Mercy Mild—Chapter Eleven
Every little bit, Victoria would suddenly come awake. At first, she thought it might be nightmares, but she almost always remembered those, so she immediately ruled that out since she wasn't afraid when she jerked awake each time. She finally decided it must be because there were so many people in the house, so there were unusual noises because of that.
Of course, it probably didn't help that Jack was still gone, and she was still worried about him.
It would have been nice if Clara had slept in her room so she had someone to talk to when she woke, but she supposed it was probably better if Clara was with her dad so he wouldn't worry about her. It also meant he'd be there to deal with things if she had bad dreams about being stolen because Victoria might say something wrong that would only upset her worse.
On the other hand, Clara blamed Daddy for stealing her back from the bad people. Victoria understood she was worried about her mum, but she didn't get why Clara couldn't see that it was good she was safe now. That meant, for Victoria at least, stealing Clara back from the bad guys was a good thing. She couldn't figure out why Clara couldn't understand that, especially since she had to know Daddy was one of the good guys. Victoria supposed if it had been her own mum who had been stolen, she might feel the same way, although Daddy would do everything he could to get Mummy back. She hadn't noticed that Uncle Devon did much to get Aunt Ellie back, but then he hadn't been around most of the time since they were all stolen, so there might be stuff she didn't know.
Victoria looked at the clock next to her bed and wondered if Mummy and Daddy had gone to bed yet and if they would mind if she slept with them.
Not that she was scared or anything.
After all, the house was full of family as well as Uncle Chuck and Aunt Walker, not to mention the FBI people.
That made her remember Special Agent Wentworth. Victoria thought more about him, wondered if he had been a spy or a real FBI agent who just happened to be a real jerk. Daddy had gone after the man, but he never said whether he caught him or if the man was a good guy or a bad one.
Victoria rolled over and stared at one of the dark corners on the far side of her room. She was pretty sure Wentworth was a bad guy, so she wondered what he'd been after. He hadn't stolen anyone since no one was missing, and he hadn't been able to get in Daddy's office, so she had no idea why he'd been there—unless he'd been trying to see how well guarded they were. That meant they might be trying to steal Clara back, or maybe they wanted someone else this time.
Sleepily, she wondered if Jack was having tantrums over Woobie, and the man had come to look for her brother's favorite toy so he would shut up.
That thought jerked her more fully awake. Her heart raced a little, and she suddenly felt like she had to go see. She hadn't seen Woobie in Wentworth's hands, and the stuffed dog was too big to stick under a jacket or in a pocket without it being seen.
Slipping out of her bed, she grabbed her robe since it was kind of cold, but she didn't bother to put her slippers on before she raced down the hall to Jack's room.
Mummy had let her choose the color of her room and the furniture, but Jack was too little, so Mummy had picked that stuff for him. Daddy had teased her for not picking blue, but Jack liked the dark green she'd painted the room. So did Victoria. She relaxed a little as she saw Woobie on top of Jack's brown bedspread. She was about to pick it up, take him back to her room, but she heard Daddy's voice.
Slipping out of Jack's room, she eased her way toward her parents' bedroom. The door was ajar, so she peeked in. Daddy was dressed in black, and he was putting on that thick vest with the tall collar he sometimes wore when he went to work and someone might shoot him. What surprised her, though, was that Mummy was also dressed in black and holding a vest like Daddy's.
"I'll get you a different vest," Daddy grumbled.
"This one fits," Mummy replied.
"It also says ISI in giant letters on the back, which just makes it easier for them to target you." Daddy sounded really grumpy about that, so Victoria wondered if that was because Mummy was apparently going to wear something that said she worked for ISI or if it was because he didn't think Mummy should go to work with him—because the only reason Victoria could think of that explained why her mother was dressed that way was if she was going to work with Daddy.
Victoria didn't think Mummy should go. It was bad enough something could happen to Daddy, but if something terrible happened to both her parents, not only might she never see Jack again, but she'd be an orphan. She didn't want to be an orphan because she didn't know who would wind up with her, and some of the possibilities were not that good, so she shoved the door fully open. "Mummy, you can't go."
When he whirled to face her, there was a quickly masked look on Daddy's face that rapidly went from surprise to slight irritation to amusement to the blank face that meant he was hiding what he really thought. Daddy did that a lot, but Victoria couldn't help thinking he agreed with her but didn't want Mummy to know.
