Andrea Kane - The Girl Who Disappeared Twice

“ Share being the operative word,” Patrick returned drily. “I’m not going upstairs to be interrogated.”

“Then you’re going to be majorly pissed off,” Casey answered with her usual candor. “Because I plan on firing questions at you. I also plan on giving you ample time to do the same.”

A gruff laugh. “You’re quite the force to be reckoned with, aren’t you, Casey Woods?”

“I like to think so. But this isn’t about me trying to one-up you. Time is running out. We all know it. If we don’t put our heads together and come up with some answers-and I mean now -we’ll lose any shot of finding Krissy Willis.” Casey’s pause was grim. “And when we do find her…I pray she’s still alive.”

Day Three

The medical complex was set in a section of countryside just north of Westchester County. The grounds weren’t vast, but they were well maintained, especially the colorful gardens. The buildings were kept clean, even if they appeared a bit Spartan and institutional looking.

The facility was called Sunny Gardens. And it was the best that a middle-class income could afford.

The woman sat in one of the lovely gardens overlooking the park. She gazed across the grounds, not really seeing them. Her mind was wandering to a different place and time. Sometimes her thoughts were vivid and clear, as real as if they were happening right now. Other times, the present and the past melded into one, and, try though she would, she couldn’t separate them. Those days she felt very confused, and she was happy for her medication. She also needed the nurses to explain. Sometimes they were wrong. She knew it. But sometimes they were right. She just wasn’t always sure when.

Today was a fairly good day. She understood where she was. She even had a good idea why. And she was certain that today was Wednesday, which meant she’d have a visitor. Her favorite visitor.

Her little girl.

She worried a lot. Maybe seeing her mama like this would frighten the child. True, she never showed signs of fear. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid. She was always so good at hiding her emotions.

Was that what she was doing now?

The nurse was walking over, a big smile on her face. The name tag on her uniform said Marla Greene. Marla Greene -did she know her? She must. Because the nurse was gazing at her with familiar recognition.

“Lunchtime,” she announced cheerily.

“Lunchtime?” The woman shook her head vehemently. “It can’t be. My baby’s not here yet.”

“Maybe she’s coming later today,” Marla Greene suggested. “You know how much work she has.”

“Yes.” The woman beamed. “She’s smart. I gave her extra homework to do.”

“Well, that explains why she’s late. So let’s go inside and have some lunch. You need to keep up your strength for her.”

“Of course. You’re right.” The woman allowed Marla Greene to help her to her feet, and to guide her back to the main facility. “I have to keep things straight in my mind, so I can keep teaching her. I’m the only one who can.”

Patrick drove rapidly up the highway. Ithaca was only four hours and change from his place, and he’d left the city right after breakfast. So he’d be showing up at Plainview Elementary School by noon.

Ryan McKay was obviously damned good at what he did. For over a year after Felicity’s abduction, and sporadically thereafter, Patrick had tried to find a lead on Sidney Akerman’s whereabouts-and come up empty-handed. Of course, today’s technology changed all that by leaps and bounds. So Patrick was cautiously optimistic that he’d locate Hope and Felicity’s father.

And then what? Did the man know anything, or was he just another dead end?

Patrick thought back to the time of the original abduction. Sidney Akerman had been all over the FBI from the get-go. Half the time, he’d been inebriated, but that didn’t stop his relentless quest to find Felicity. He’d cooperated fully, taken and passed his polygraph test and answered all the questions he was asked during his interview. After that, he’d insisted on being told about every lead-until time and stress wore him down and the liquor won out.

Could he have information he didn’t even realize he had-information that would tie these crimes together and shed light on his granddaughter’s kidnapping? Did he even know he had a granddaughter?

Regardless of what Patrick learned today, there was a connection between these two abductions. He didn’t know what, how or why. He only knew what his gut was telling him. And he’d learned to listen to his gut.

The sign for his exit appeared just ahead. He signaled, slowed down and turned off the highway, heading directly to his destination-and, hopefully, to some answers.

Claire jerked awake, her body drenched in sweat.

She’d been up all night. She’d gone over her notes all morning. She must have drifted off.

And dreamed.

Not about Krissy. About her stuffed panda, Oreo.

Dragging her fingers through the damp strands of her hair, Claire struggled for total recall. Krissy had been a mere wisp of presence in the dream. But Oreo-Oreo had been vivid. He’d been tangled in the bedcovers. Lonely. Crying. Sad for his best friend and her pain. Wishing his other best friend was here. Maybe together they could make Krissy smile. Maybe her eyes would light up like they always did when the three of them played-after it was bedtime and the lights were out and Krissy’s parents thought she was asleep.

For God’s sake, Claire thought, she was personifying a stuffed animal. Ryan would be laughing his ass off at this one.

How could a toy feel? Or weep? And why had Krissy been so faint in the dream? Almost nonexistent?

Mentally, Claire reached out, trying desperately to drag back the rapidly evaporating images. But they were gone.

They weren’t arbitrary. They meant something. She was sure of it.

Now she had to figure out what.

Hutch wasn’t happy.

Not just because the kidnapping investigation hadn’t turned up a damned thing so far. But because it looked as if this stuck-in-neutral situation wouldn’t be shifting into gear anytime soon. And soon was all they had.

The facts just weren’t coalescing into a viable profile. Not for a ransom kidnapping. Nothing to suggest a serial predator or an attempt at human trafficking. And, so far, no concrete evidence against any of the potential suspects who might be seeking revenge against the Willises.

To make matters worse, he had the distinct feeling that Casey was onto something-something other than her belief that Krissy’s kidnapping was connected to Felicity Akerman’s. The latter part she’d discussed with him. He thought it was a long shot. But he also knew that the Bureau didn’t have the resources to chase after it-not when there was a five-year-old girl out there enduring Lord knows what. So in the unlikely event that Casey’s long shot had merit, Hutch was comfortable leaving it in the hands of Forensic Instincts.

No, this was something more. Casey had another bee in her bonnet. He hadn’t gotten a thing out of her last night in private, nor this morning in public. No surprise there. As intimate as they were, as close as they’d become over the past year, he was a Fed and she was an independent consultant. Their goals might be the same, but their methods sure as hell weren’t.

Which meant nothing good. If Casey was onto something, but had no proof; if she thought her team could get what they needed through nonkosher means, she’d be off and running without a word.

And that worried him-a lot.

Casey wasn’t exactly off and running, but she was keeping a close eye on behavior that had first presented itself after her team meeting last night and before Hutch’s arrival at one o’clock in the morning.