months of being involved, they’d relegated their sexual relationship to its own inexplicable but inescapable niche.
That niche didn’t include spending the night together.
Still, what Ryan was saying now made complete pragmatic sense. It was hardly a romantic step forward. Just a time-saver and a few extra hours of comfort—hours Claire badly needed. She didn’t want to think. She didn’t have the energy to move. And she didn’t have the mental strength to battle her demons.
Ryan didn’t wait for Claire’s reply. He rolled onto his side and reached for the fleece throw he kept at the foot of the futon. He settled Claire against him and covered them both.
“Go to sleep, Claire-voyant,” he murmured. “Shut down that out-of-control mind of yours. You can pick up where you left off tomorrow.”
Claire would never admit how relieved Ryan’s words made her feel, or how grateful she was not to be alone. She commanded her mind and her body to release the negative energy, and they complied. “I’m so drained,” she heard herself whisper aloud.
“I know.” Ryan lay down beside her, wrapping one arm around her waist, pausing only long enough to set the alarm on his watch.
By the time he put down his head, Claire was fast asleep.
* * *
Upstairs in her apartment, Casey was having no such luck.
She’d taken a hot shower to relax the tension from her body, plumped her pillows about twelve times and now lay on her back, one arm folded beneath her head.
She wished that damned voice on the phone hadn’t been disguised. But the fact that it was—did that mean she knew the person at the other end? He wasn’t threatening Forensic Instincts. Even if this was a personal vendetta against Casey’s entire company, he was zeroing in on her as his target. That in itself was unnerving. But what unnerved her most was how detailed the offender’s planning had been. He’d plugged into her current investigation and where she stood on it. That took time, patience and connections. He obviously had all three. And with regard to tonight’s rape and murder? He’d carefully chosen a victim whose description matched Casey’s.
All those things together added up to a systematic mind and strategic planning—a lethal combination.
Last, but far from least, he’d made sure to call Casey either right before or, even more macabre, sometime during his horrific crime.
That added a perverse twist....
What was his motive? Was it personal? Professional? And if Casey was designated as the final target, what killing rampage did he have planned in the interim?
The questions bombarded Casey, growing more and more numerous as she lay there.
She had an impressive team in Forensic Instincts. They’d drop everything to work this crime and keep her safe. But there was only one person who had the expertise—and, yes, the personal investment—to get a handle on this case and solve it quickly.
She picked up her phone and punched in a number on speed dial.
Two rings, and then a sleepy voice answered. “Hutchinson.”
“It’s me. I need you.”
Chapter Eight
The FI team was exhausted, but vigilantly gathered around the conference table at 6:30 a.m. No single-cup Keurig today—they’d pulled out the big guns. There were two pots of coffee, neither of them decaf, already half-consumed within the first half hour of their meeting.
“I called Hutch last night,” Casey informed the rest of the group. “Unfortunately, he can’t get away from Quantico right away. But he’ll consult with us by phone and arrange to get to New York as soon as possible.”
“Good move,” Marc said with a nod. “No one’s better at profiling than Hutch. Although he’ll probably be less objective than even we are.”
“Probably.” Casey didn’t dispute that. “But it won’t stop him from getting inside this psychopath’s head.” She dragged a hand through her hair. “Let’s be blunt. We’ve been sitting here for almost an hour reviewing the details we know. We can continue ad nauseam, but we’re not going to come up with a concrete lead. There’s just not enough to go on.”
“We were invited in by the cops,” Marc said. “Or we will be once Tom speaks to his captain.”
“That’s not exactly the way it’s going to work,” Ryan corrected him. “We’ll be kept on a short leash, and told what they want us to know. This is still technically their investigation, not ours. And you know as well as I do that we can’t sit around waiting for them to toss us leads.”
“Which is why we’ll be making it our investigation.” Marc spoke for them all. “We’ll protect Casey. We’ll find the killer.”
“You can’t protect me around the clock,” Casey said.
“The hell we can’t.” Marc didn’t bat an eye. “I brought my stuff over this morning. I’ll be staying at the brownstone until we catch this son of a bitch. I’m the best qualified.”
No one argued with that decision. Marc was formidable with or without a gun. He had physical skills that scared the crap out of most people. He also had the hearing and dexterity of a cat.
“I put my stuff in the third-floor meeting room,” Marc informed Casey. “The couch in there is more comfortable than my bed. And I’ll be one floor below you. Not to mention that Hero will be in your room. Between us and the alarm system, this place will be like Fort Knox.”
“I’ll program Yoda to respond to the slightest noise,” Ryan said. “I’ll start poking into Casey’s cell phone records. And during the day, we’ll take shifts watching her.”
“That’s not necessary,” Patrick intervened. “Our efforts are needed in a proactive way. You know from our last case that I’ve got access to the best security guards in the business, all of whom are licensed to carry a gun. They’ll go everywhere Casey goes, and watch the outside of the brownstone at night. She’ll have 24/7 coverage. Ryan, that’ll free you up to run the technology and strategic end of things, and Claire to focus on her psychic connections.”
“I really appreciate all this.” Casey set down her coffee mug. “And I’d be lying if I said I won’t feel infinitely safer with all those plans set in motion.” She stroked Hero’s head. “But Patrick’s right. Running interference isn’t enough. Assuming the fingerprints turn up nothing, we have to put our efforts into figuring out who this guy is and why he has it in for me.”
“You need to make two sets of lists,” Marc told her. “One will be a list of everyone—both personal and professional—that you had even a slight disagreement with.”
“I’ll run all the FI case files,” Ryan said. “Plus any cases from your consulting days. That’ll give us the big-screen potential candidates.”
Casey nodded. “And I’ll dig into every nook and cranny of my life, every detail of my days, to add to that list.”
“The