Mummy looked kind of mad, which she didn't try to hide at all. She answered before Daddy could, though, and in a firm voice Victoria knew not to argue with: "I can Victoria, and I have to."
Victoria looked at Daddy because she was pretty sure he didn't think Mummy should go, either, despite not saying so. He said nothing, but he didn't look very happy. Obviously, Daddy wasn't going to argue with Mummy about this. Sometimes, Victoria thought, her parents really ought to fight like normal parents. Then Daddy could tell Mummy she had to stay home with Victoria, maybe forbid her like some of her friends' dads did.
"You can't go," Victoria insisted firmly, turning back to her mother. If Daddy wasn't going to say it, then she would. "There will be nobody to take care of me if you go and they steal you like they stole Jack."
"No one's stealing your mom," Daddy told her gruffly.
"What if they steal you, too?" she demanded.
That amused him. She could see it in his eyes and the quirk of his mouth. It was also in his voice. "No one's stealing me, either."
She crossed her arms and met her dad's gaze with her own version of his hard stare. "Then I want to go, too."
"You can't," her mum told her firmly.
Victoria kept her eyes on Daddy because she knew he could overrule Mummy, so she sought a way to convince him she would be okay if they took her. She finally settled on, "I've got a gun, too, and you know I can hit a target." Okay, her gun was at home in Maryland, but the point was still a good one.
"And we'll be discussing that when your father and I get back home," Mummy said. It wasn't hard to hear that Mummy knew about Victoria's Beretta, and it really wasn't hard to figure out she wasn't very happy about it.
"You can hit a target, Victoria," her dad agreed, not bothering to try and distract Mummy like he did sometimes when he didn't want to talk about things or didn't want her to get any madder than she already was, "but these won't be paper targets—and they'll be shooting back. You stay here."
"John," her mum warned softly. Victoria was encouraged that this time she didn't sound angry. She did, though, wonder what Mummy thought she had to warn him about.
Daddy looked at Mummy. His shoulders dropped before he looked back at Victoria. "It's dangerous, kiddo, and I have enough to worry about with your mother and Jack." He walked over and picked her up, looked in her eyes. "Besides, you've done a good job of protecting the house, so I need you to stay here and help your grandfather make sure everyone here stays safe. Can you do that for me?"
She searched his face to see if he was just saying that or if he meant it. It appeared he meant it. She could tell he was kind of worried, and that decided her. "Okay."
Daddy kissed her forehead and set her back on her feet with a, "That's my girl."
By then Mummy had put on her vest, and Victoria stared at her. She realized she had never really thought Mummy was the same kind of spy as Daddy before. Usually, her mother just read stuff Grandpa V. H. sent her and then wrote reports she sent back to him. Other times she called Grandpa to talk to him about what he'd sent her, but she didn't pack a suitcase and leave, nor did she come home dressed in black and wearing a bulletproof vest like Daddy did sometimes. Mummy had always stayed home with them, and Victoria had never seen her wearing what Daddy often called gear before.
Uncle Chuck and Aunt Walker knocked softly on the open door, and when Victoria turned, she saw they were dressed like Mummy and Daddy. Uncle Chuck looked surprised to see her, but Aunt Walker frowned at her.
"Hey!" Uncle Chuck said to Victoria. "What are you doing up?"
Victoria was sorely tempted to say something like what Daddy would say to him, but she didn't want to make anyone mad or get a Talking To about the right way to talk to grownups. She shrugged and said nothing.
The grownups shared a few pointed looks, and then Uncle Chuck gave her a funny smile and asked, "Take care of Clara and Devon for us, okay?"
It was on the tip of her tongue to say that unless someone was going to give her a gun, she wasn't going to be much use if someone tried to steal them, but that would definitely get her a Talking To about being rude from Daddy and would also upset Mummy. So she said, "I think that's what the FBI is supposed to do."
Daddy snorted, one of the ones she thought meant good luck with that.
"Move out, kiddo," Daddy said, and he put a hand on Victoria's shoulder before leading the way to his office.
When they got there, Grandpa V. H. sat at Daddy's desk and talked on the phone. Daddy's friend, Agent Dietrich, was there, too, dressed like the rest of them in black with a bulletproof vest, except his said FBI on the back. Agent Forrest was there, but she wasn't wearing gear, so Victoria figured she must be staying with them.
