare of untold proportions. All the rich, beautiful people with summer “cottages”—a euphemism for multimillion-dollar estates—would have been heading out here to enjoy the Hamptons’s elite shopping, popular clubs and private beaches. They were the Citidiots, as the locals called Manhattanites—the semiannual residents who helped define the Hamptons as a finely manicured alternate world, a playground for the mega-rich.
But, thankfully, it wasn’t July. It was December, way off-season, and only the sparse population of full-time residents were out here. All the better for the Forensic Instincts team. No crowds, the ability to move faster and more productively, and fewer false leads. Besides, Amanda and Paul’s relationship had happened off-season. So this was the best way to recreate the scenario, witnesses and all.
Their first stop was Hampton Bays and the cottage Paul had rented.
Farther out on Long Island than Amanda’s Westhampton Beach apartment, Hampton Bays was a combination of modest and expensive homes, nestled between Westhampton and Southampton. Right now it was sleepy, strung with Christmas lights that would be beautiful after sunset, but one couldn’t help but imagine how hopping the place would be during the summer season. The beaches along the bay were beautiful, and it was a hop, skip and a jump to dining, shopping and nightlife.
The FI team had made a joint decision with Amanda to drive out to Paul’s cottage first, then forty-five minutes away, out to Lake Montauk and the spot where Paul’s car had been found. After these two site visits, they’d backtrack and stop at Amanda’s apartment on the way home. The reasoning was simple: Amanda and Paul had spent more time at his place than at hers. And since Lake Montauk was the crime scene, Casey and Marc could search the area from there to Gosman’s Dock, checking for anything the police had overlooked—assuming they’d really been looking. At the same time, Hero could learn Paul’s scent, and Claire could immerse herself in Paul’s surroundings and see if she picked up on his energy. Whatever personal items of his that Amanda had kept, particularly those with sentimental value, were at her place, and would be sifted through on the return trip.
Casey
