Casey gave a deep sigh and sank into the bed, draping one leg over Hutch’s. The past hour had been a wonderful—and highly anticipated—perk to her plan. The problem was that now she was too exhausted to move, much less broach a conversation with a man who could see through everything.
“You okay?” There was a grin in Hutch’s voice. “Or did I overtax you?”
“Maybe a little, but that’s only because I’m sleep-deprived.” Her words were muffled by the pillows.
“Then rest.” Hutch pulled the blanket over them and tucked her against his side. “Based on what you told me, you’ve got less than two hours to sleep. So use them.” He leaned over her and scooped the iPhone off her nightstand, pressing a few keys before putting it down. “I set the alarm.”
“Thank you.” Casey’s eyelids drooped. Two hours was good. That would give her enough time to bring Hutch into the fold—sort of.
She let sleep take over.
The iPhone alarm began its wake-up trill, and Casey groaned, reaching over to hit the snooze button. Just as fast, reality sank in, and she glanced at the digits on the clock. Five a.m. The team would be here in an hour. Definitely wake-up time. She turned off the alarm and sat up. Hero picked up his head, noted how dark it was, and opted to get some more shut-eye.
“Well, that was a nice cat nap,” Hutch commented from beside her.
Casey wasn’t surprised that Hutch was already awake, his tone totally devoid of the cobwebs of sleep. He could do with less rest than even she could, and she was pretty functional without it.
“I guess I can’t entice you to stay in bed another fifteen minutes.”
“I’d love that, but the team will be here in an hour.” Casey dragged her fingers through her tousled hair. “I’m going to jump in the shower. I need to be alert, not just awake.”
“Then I won’t join you in the shower.”
“Unfortunately, I think that’s a given.”
“Rain check. I’ll brew a pot of coffee. It’ll get you into high-functioning mode and give us a chance to talk.”
“Perfect.” Casey was already on her way to the bathroom.
She needed to plan this conversation very carefully.
Ten minutes later, Casey sat down at the tiny counter in her kitchen, gratefully accepting the mug Hutch handed her.
“I hope we can find a place with a bit more breathing room,” she said, easing directly into the subject matter. “This fourth-floor conversion wasn’t equipped for anything more than sleeping quarters and a pea-sized kitchen. I know we survive on takeout, but it would be nice to have somewhere to eat it besides a cramped counter.”
Hutch pulled up the stool beside hers and sat down, simultaneously taking a swallow of coffee. “We will. Judging from the photos the Realtor forwarded me, we have a few good options that include dining areas as well as living rooms. We just can’t wait too long. Great apartments in equally great neighborhoods like Battery Park City disappear fast.”
“I know,” Casey agreed.
Battery Park City was their first choice. After scanning the internet for apartments that met their specifications, they were leaning heavily in that direction. That didn’t mean the door was closed to other options, but the Lower-Manhattan neighborhood would be ideal for their needs.
Right now, it was also ideal for Casey’s.
“You’ve done all the groundwork until now,” she said. “Contacting the Realtor, picking out a few places as our starting point, and forwarding me the photos and cost breakdowns she sent. I did look at the photos, by the way. I sneaked a peak during the few breathing minutes I had. The apartments are beautiful. I can’t wait to visit them with you. In the meantime, I had an idea, and I wanted to run it by you.”
“Ah, at last,” Hutch said, his tone utterly matter-of-fact. “We get to the real reason you wanted me here—aside from my incredible sexual prowess.”
Casey’s jaw dropped. “You knew?”
An offhanded shrug. “Of course I knew. I’m just a little surprised. Subterfuge isn’t your style.”
“It isn’t. I just… My idea is a good one,” Casey defended, sidestepping Hutch’s straightforward assessment, because he was right and there was no way she could explain why she’d handled things the way she had—not without breaking client privilege and compromising the investigation.
She was cornered and she knew it. She’d just have to push on and give Hutch the facts but steer way clear of the circumstances. He’d know she was leaving things out, but her only hope was he wouldn’t press her.
Yeah, right, she thought. Who am I thinking about?
“Your idea?” Hutch prompted.
Casey tried to read his expression, even though that was about as successful as reading tea leaves. “One of the apartments you forwarded me is in a building owned by Dempsey Real Estate Development. I’ve met Niall Dempsey before and I was wondering what you thought of my getting together with him for a cup of coffee and maybe getting an inside track on the right apartment.”
“Meaning getting pushed to the top of a waiting list.”
“Exactly.”
“And you don’t want me there why? Because you plan on charming him into helping you out?”
“Of course not. I just thought—”
“That I wouldn’t guess this has something to do with the case you’re working on.” Hutch set down his mug and looked Casey straight in the eye. “Nice try, sweetheart. But checkmate. And by the way, it’s good that subterfuge isn’t your thing, because you suck at it.”
Casey sighed, but she didn’t avert her gaze, nor did she lie. “Fine. Checkmate it is. Still, you have to admit it’s a good idea. You and I want an apartment that’s probably on a lot of people’s dream lists. A little influence from the top couldn’t hurt.”
“But walking into danger can.”
This time Casey did lower her gaze, staring into her coffee.
“How does Niall Dempsey factor into your case and how did you happen to meet him?”
