Andrea Kane - The Girl Who Disappeared Twice

It was time to go somewhere the FBI task force hadn’t been.

Casey was surprised to find Vera Akerman alone in the living room. She was sipping a cup of tea, perched at the edge of the sofa.

“Mrs. Akerman,” Casey greeted. “Where’s Hope?”

The older woman looked up, gave a faint sigh. “She went for a drive. After spending the past hour alone in Krissy’s room, she needed some air. Some time by herself. To think. To pray for strength. To get away from the pandemonium. My guess? She’s parked at Krissy’s school, crying her eyes out.”

“I understand.”

“I doubt that.” The words were said factually, without bitterness or accusation. Vera glanced up and met Casey’s gaze. “Do you have children?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then you can’t possibly understand. Not the depth of love a mother feels for her child, and certainly not the unbearable pain of possibly losing her. Knowing she’s out there somewhere in the hands of a monster, and there’s not a thing you can do, except pray. Hope would gladly trade her own life for Krissy’s. But she’s not being given that choice. All she can do is wait-and die a little each minute that passes.”

“You’re right. I can’t understand. And I apologize for my lack of sensitivity.” Casey gestured toward the chair, asking permission to sit.

Vera nodded.

Casey lowered herself to the armchair. “I can’t know what Hope is going through, or what you endured and are being forced to endure again. All I can do is sympathize and work my heart out to bring Krissy home.”

Hope’s mother set down her cup. “It’s my turn to apologize. I didn’t mean to be rude. I know how hard you’re working to help my daughter. My nerves are just raw. It’s like reliving a nightmare.”

“You don’t have to explain.” Mentally, Casey ran through some of the information Patrick Lynch had given her. She leaned forward. “Mrs. Akerman, I won’t do anything to make this worse for you. But would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”

“About Sidney.”

“More about what life was like right around the time that Felicity was taken.”

A pained expression. “Beforehand I can tell you about. It’s afterwards that I can’t. The memories went from horrifying to numb to blurry. The doctors tell me I went through severe post-traumatic stress disorder. I call it a nervous breakdown. I got out of bed each morning and went through the motions. I had to, for Hope. But the rest-it’s like I stopped living. So did Sidney. We just stopped in different ways. And now…” Vera pressed trembling hands to her cheeks. “Why is this happening again? Why is my family cursed? Why?”

Casey didn’t even try to offer an answer. “Beforehand, your family was happy?”

“Very. We were an average family. Sidney had a good job. I was on the PTA. The twins were well-adjusted. Hope was the reader who loved school, and Felicity was the athlete who loved games and sports. Still, they were incredibly close. If someone hurt one of their feelings, he or she had the other twin to contend with.” A reminiscent smile. “That last summer, Felicity broke her arm. She was devastated that she couldn’t play soccer. Hope arranged for everyone at camp to sign her cast. And when the cast came off, Hope asked if we could give Felicity a freedom party. That’s the kind of relationship they had.”

“Hope must have been traumatized by her sister’s kidnapping.”

“More than even she realized. She was next to Felicity in bed when it happened. The kidnapper drugged both girls, then took Felicity. I still don’t know if he chose her intentionally, or whether he only had time to grab one twin and get out before he was discovered.” Vera’s lips quivered. “All our friends, and all the mothers from camp, came over and kept vigil with me. They prayed. They brought food. Hope wouldn’t even come out of her room. Not to eat. Not to talk. It was only when I-and my marriage-started to deteriorate that she forced herself to come out of her shell and became part of our lives again. She was a brave little girl, far stronger than I was. Even after her father left.”

Casey made a mental note to explore the friends and camp mothers with Patrick. But it was obvious that Hope’s mother had had enough.

“Mrs. Akerman, let’s call it a day,” she said gently. “We can talk again tomorrow. In the meantime, I have some additional avenues I want to pursue.”

And she did.

Next on the agenda-meeting up with Marc and exploring every square inch of Claudia Mitchell’s house.

Ashley was preparing a light dinner for the family and the on-site members of the task force, when Edward stalked into the kitchen and seized her arm.

“The detectives tell me that you spent time comforting Hope in Krissy’s bedroom,” he said in a hard whisper. “And Hope has been acting odd and aloof since I got home. What did you tell her during your heart-to-heart?”

Wincing, Ashley pulled her arm away. “Nothing. I’m not stupid, Edward. I haven’t told a soul.”

He studied her for a long moment, eyes narrowed. “You’re sure?”

“Positive. The only topic we discussed was Krissy.”

“Good. Keep it that way. Remember, one wrong word from you and my marriage and your job will blow up. Not to mention that we’ll zoom to the top of the FBI’s suspect list. Krissy’s rich attorney father, his young mistress, and his precious daughter take off for parts unknown, after a brilliant plan masterminded by Edward Willis.”

“I think you’re overreacting.” Ashley’s tone was in direct contrast to the frightened expression on her face.

“Trust me, I’m not. I’m a lawyer. I know how law enforcement thinks. Don’t give them food for thought. They’ll gobble you up.”

“I won’t.” Tears glistened on Ashley’s lashes. “I already feel guilty enough about what we’re doing to Judge Willis. And now Krissy’s abduction…” She broke off, swallowing to regain her composure. “But I know the rules. And I’ll play by them. With the authorities, and with your wife.”

“You do that. The alternative won’t be pleasant.”

Patrick Lynch was too good a former FBI agent not to know that Casey Woods’s idea of pushing the boundaries and his own were very different.

He’d shared a good chunk of information on Felicity Akerman’s kidnapping with her, and agreed to share his notes and the file. She, in turn, had filled him in on everything she had on Krissy Willis’s abduction, and all the avenues that she and her team were pursuing-both the ones that were in conjunction with the authorities and the ones that weren’t.

She’d omitted more than a few details. Then again, so had he. Trust wasn’t something you developed in one conversation. It took time, and lots of it. So Lynch had kept certain cards close to his vest, and he was sure Casey was doing the same.

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she and her team were heavily pursuing Hope Willis’s former court clerk, Claudia Mitchell. He understood why. Their reasoning had merit. Their methods, on the other hand-well, those he had a hunch would be teetering on the brink of illegal.

He couldn’t be a part of it.

On the other hand, there was no saying he had to stop it.

It was just after dark when Casey and Marc parked their car under a canopy of trees a half block down from Claudia Mitchell’s house. They were both dressed in black sweatshirts and jeans. They looked perfectly ordinary, and were hardly noticeable in the darkness. Marc carried his tools in a sport waist pack.

They approached the front door like casual visitors and rang the bell.

As expected, there was no response.

A second ring.