Andrea Kane - The Girl Who Disappeared Twice

“None of which have produced any results. Now that Forensic Instincts is focusing entirely on this angle, I feel as if we might get somewhere. Joe Deale isn’t the only mob employee. Plus, he was a baby thirty-two years ago. Maybe Felicity’s and Krissy’s kidnapper was the same person. Maybe he’s Agent Lynch’s age.”

“That doesn’t fit the BAU’s profile.”

“Profiles are based on rigorous analysis of evidence. But they’re not exact.”

“Neither are gut instincts.”

“So, once again, we agree to disagree.”

“It would seem that way,” Edward said with a not undetectable amount of scorn in his voice.

The silence in the car resumed.

Hope was exhausted when they arrived home. She went directly upstairs, leaving Edward to nurse his snifter of brandy. Once she was on the second floor, she stopped in Krissy’s room, just as she had the past two nights. Flipping on the light, she looked around, her gaze instinctively going to the bed, where her baby would now be asleep. Her chest gave that awful squeeze, and the rush of panic surged through her.

Two days. It had been two full days since Krissy was abducted. How in the name of heaven could she still be…

No. Hope gave a hard shake of her head. She couldn’t allow herself to consider the implications of her daughter being missing this long. She had to believe that Forensic Instincts, if not law enforcement, would find Krissy and bring her home, safe and sound. They had to.

She turned off Krissy’s light and headed wearily down the hall to the master bedroom suite. She ached everywhere, inside and out. But she didn’t have the wherewithal to soak in a tub. So she’d take a quick, hot shower and slide into bed. Then she’d lie there, her eyes burning, for yet another sleepless night.

It didn’t play out that way.

Crossing the threshold, Hope didn’t even have a chance to turn on a lamp before she heard a thump as she tripped over a solid object. She regained her balance and reached for the overhead light switch.

Light flooded the room.

Collapsed in a crumpled heap on the carpet just inside the doorway was Ashley.

“Oh my God.” Hope dropped to her knees, shaking Ashley in a reflexive motion. “Ashley! Ashley, can you hear me?” She leaned sideways toward the door, yelling at the top of her lungs. “Help! Somebody help me!”

There was a pounding of footsteps, and Special Agent Dugan burst into the room, Edward at his heels. They both instantly saw Ashley’s limp figure.

“Call 9-1-1,” Dugan instructed Edward, whose entire face had gone white. The agent crouched down, gingerly examining Ashley. “I’ve got a pulse,” he announced. “It’s strong and steady. I don’t see any indication of a puncture wound, and there’s no pool of blood. That means no knives or guns. And no contusions around the throat, so no strangling.” He paused as his hand lightly touched the back of Ashley’s head, and withdrew with blood on his fingertips. “She was struck from behind with a heavy object. She’s bleeding, and she’s got a whopper of a bump.” He paused, spotting the weighty sculpture lying on the floor. “There. That must be the weapon. No one touch it-it’s evidence. In fact, don’t touch anything in this room. There might be fingerprints.”

Hope complied, staying perfectly still on her knees on the floor. Meanwhile, Edward was supplying the necessary information to the emergency operator.

As he hung up, Ashley gave a low moan and began to stir.

“Ashley.” Very gently, Hope stroked her cheek. “Can you hear me? Are you all right?”

Slowly, groggily, Ashley opened her eyes. “Judge Willis?” she asked in confusion. She tried to sit up, and groaned in pain, her hand automatically flying to the back of her head. “My head…it’s killing me.” She turned white when she saw the blood on her hand. “Oh God…”

“It’s okay,” Hope told her soothingly. “You took a hard hit. But you’ll be fine. The EMTs are on their way.”

“EMTs?” Ashley blinked. “What happened?”

“You tell us,” Agent Dugan instructed. “Someone obviously got into this room and assaulted you.” He frowned. “Whoever it was must have come up the back stairs. I was in the living room.”

“What about the burglar alarm?” Edward asked. “I thought we activated it before we went out. And, even if we didn’t, all the doors were locked.”

“I have no answers for you yet, Mr. Willis. But, I assure you, we’ll find them.”

“All I remember was hearing a noise and going to check into it,” Ashley told them, her eyes squeezed shut against the pain. “Krissy’s room was empty. It looked as if it hadn’t been touched. When I got down here, I stepped in…and that’s all I remember. No-there was a blinding explosion of pain in my skull. I saw colors, lights. I felt like I was going to throw up. After that, I must have lost consciousness.”

“Did you see your assailant?”

“No.” Clearly, Ashley was struggling to remember. “Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow. I heard breathing. I never had the chance to turn around, or even to react.” Another groan. “I’m sorry.” She held both sides of her head. “It just hurts so much.”

“I’m sure you have a concussion,” Dugan said.

“And maybe some internal bleeding.” Edward glanced impatiently at his watch. “I wish the paramedics would get here.”

As he spoke, the sound of sirens reached their ears, and a minute later the EMTs rushed in. They took Ashley’s vitals, lifted her onto a stretcher and carried her out to the ambulance.

“I’ll ride with you,” Hope said at once.

“No.” Agent Dugan stopped her. “Once ERT has checked the crime scene, I need you here to see if anything is missing.”

“I’ll go with Ashley,” Edward offered. “I’ll keep you posted on her condition. You keep me posted on what your Evidence Response Team turns up, and if the bastard who broke in here took anything that could lead us to Krissy. He sure as hell didn’t risk getting caught for nothing.”

“I agree. He took quite a risk.” Dugan was frowning, his professional gaze scanning the room, as he pressed a speed-dial button on his phone. “Very soon we’ll have a full house, and hopefully some answers.”

Casey and Hutch practically collided into each other in the front doorway of the Willis house.

“So Hope Willis called you the minute she got home.” Hutch’s words were a statement, not a question. And it wasn’t a happy one.

“Of course she did. She’s my client,” Casey replied curtly.

“Not now, you two,” Grace said, urging them into the house. “Later, you can kill each other. Now, we have a job to do.”

They went upstairs to find ERT packing up to leave, and Hope speaking to Don Owens and several CARD team members, along with SAs Peg Harrington and Will Dugan, and Sergeant Sam Bennett of the North Castle Police Department.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” Hope’s face flooded with relief when she saw Casey. Her reaction came as no surprise. It was very common for Forensic Instincts’ clients to develop a personal attachment and to cling to them as a lifeline.

“What happened?” Hutch demanded.

Dugan filled him in on the events of the evening. “ERT found no fingerprints on the jewelry box, or on any of the remaining jewelry inside. Also, none were found on the surfaces we know the intruder touched when he removed the locket and the perfume. None on the dresser. None on the makeup table. Whoever broke in here must have worn gloves. ERT double-checked everything. They took the jewelry box with them for a more extensive examination. But I doubt they’ll find anything. This kidnapper knew what he wanted, maybe even the exact locations of the items in question. He came prepared. He went straight for what he needed, snatched the locket and perfume, and left.”