She'd rather have Mummy stay and Agent Forrest go.
Grandpa V. H. hung up the phone and stared thoughtfully a minute at Victoria before asking Mummy, "Are you sure we can't talk you out of this?"
"I'm going, and no one's going to stop me."
The sound of Mummy's voice said not to even try and argue. Grandpa V. H. must have known it, too, because he breathed in and rubbed his good hand over his face before he sat back in Daddy's chair. Victoria's worry shifted focus a moment because he looked really tired all of a sudden, and she'd never seen him look that way before. "One of ISI's anti-terrorist teams landed half an hour ago," he finally said, and Victoria noticed he directed that at Daddy. "They'll meet you at the rendezvous site."
"Which team?" Mummy asked as she crossed to the gun safe.
Grandpa V. H. looked a little uncomfortable as he met Daddy's eyes. "Mick Faraday's."
Daddy looked really mad then, but Mummy just went really, really pale. "Dad," Mummy said, and it sounded like she was really angry.
Holding up his good hand, Grandpa V. H. said, "Faraday's team is our best, and they were between assignments. It's too late to substitute."
Victoria wasn't sure what Daddy muttered, but she was pretty sure there were bad words in there, maybe something about getting Mummy killed. Not liking the sound of that, she narrowed her eyes, stared thoughtfully at him. She wondered why Daddy was so mad, but she had a feeling it as because of whoever that Mick Faraday was and that bit about getting Mummy killed, which made Victoria wonder if that man had tried to get Mummy killed before. Turning her gaze to her mum, it was obvious she didn't like this either.
Since her grandpa got whoever Faraday was to help, she finally decided he surely must be okay. Grandpa V. H. would never let someone hurt Mummy, Victoria knew, so she wondered why Daddy didn't like the man. She looked at Uncle Chuck then, who looked like he was trying to hide something. Only Aunt Walker and Dietrich looked like they didn't know what was going on.
Mummy opened the gun safe and took out two Glocks and several magazines. As Victoria watched, she checked to make sure the magazines were full and that the Glocks were loaded. She stuck the guns in holsters, one on her hip and one on her chest just below the small, white letters that read ISI and stuffed the magazines in her pockets. Victoria noticed her motions were what Daddy called economical, which told her Mummy had done this many times before.
She tried to remember if she'd ever seen Mummy handle a gun as though she might actually use it, but Victoria couldn't recall a single instance. Daddy, yes, and not just at the gun range.
It was weird to think her mum might shoot a gun, even weirder that she might shoot a person, especially since Mummy had made her views on guns pretty clear. It wasn't that she didn't like them at all, Victoria knew, it was more she thought there ought to be limits—for civilians, anyway. Daddy always said that was because Mummy was a Communist, but Grandpa V. H. had once told her that Canada didn't have a Second Amendment right like the U. S. did, and that made gun ownership a little more complex. Besides, Victoria tended to think of Mummy as . . . Mummy. She took care of them, cleaned the house, washed their clothes, and just generally did want normal mummies did all the time. Having Mummy take guns with her was very definitely not normal.
Now Victoria wished she had stayed in her bed when she woke up that last time because she didn't like this at all, didn't like that Mummy was going to go with Daddy, Uncle Chuck, and Aunt Walker. Daddy had been hurt a few times when he went with Aunt Walker and Uncle Chuck, so she was worried that Mummy, who didn't usually do this, might get really hurt.
Her breath froze. Mummy could die.
"No," she said, and she went over and took Mummy's wrist. "You can't go. Let Daddy bring Jack home," she pleaded.
Mummy looked almost as upset as Victoria felt when she twisted her arm gently so that Victoria's grip on her wrist loosened and freed her arm. She shot a look, presumably at Daddy, before she bent and told Victoria softly, "Your father will be very busy, and someone has to take care of Jack."
"Aunt Ellie can do that," Victoria objected. After all, Aunt Ellie had been stolen, too, so it seemed reasonable that she was still with Jack. Besides, Aunt Ellie was not only a mum, she was a doctor.
"Aunt Ellie may need to be taken care of as well," Mummy said. Her mouth compressed into a straight line, and her eyes bored into Victoria's. She got the impression that Mummy was trying to decide how much it was safe to tell her. "I need you to not object, Victoria," Mummy finally said. "There are a lot of reasons I have to go, so you will simply have to accept that I am going."