“I’m not sure how or even if he factors into our case. This would be just a fishing expedition,” she replied, giving Hutch as much candor as she could. “And I met him last night at the McKays’ gathering.”
“Ah, in honor of Rose Flaherty.” Hutch was doing his own thinking, and Casey watched him assimilating the facts. “So he knew her.”
“Yes, from their church and from her antique shop.”
“Then I’m guessing he also knows Fiona McKay.”
Casey nodded, starting to regret bringing this up to Hutch at all. But she was about to use their personal lives as an excuse to get information for their client. And she felt the need to at least clue him in to the meeting, if not the full basis for it.
“You could tell me what’s going on,” Hutch said. “On the other hand, I could just run Niall Dempsey’s name myself.”
“But you won’t. I know you better.” Casey set down her own mug and spread her hands wide. “Besides, you’d probably come up empty.” She shook her head in frustration. “Dammit, Hutch, I’ve already put us both in an untenable situation. I’m breaking client confidentiality and you now know more than you should.”
“You said you have no evidence of Dempsey’s involvement.”
“And that’s the truth.”
“Then I have nothing I feel compelled to report—even if I’m sure the NYPD detectives have zero awareness of your suspicions.” Hutch seized her hand. “Casey, I love you. I worry about you. This isn’t a case of one-upmanship. I just don’t want you socializing with a potential murder suspect.”
“We have no facts that say he’s a killer. I promise you that.”
“Which means you’re reacting to something Claire sensed.”
Casey rolled her eyes. “You’re relentless. Let me do my job. And in the process, I might land us a great apartment.”
“Fine.” Hutch blew out a frustrated breath. “Just tell me this—does Patrick have security detail on you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now tell me you’ll meet Dempsey in a public place.”
“I will.” Casey interlaced her fingers with Hutch’s. “I’ll be just fine.”
“You’d better be. I’m not happy about this case. You’re being way too cryptic. You’re always direct. You either fill me in or shut me down.”
“It’s not intentional,” she replied. “Frankly, I’m not sure what I know and what I don’t. This case is like a moving puzzle. We have to fit pieces together to solve it. And right now we don’t understand the pieces, much less how they interconnect.”
A hint of a smile curved Hutch’s lips. “A puzzle, huh? Well, no one’s better at solving puzzles than you. You beat my ass at Anagrams every time we play.”
“True.” Casey smiled. No matter how many apps they downloaded, nothing beat the good old board game they both loved. “It’s great to be quicker than you at some things. I sure did a lousy job of that last night. Although I promise you the booty call part was for real.”
“Never doubted it. As for the rest, I understand your predicament. And I appreciate your trying to be honorable about meeting with Dempsey. It’s our lives you’re discussing, even if it is to help solve your case.”
“It’s not that cut and dried,” Casey assured him. “Do I want to suss the guy out? You bet. But do I want to gain his influence to land us the apartment we want? Without question. The man is a powerhouse. That’s a fact. Everything else is supposition.”
“Then you’re forgiven.” Hutch leaned over and kissed her. “By the way,” he asked, taking a final belt of coffee, “before you reconvene, can I meet Fiona?” He held up his hand to ward off her oncoming protest. “I don’t mean in an official capacity. I’m just curious what kind of a sister could put up with Ryan.”
“A very tolerant one.” Casey swallowed the last of her own coffee and rose. “And as an aside, you’re not fooling me any more than I fooled you. While you’re meeting Fiona, you’ll be assessing her body language, her state of mind, and who knows what else. Well, you’re not going to find anything but a terrific young woman who’s strong but scared, both of which she should be. So I’ll introduce you, but only if you promise to be my boyfriend and not SSA Hutchinson. At least not overtly.”
“I can manage that.” Hutch put down his empty mug, as well. “I’ll grab a shower. Then I’ll wait up here until the team arrives and you’ve had a chance to give them a heads-up. Once you give me the okay, I’ll leash Hero up and just say hi as I take him out for a run. Deal?”
“Deal.” Casey reached up to give him a kiss. “FYI, Fiona is gorgeous. Don’t make me challenge her to a duel.”
Hutch threw back his head in laughter. “Not a chance, sweetheart. With the way I feel about you, you can put away your pistols.”
***
Kelly’s was dark when Niall and Donald settled themselves in the back room.
“Our computer guy cut through a lot of personal bullshit on Fiona McKay’s hard drive, but all her photos are stored on iCloud. He said there’s a password he needs to crack and it’s not the same as the one our guys found on that Post-it in her townhouse,” Donald said. “There are also no emails between the old lady and the girl—I guess the old lady was behind the times. So this process is obviously going to take a lot longer than we had hoped. To be honest, I’m getting the feeling from this kid that he’s talking more if than when. Which means you may never get those pictures.”
Niall swore, pulling out his cell phone and scrolling through the two grainy pictures he had: the panel Rose had been researching and the Galway sheep panel that had been hanging in the McKays’ living room. Not much to go on. Then again, he knew exactly what he was searching for. Forensic Instincts most likely didn’t.
He made a decision.
“I researched everyone on Rose’s contact list,” he told Donald, tearing off a corner of a napkin and scribbling down some information, after which he stuffed the paper in Donald’s hand. “And this professor emeritus at the University of Dublin is the most noted expert in what I need. Get him here right away. Do whatever it takes to make that happen.”