The Line Between Here and Gone by Andrea Kane Read Free Book Online Page A

so well hidden?
    Squeezing her eyes shut for one long, aching minute, Amanda picked up her cell phone and snapped back into the real world—the one she’d been battling for almost a month now.
    Justin.
    She pressed the speed dial number for Sloane Kettering.
    Please, God, she prayed, as she did every time she picked up the phone or walked back into the Pediatric BMT unit. Please let him hold on. Please let us find a miracle.
    And, for good or for ill, that miracle had to be Paul.
    * * *
    Casey headed up the stone path that led to the cottage. She turned the knob, and, as promised, the door was unlocked.
    The place was cozy and charming—one large and one small bedroom, a full bath, a galley kitchen, a little eating area and a family room with a brick fireplace. The back door opened to a wooden deck and a dense cluster of trees. Not exactly woods, but certainly the foliage offered privacy from probing eyes.
    Hero immediately went to work, snout to the floor, dragging Marc every which way as he took in all the new and interesting scents. He zigzagged through the house, investigating every inch of his surroundings. Marc let him take the lead. The more comprehensive Hero’s olfactory experience was, the better it would be when Marc made scent pads of anything they found that belonged to Paul. Paul’s scent would be that much more recognizable to Hero, which could be a key factor down the road.
    It wouldn’t be the first time Hero had lived up to his name.
    “It’s a pretty secluded half acre,” Marc commented a short time later, standing on the deck beside Casey and gazing around. “No houses in back. Set back far enough from the road. And with lines of trees on either side that block the neighbors’ view. Interesting.”
    “Very,” Casey agreed. “If someone wanted to stay as inconspicuous as possible, this is a good place to do it.”
    Marc nodded, glancing down at Hero, who was sniffing the length of the deck. “It also tilts the scales slightly in favor of Paul Everett being alive. If someone killed him, why do it out in the open, on a road in his car where a passerby could witness it? Why not kill him here, where it’s private, then clean up the mess, toss the body in the trunk of your car and drive it to the ocean to dump it? There’d be no evidence of a murder at all.”
    “Unless the murder wasn’t premeditated,” Casey pointed out. “If Paul met someone for an illegal dealing of some kind, it would explain the seclusion of his car’s location. And if that meeting ended violently, the rest of the police’s suggested scenario plays out.”
    “True.” Marc frowned. “It just doesn’t feel right. I’m not sure why.”
    Casey’s lips curved slightly. “Maybe because it sounds like a low-budget B movie. Besides, I don’t think Paul Everett was an idiot. And only idiots drive out to deserted, sinister places in the middle of the night to meet someone, even for illegal purposes. Paul wasn’t some random drug dealer who hid in alleys to make a drop.”
    “That would be the low-budget B movie part,” Marc said, chuckling. “I agree. From all the info Ryan’s given us, Paul Everett was a smart, white-collar businessman.”
    “Whose murder is starting to feel more staged by the minute.”
    “Casey?” Claire’s voice echoed from inside the empty house.
    “Coming.” Casey glanced at Marc. “Keep looking around. Let Hero keep sniffing out all the smells. If you find anything, make a couple of scent pads. I’ll see what’s up with Claire.”
    Marc nodded.
    Casey went back inside, going straight to where she knew Claire would be—in the master bedroom.
    “What are you picking up on?” she asked.
    Claire had been standing by the window, staring into the room, her brows knit in puzzlement, her expression shaken. She looked uncharacteristically off balance.
    “Contradictions,” she replied. “There are conflicting energies in this room—and throughout this house. Dark and fervent, light and