"I don't want you to," Victoria whispered, and she was afraid she was about to cry. "What if something happens to you and Daddy? What happens to me and Jack then?"
As soon as she had said it, Victoria wished she could call it back. Mummy looked awful, like she might be sick. "If something happens—though I don't believe anything serious will—then you'll be taken care of, Victoria."
"How?" she asked.
"There are many people who love you," Mummy said, "so you'll always have someone with you who will do what's best for you."
About to tell her that wasn't an answer, or at least not a specific answer and certainly not the right answer, Grandpa V. H. reached down and took her hand. "Come with me, Victoria. We've got to make plans for our part of this."
-X-
It would have been very easy to seize on Victoria's sudden fear as a reason to force Riah to stay home, but Casey didn't do so. For one, his wife would never forgive him, and for another, the message that had finally come half an hour earlier had been explicit: Quinnell wanted Riah and Bartowski both. Turning up with only one meant they'd kill Jack and Ellie—assuming the rescue mission failed and they had to go with Plan B and pretend to turn them over.
Of course, Casey had no intention of playing by the rules, which was why at two a.m. they were gearing up and heading out. The exchange was scheduled for the next evening, rush hour in a public place, but Casey didn't trust Quinnell to play by the rules, either. They had Dietrich's reconnaissance, an address, floorplans, and enough men, women, and weapons to exterminate a sizeable force. Surprise would be on their side, which would make it much more likely they succeeded.
Casey might agree with Victoria that Riah should remain safe at home, but he knew his wife would simply find some other way to take part, which meant it was probably better if she was where he could keep an eye on her and minimize any risk.
Faraday—and Casey still didn't accept the man was completely innocent in Riah's shooting regardless of what she and an ISI tribunal thought—would probably have let her join his team if Casey had insisted she stay home. The man had finally found some respect for Casey's wife, something he'd like to know a little more about. He doubted it was simply the fact that Riah had figured out he wasn't the man who had shot her on that training ground all those years ago and had pushed ISI for the man's acquittal, which once more raised questions for him about what his wife might have been doing for her former employer.
Thinking about that long-ago day when she almost bled to death made Casey feel a little lightheaded. He didn't want to have to live through a repeat, let alone a reasonable facsimile of a hostage rescue gone wrong, especially if it ended with Riah taking a bullet. He had a feeling Quinnell's men wouldn't miss and definitely wouldn't shoot to maim.
There were other matters to consider as well. Bartowski wasn't very good at these situations, but with Ellie involved, there was no way he'd sit it out, either. Walker would have Chuck's back—Casey's, too—but Bartowski remained a wild card in the field. He looked around at the rest of the men and women in the unmarked transport Dietrich had provided and hoped none of them were on Quinnell's or Bridges' payrolls.
Seated beside him, Riah breathed a little unevenly. He slid a sideways glance her way, studied her pale face. Her eyes were focused either on the floor of the vehicle or the boots of the kid opposite her. It was hard to tell which. Generally speaking, when she had a goal in front of her, she didn't doubt or hesitate, but now she seemed to be doing both. He considered the variables, settled on what he was certain troubled her.
Leaning toward her, Casey dropped his voice so no one else would hear. "She was scared."
Riah screwed her eyes tightly shut a second and took a couple of measured breaths.
"She doesn't know what you're capable of," he added, but that didn't seem to reassure her, either.
"Maybe I should have stayed," Riah said so quietly he nearly didn't hear her despite her closeness.
Not giving a single damn what anyone else thought, Casey bent a little further and kissed her. "Too late now," he teased, "but we might be able to get you a cab at the next intersection."
She gave him that look, the one that said he wasn't remotely funny, and that encouraged him. It meant she was pulling it back together.
As a result, he admitted, "I don't like leaving her, either." He dropped another kiss on her parted lips. "I never like leaving any of you."
"I know," she whispered. He heard her swallow. "There's something I should tell you—prepare you for."
He shot his brows up, wondered what. From her expression, she wasn't about to confess she loved him, which would have been her normal reaction to what he had just admitted, and a part of him wished it could be something just that simple. He didn't like her obvious anxiety, so he steeled himself, cautiously nodded.
"I talked to Clara," she told him, and agony swam in her eyes. "She said one of the men hit Jack, hurt him. Her description matched Bailey Ford."
Casey's first thought was dead man. His second was the one he voiced, if forcing words through tightly gritted teeth counted: "Hurt him how?"
