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

it seemed oddly hollow, despite the animal-babies wallpaper and linen, the matching mobile over the crib and the flowing primary-colored accents that decorated the room.
    Amanda turned away from the nursery as quickly as possible, barely even crossing the threshold. Her pain was a palpable entity that all four of them—including Hero—picked up on. He made a small whining noise, ceasing only on Marc’s quiet command.
    “This is home,” Amanda concluded with a wave of her arm. She paused, following the others as Claire wandered back into the master bedroom.
    “Paul’s presence is strong here,” Claire commented. “Even though he spent less time here than in his cottage. My guess is that this is where he felt most comfortable, most able to be himself.”
    “Which self?” Amanda asked in a bitter tone.
    “The self that loved you.” Claire placed a gentle hand on Amanda’s arm. “May I see those personal items we talked about?”
    “Of course. I’ll get them.” Amanda hurried down the hall to the coat closet in the foyer. She stood on tiptoe, rummaging around in the back of the top shelf.
    Casey wasn’t surprised by the location of Paul’s things. Amanda had obviously distanced herself and her intimate, personal space with the impersonal, across-the-apartment placement of the coat closet. It was another way to push away Paul’s memory and to sever her emotional ties to him as best she could.
    Meanwhile, Casey used these few minutes wisely, since they were the first ones she’d had alone with her team since Ryan’s call. “Marc, I need you to stay out here another day. I’ll brief you while Amanda’s with Claire. Hero will come home with us.”
    Marc nodded, accepting Casey’s request without questions. He’d reserve those for later, when time permitted.
    Casey then turned to Claire. “What was gnawing at you when we were at Lake Montauk?” she asked bluntly. “You stopped in your tracks and looked around, not once, but a couple of times. What were you sensing?”
    Claire frowned. “Danger. And not past danger, imminent danger. It was very disturbing. But it was distinct. It was out there somewhere—somewhere close by.” She paused, her brow furrowed. “I think we were being watched.”
    “Watched,” Casey repeated. “By whom?”
    “I don’t know. But whoever it was— As I said, there’s danger.”
    “Then I’m glad I brought my gun,” Marc said calmly. “No one’s getting near Amanda. Or us,” he added. He looked at Casey. “You sure you want me to stay behind? It might be better if I went with you.”
    Casey gave a hint of a smile. “Thanks, Mr. Bodyguard, but we’ll be fine. We’re not going to say a word about this to Amanda. No need to alarm her. And I have my Glock with me, too.”
    Marc arched a brow. “You’re a ball-breaker, Casey, but you’re also five foot four and petite, not to mention untrained in hand-to-hand combat. If someone is following us, I’m a lot more qualified to do significant bodily harm and to scare the shit out of them.”
    “I’ll have to take that chance. I need your skills out here.”
    At that moment, Amanda returned from the hall, the handles of a small, somewhat crumpled shopping bag in her hand.
    “Here they are.” She extended the bag to Claire.
    Claire took it and sank down on the edge of the bed as she removed the items one by one. First, the sunglasses case, then the unwrapped peppermint candies, and finally the suction-cup heart. She lingered over each item, starting with the eyeglasses case.
    “Blood,” she murmured. “The image of a car seat saturated with blood is strong. This eyeglasses case must have been near the driver’s seat.”
    “It was,” Amanda confirmed.
    Claire’s expression intensified. “I keep getting the same conflicting vibes. Darkness and light. Resolve and hesitation. And pain. Not just physical pain, emotional pain. Regret—and yet, purpose. It’s like Paul was perpetually torn in two about who he