Andrea Kane - The Girl Who Disappeared Twice

“Claire?” Casey said tentatively.

Claire glanced over at her. “Felicity was here.”

“I know. I could tell by what you were saying.”

“This wall,” Claire murmured. “She spent hours pressed against it, trying to emotionally escape. That’s how I could still pick up on her presence after all these years. A residue of her energy was left behind. It’s gone now.” A shaky sigh. “So we know Linda Turner was the kidnapper. Or at least one of them. She kept Felicity in this basement. That’s why she’s repeating herself with Krissy. Another basement, another princess room.”

“Do you feel Krissy’s energy here, as well?” Casey asked quickly.

“No.” Claire shook her head. “Krissy was never here. Either Linda moved beforehand, or she chose a different location to make sure she didn’t get caught. Either way, she never brought Krissy to this house.”

Casey walked over and looped an arm around Claire’s shoulders. The poor woman was shaking. This experience had taken a lot out of her.

“Let’s go upstairs.” Casey spoke in a gentle voice. “We’ll tell the task force what you felt and saw.”

“Assuming they believe me,” Claire replied with sad resignation.

Casey couldn’t argue that one. “We’ll just have to hope ERT turns up some evidence from this room.”

For the first time, Casey understood the crippling frustration Claire endured in situations like this. It was bad enough to see the dubious expressions on the faces of the task force. What was worse was the utter helplessness of knowing there wasn’t a damned thing they could do to utilize Claire’s information. Casey didn’t care about the inadmissibility of what Claire had seen and felt. She would have jumped on this anyway, unencumbered by the limitations of law enforcement. What she cared about was the fact that she had nothing concrete that could lead them to Linda Turner.

Only the confirmation that they were looking for the right person.

“Did you find anything in the house?” Casey asked Peg.

“Nothing of significance.” Peg looked as frustrated as Casey felt. “A couple of take-out menus. A broken plate in the garbage. And a roll of red string in a corner of the master bedroom. We don’t need any of it. ERT had more than enough to establish that Linda Turner lived here. And they dusted for prints everywhere-including the basement-for proof that Felicity Akerman had been here. But, when push comes to shove, even if all the fingerprints match up and everything Claire said was true, it means nothing. Not in the here and now. Felicity Akerman is gone. We need to find Krissy Willis.”

Casey nodded. “Nothing else?”

“Scraps of paper with nothing written on them, an empty journal and an equally empty calendar. Obviously, Linda Turner wasn’t keeping track of things, at least not in a place she left for us to find.”

With that, Peg’s phone rang.

She snatched it and answered. “Harrington.”

A minute of silence, as Peg listened.

“Good. I want it analyzed yesterday. Call me back with specifics.”

Casey waited, staring at Peg. Judging from the special agent’s reaction, this call had yielded something that mattered.

“That was ERT,” Peg said in answer to Casey’s questioning look. “Evidently, when they swept the medicine cabinet in the master bath, they retrieved a pill. Turns out it’s definitely a prescription med. They’re having it analyzed ASAP.”

“If it was a prescription, that will tell us, not only what Linda Turner was taking, but perhaps what medical condition she was being treated for. With that info as a starting point, we’ll canvass all the pharmacies. Even if she used an assumed name, this will help.”

“I want the pharmacy and the doctor,” Peg replied. “Let’s just hope it’s a less common drug, and not something for insomnia or depression. If we can narrow things down, this could be the break we’ve been hoping for.”

It didn’t take long for the FBI lab to analyze the pill.

Casey, Marc, Claire, Patrick and the entourage of law enforcement had just returned to the Willises’-leaving behind a massive manhunt that spread over two counties-when Peg got the call.

The confiscated pill was a ten-milligram tablet of Memantine-a drug used to treat moderate to severe Alzheimer’s disease.

“Alzheimer’s?” Casey blinked. That one had come out of left field. “I don’t understand. How could Linda have orchestrated all this if she were suffering from such a debilitating disease?”

“Maybe it was moderate. The beginnings of dementia,” Patrick suggested.

“Nope.” Peg shook her head. “According to my medical experts, ten milligrams is not an initial dosage. On the other hand, every patient is different. Linda could be lucid most of the time. She also could have a visiting nurse who stops by, drops off prescriptions and stays for brief enough periods of time that she has no clue there’s a child being held captive in the basement. We won’t know any of these answers until we find Linda.”

“That explains the red string we found,” Casey mused aloud. “Linda probably ties it around her finger to remember things. It’s a pretty common thing to do. And a necessary one, in her case.”

“So we know what we’re looking for,” Bennett said. “We’ve already got law enforcement pounding the pavement, flashing pictures of Linda Turner at every pharmacy within a twenty-mile radius. Now we’ve got more than her face to go on. It’s time to get the necessary warrants to match the drug with the patient.”

Marc pulled Casey aside the minute he could speak to her in private.

“Can’t Ryan hack into some drug company database or something-bypass all that crap? Especially with the new HIPAA laws. We’ve got to speed things up.”

“Ryan can hack into anything,” Casey replied, visibly distracted as she spoke. “The problem is, he’d still have a gazillion pharmacies to check out. And even then, we’d have to hope Linda Turner used her real name. It’s very possible she didn’t, since she doesn’t want to be found. Which means we’d be right back where Sergeant Bennett just described-taking our list of pharmacies and flashing photos of Linda to every one of them that filled a Memantine prescription, hoping that a pharmacist or employee recognizes her. That would take almost as long as circumnavigating HIPAA.”

“You have another idea?” Marc recognized the look on Casey’s face.

“Actually, yes. I have a possible theory. And if it’s got merit, we can skip a whole bunch of steps and go to the head of the class.” She glanced around the room, eyeing the large number of law enforcement agents. “I can’t get out of here without the entourage noticing. And Peg will have my hide if she thinks I’m up to something. Can you slip away and text Ryan? Tell him to drive up here and bring his laptop-we’ll meet in his van.”

“Just give me three minutes. I’ll be gone and back.”

Ryan made it to Armonk in record time.

But it was long enough for Casey to separate herself from the pack, many of whom had disbanded to join the manhunt.

She, Marc and Ryan clustered together in the van, Hero stretched out beside them.

“Marc filled me in on where things stand,” Ryan began. “So tell us what you’re thinking.”

Casey blew out her breath. “My grandfather had Alzheimer’s. It’s a horrible, debilitating disease. If Linda Turner is taking ten milligrams of Memantine at a time, it’s very likely she’s taking twenty milligrams a day. And that means she’s not in a good place. Also, these drugs only go so far in slowing the progression of the disease. I just can’t imagine her being clearheaded and cunning enough to pull off this whole kidnapping scheme alone.”