"Bruised face."
Really dead man. That meant the bastard probably punched his son, and Casey decided he'd make the man writhe in agony, maybe break a bone or five. What sort of asshole punched a two-year-old in the face?
"Remember, John, you need Ford alive."
"But not in one piece," he muttered.
Riah leaned into him, and when she said nothing further, not even to offer a rebuke, he hooked an arm around her. This time, she kissed him. Casey was surprised to realize that something he normally found comforting simply wasn't.
When they reached the rendezvous point, they found ISI's anti-terrorist team waiting for them. It was easy to pick out which one was Faraday, even if Casey hadn't scrutinized the man's file after the disastrous training mission where Riah had nearly been killed. Casey wasn't feeling charitable, and he really didn't like the look of the man leaning against a low wall cleared of snow at the edge of the otherwise empty parking lot. There was a sort of superior expression on his face that Casey itched to knock off him.
Faraday eyed Riah and said, "And here I heard you married your Yank and let him turn you into a little housewife, Adderly." The man ran his eyes over Riah before grinning and adding, "Retirement seems to be treating you well."
The back of Riah's hand smacked into and then pressed against Casey's chest when he took a step forward, hands fisted. She gave him a warning look before shooting a cranky one at the Canadian. "Casey," Riah bit, "and for this particular operation, I'm coming out of retirement."
"Old habits, Adderly," the other man said cheerfully, though there was a deliberate slight emphasis on Riah's maiden name. He quickly introduced his team, and Casey grudgingly did the same before Dietrich did the honors for the FBI. Dietrich then spread floorplans of the former factory where Jack and Ellie were being held on the top of the low wall Faraday had leaned against while Casey started running them all through the plan they'd formulated. Dietrich filled in what they'd learned about the number of men Quinnell had on site and the types of weaponry they'd face.
The ISI and FBI teams would mostly be used to secure the perimeter. Casey had been adamant about having his own men inside, and when both V. H. and Dietrich questioned that, he'd curtly told them, "No miscommunication." The other two men had given in reluctantly. His team would be the one to enter the building, neutralize whichever of Quinnell's men were inside, and extract Jack and Ellie.
Casey hoped like hell Bailey Ford was there so there might be an opportunity to make sure he paid for whatever damage he'd done to Jack.
Of course, he had to get to Ford first.
After all, Bartowski would insist Casey couldn't mistreat a prisoner. It was all he could do not to roll his eyes thinking about it, and he wondered if he could pawn Chuck off on one of the other two men so he wouldn't be there to act as Casey's conscience. One look at the kid, though, told him he would refuse, would insist on being there to liberate Ellie.
Casey really couldn't blame him for that.
They were close enough to move in on foot, though the ISI and FBI teams rode to drop off points. It was damned cold, and when Casey noticed Bartowski's shiver, he wondered if the kid hadn't been smart enough to dress in warm layers or if his blood was thin from most of a lifetime spent in southern California. Walker looked only slightly less miserable. Riah, though, seemed in her element, but then she loved cold weather and snow. Since he'd watched her dress, he knew she was unlikely to freeze to death in the time it would take to make their way to the former factory.
While he waited for word from Dietrich, Casey gave a few last minute instructions, and when the FBI agent let him know the outer perimeter had been secured, they moved out.
By the time they closed in on the building, he had Dietrich in his ear reporting how many men they knew were inside with the caveat that they couldn't be certain that was all. Faraday's team were working on getting a camera inside through a skylight above the area where the hallways in the addition intersected.
Casey knew entering the addition would be the most dangerous part of the operation. The main part of the building was empty, and while that would make those who crossed it vulnerable, it was those intersecting hallways that would provide the real danger. They could be easily seen as they entered them, there was a warren of rooms on each of those halls, and each room would have to be systematically cleared. If there was good news, then it was that there were several exits that would provide entry for his team, but even that was a vulnerability.
This could go wrong in very bad ways. One bad bit of information, one miscalculation, and they were all screwed.
He went over it all in his head again, knew they had accounted for the variables and had a high probability for success. It was that small margin for error that troubled him. He shot a look at his wife and found himself in sudden sympathy with their daughter once more—Riah really should have stayed home. If this went wrong, if something happened to Jack, it would absolutely kill her.
Casey shoved down what it might do to him, especially if anything happened to his wife.
