Hutch saw the front door of the church start to open at the same time as Patrick did. But it was Hutch who froze with shock at the sight of Casey being led out at gunpoint, a pistol pressed to the back of her head.
What the hell… Forensic Instincts was in there, too?
“Shit.” He hadn’t been expecting this, hadn’t geared up. And there wasn’t time enough to do so now. He was already inching open his car door, talking briefly into his radio to alert his team.
“Subject is exiting the front door of the church holding a hostage at gunpoint,” he reported. “Hostage is a white female, red hair, blue shirt. I’m on the move.”
He signed off. His team would know what to do—close in and wait for the opportunity to act. But he was the closest agent on the scene and the only one with something—or someone—to lose.
He climbed out of the car and squatted down behind it, making his way from one vehicle to the next as he drew nearer to the church.
He was diagonally across from where they stood when he spied Patrick, who was also crouched down behind a sedan. He obviously knew Casey and other FI team members were inside the church and was acting as outside security. And now he was in the same position Hutch was, poised to act but unwilling to risk Casey’s life.
“Greetings, Mr. Lynch,” Niall called out, shoving Casey forward with his every step, the barrel of his gun shifting to her right temple. “I’m not certain which car is yours, but it hardly matters. I suggest that you and your men hold your fire unless you want me to put a bullet in this lovely lass’s head. I’ll send her back to you as soon as I’m securely gone. That might take a while, so you’ll have to be patient. Just bear in mind that I have little interest in whether or not she lives or dies, but I suspect you do. So the choice is yours. Make it.”
He stopped, waited.
All was still.
“Wise choice,” he said, continuing to move Casey along.
Casey’s gaze was shifting up and down the street. She spotted Patrick’s car and, although he was concealed, she knew he’d be crouched down behind it. What she didn’t know was that he wasn’t the only pro on the scene.
Hutch had waited until Niall stopped talking and had taken a few steps. Then, he’d shifted away from the back of the car he was perched behind, barely and briefly—hoping Casey might see him. And he knew the moment when she did. Her gaze widened, locked on his for a heartbeat before she averted it.
He quickly ducked back behind the car. Step one accomplished. Time for step two.
He pulled a coin out of his pocket and tossed it the three-car-length distance between himself and Patrick.
With the tiniest clink, it landed on the street near Patrick’s knee, and Patrick looked up, his head swiveling in the direction where the coin had come from.
His searching stare met Hutch’s.
A current of communication ran between them, and Hutch signaled Patrick by tilting his head in Niall’s direction and tipping his gun toward Patrick.
Retired or not, right then Patrick was all FBI. He got the drift immediately and nodded his understanding.
Ever so slowly, he rose, just until his sight—and his gun—cleared the top of the car. Resting his elbows on the hood, he shouted, “Drop your weapon, Dempsey.”
Taken by surprise, Niall veered immediately toward Patrick’s voice, spotting him and instinctively turning his gun on him.
Before he could fire, Casey kicked him in the arch of the foot with the heel of her shoe as hard as possible. As she wriggled free, he growled in pain and groped for her. She sidestepped quickly.
And in one fluid motion, Hutch rose and fired two bullets into Niall’s chest.
Niall cried out and fell to his knees. Hutch took no chances, following up with a shot straight to Niall’s forehead.
Niall crumpled onto the pavement, dead.
The FI team had crept up from the catacombs and reached the front door of the church—where Marc had stopped them once he saw Hutch and realized what was about to go down. Now, they rushed out, all heading straight to Casey to make sure she was okay. Hutch was already holding her, and Patrick had loped up the steps to join him.
Fiona stood with the others, arms wrapped around herself, shaking and still in shock. She just stared from Casey to the dead body beside her—the second one she’d seen that day.
“Hey.” Ryan pulled her to his side and gave her a hard hug. “I know this is rough. But the good guys just won. Hang in there.”
“I’m trying.” She swallowed past the horrible taste in her mouth. “I guess you’re all used to this.”
“You never get used to this.” Gently, Ryan attempted to turn her away from the ugly sight.
Abruptly, Fiona straightened, realizing that she had to use the precious few minutes when Hutch was preoccupied with Casey, and when his team was first blasting onto the scene, to do what she had to do. It was irrational and she knew it. And touching a dead body was going to make her even sicker than she already was. But neither of those things was going to stop her.
“Fee?” Ryan was totally at sea.
Fiona moved forward and, fighting back nausea, bent down over Niall’s lifeless body—just long enough to rummage in his pocket and retrieve the chalice. Then she scooted back. She didn’t shove the chalice in her purse. Hiding it was not her intent, nor would she be able to anyway, since the FBI guys were already eyeballing her and would be confiscating the chalice in about a nanosecond. But this was her family’s gift to Ireland, it was happening in front of her church, and she couldn’t bear the thought of that precious treasure lying on the corpse of a horrific, blasphemous killer—not even for an instant.
She extended her hand in offering as one of Hutch’s men approached her.
“Here, sir,” she said respectfully. “This is what Niall Dempsey was after. I’ll leave it in your custody. But please, be gentle with it—it’s an Irish treasure.”
The special agent looked a bit puzzled, but he nodded as Fiona transferred the chalice—and its contents—over to him.
In the distance, the wail of sirens heralded the arrival of the NYPD.
“Uh-oh,” Ryan muttered, looking away from the FBI team to the red lights of the approaching police cars. “Now we’re really in deep shit.”