In fours, they each took an entrance—exit, really, since the intent had been to provide emergency exits rather than a way to enter the building. As a result, there were no door handles, and as Casey eyed the smooth security door, he noticed there was still a lock. A short conversation later, and Dietrich said in his ear, "There's a central electronic lock. One of the ISI team is headed inside to open it."
The operative reported no one appeared to be inside, and a soft click followed a few minutes later. Getting the doors open involved a bit ingenuity without handles or someone pushing them open from inside, but they managed. Casey sent two men ahead and waited with Riah. The other two took the right hand side of the hall while he and Riah took the left. He'd chosen that side because it meant the first place they would look would be the office Riah thought was most likely the one where Jack and Ellie were being held. Unfortunately, it was completely empty, didn't even hold old furniture.
They cleared each room along the stretch of hallway, all of which were empty. As they neared the intersection, Casey felt his temper rise. Either the intel had been bad—despite the fact the cuffed assholes on their way to the FBI field office said it hadn't been—or Quinell knew they were coming and left a skeleton crew to buy time while he moved Jack and Ellie.
Just as he was about to ask for a report from the others, sounds of a scuffle came from one of the other hallways. He moved forward quickly, Riah right behind him, and demanded a report.
At the end of the hall, he took a careful look down the others, identified where the problem was, and signaled those not involved to divide and work their way there.
He was sorely tempted to ask Riah to remain where she was, watch their backs, but one look at her determined face told him he'd only delay the inevitable if he tried to insist. Casey was well aware he would lose that argument and waste time doing so, so he let it go.
As the others moved out ahead of them, he held Riah back. "No risks," he told her softly. She gave him a grim nod and lifted her assault rifle before they headed after the others.
It looked like Riah was right, that they had holed up in one of the executive offices, though not the one she thought they would probably use. The men massed outside the first door and waited for Casey. He knew the others were doing the same on the other hallway. In his head, Casey recalled and reviewed the floorplan's details. This office had two entry points. It was one of the largest ones with two walled rooms and a large open-plan but oddly shaped space that took up most of the wedge. He signaled half the team to move forward with him toward the door at the end. Very quietly, he told Walker to do the same on the other hallway.
With any luck, there would be no friendly fire incident in the relatively tight quarters that would mean he'd be doing paperwork until St. Pat's.
There were also no windows, and while that meant that with any luck no one saw them coming, it also meant they couldn't really see what was inside until they entered. Casey was concerned they might be easily picked off as they entered the narrow doorways. They'd just have to storm in and hope for the best.
When Walker told him they were all in place on her side, Casey took a couple of calming breaths and told her, "On three."
Then he counted it out, and in they went.
He heard Ellie cry out but ignored it beyond getting her location from the sound. He heard Jack, too, but it was obvious Ellie had him, so other than shooting a fast look in that direction to confirm and noting Ellie covered Jack with her body on the floor, he got down to doing one of the things he did best.
For the most part, Quinnell's men decided dying wasn't their priority, at least not this early in the morning against greater numbers, but a few fought back. Casey's men put them quickly down, though, with only two fatalities among the prisoners.
When the shooting was over and they were restraining those who weren't wounded, Casey began to consider how easily that had gone. It didn't sit well with him because that itch in the back of his head told him something was wrong, that there was more to this than it appeared. Once he was certain things were well in hand, he looked around and spied Ellie and Jack. Bartowski was already there, and Jack, recognizing him, tore out of Ellie's arms and ran to him. Victoria would have begun a streaming explanation of what had happened, but when he scooped up his son, all Jack did was cling.
They were going to have to work more on his communication skills, Casey thought, hugging his boy, who said only, "Daddy."
Easing him away to make sure he was okay, Casey saw the purpling bruise on his cheek. "How'd you get that, little man?" he asked as calmly as he could manage and touched Jack's cheek just below the bruise.
"I bit him," Jack said proudly. Casey grinned at him.
"Good," he told his son. Jack had bit his sister a few weeks earlier, and they'd been trying to get him to understand he couldn't bite people. Riah would be pissed that Casey was countermanding her admonitions, though, since she was trying to convince their son that was not the way to deal with not getting his way or with his temper.
Then he realized she wasn't there. He turned, looked around and took roll, so to speak. Everyone else was accounted for, and Casey once more thought this had been far too easy.
Now he knew why.
