The Girl Who Disappeared Twice (19 page)

“Shh-shh-shh.” Marc pressed his index finger to her lips, then held it up in a one-minute gesture. Whipping out his cell phone, he punched in a number.

Around the corner in their van, Ryan’s phone rang. He hit the talk button. “Yup,” he greeted Marc.

“Hey, Jim,” Marc said in his ear. “It’s John. You know that machine you were going to deliver today? I need you to bring it to me here at Bennato Construction.” A pause. “I don’t care. Fuck ’em. They’ll get their machine tomorrow.” Another pause. “Fuck Eddie, too. He can kiss my ass. Just bring that copier to me now. It’s an emergency. I’ll handle Eddie.”

Hanging up, Marc turned to face Sonya, who was staring at him, speechless.

Marc gave her a huge, sexy smile, and said, “After this, we’ll work on the other things I can do for you, Sonya.
And
on the ways you can help me.”

Thirty minutes later, Marc and Ryan left Bennato Construction. Marc had a bite mark on his lips and Sonya’s phone number in his pocket. And the storage room had Ryan’s machine in it. The copier would soon begin to “phone home,” sending Ryan images of every piece of paper that went through it.

“Nice souvenir,” Ryan commented drily, turning from the wheel to indicate Marc’s mouth.

“Shut up.” Marc tore up the phone number and tossed the scraps into the trash container.

“Maybe you should keep that. You could get laid tonight. Hell, you practically got laid ten minutes ago on the new copying machine.” An approving nod. “I guess watching me in action has had a positive educational impact. You really pulled that off. I’ll make sure Casey knows that you’ll make a good backup when I’m otherwise occupied.”

“Don’t do me any favors.” Marc had no desire to fill the role of hot stud. “I do just fine on my own—when it’s for real. But this phony shit is not my thing, even if I am a stellar actor. I only did it this time because seductive ol’ you had to make technical tweaks on your copying machine.” He licked his swollen lower lip. “Damn. She almost tore off a layer of my skin, not to mention smothering me in her breasts.”

“She also had about three brain cells. Not my type either.” Ryan chuckled.

“Let’s just hope we get something off that machine,” Marc said soberly. “The spyware on Joe Deale’s laptop gave us zip.”

“True. We need a quick break. Claudia Mitchell is dead. Where does that leave Krissy Willis?”

“Not just as a kidnapping victim anymore.” Ryan’s jaw tightened.

“Yeah. But hopefully not as collateral damage.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

With a tight grip on his leash, Casey led Hero into the Willis home. The bloodhound’s nose was everywhere, taking in the smells of the house and the scents of the people in it.

“Great-looking guy, Casey.” Grace greeted her in the living room doorway. “I knew you’d come to your senses and replace Hutch.”

“Given how pissed off at him I am right now, I just might take that advice.” Casey didn’t pull any punches with Hutch’s partner. They were a tight team, and Casey was sure that Grace was aware of the fact that Hutch had called Marc, rather than Casey, with the news about Claudia Mitchell’s murder.

Casey wasn’t sure which was more immature—Hutch’s action, or her own reaction.

She spotted him across the room, and purposely ignored him. She had things to deal with; she’d thrash it out with Hutch later.

“What happened with Akerman and yesterday’s lineup?” Casey asked. “Did Sidney recognize that guy Lou DeMassi?”

“From what Peg told me, I think that Akerman was pretty sure DeMassi was one of the mobsters squeezing Kenyon. Last I heard, Peg and Don were interrogating him. Ken went over to DeMassi’s son’s place, but the guy and his family seem to have magically left on a spontaneous Sicilian vacation. Ken will find him. But we’re back to the same enemy—time.”

“Casey—” Hope interjected, hurrying over, her lashes damp with tears. “This nightmare just keeps getting worse and worse. Why would the mob kill Claudia? Did she know something? Are they warning her boyfriend to keep his mouth shut about my baby?”

“I don’t know,” Casey answered honestly. “But they obviously went to great lengths to pick the right spot to commit the murder. That section of road is all hills and sharp curves. And it’s countrified, so it’s pretty isolated. I’m guessing they followed her up to there, waited for her return trip and did their job.”

Turning back to Grace, Casey asked, “Has someone told Joe Deale about Claudia yet?”

“Yup.” Grace nodded. “Peg stopped at the precinct before she and Don drove up to the medical center to question the staff. From what I heard, Deale is totally freaked out. Not so much about losing his girlfriend, but about what it suggests. He knows that he’s next. He’s like a rat in a maze, not knowing what he might know and not knowing how to get out.”

“I finished our updated profile and released it to the entire task force.” Hutch appeared out of nowhere to convey that information to Grace. “They’re all running with it.” He glanced at Casey. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she returned coolly without meeting his gaze. Instead, she addressed Hope. “I have some photos for you and your mother to look at. Is she up for it now?”

“Yes, of course. Come into the Florida room. She’s resting there. It’s the only place that’s removed from the pandemonium, and she hasn’t gotten any real sleep since Krissy…” A tremor in her voice. “Since they took Krissy. Ashley’s with her.”

“Good. Ashley practically lives here. It’s possible that she might be able to identify someone, too.” Casey began following Hope, then paused. “Is your mother okay with dogs? As I mentioned to you on the phone, I brought Hero to do some more sniffing recon.”

“She’s fine with them.”

“Hero does slobber,” Casey warned.

Hope managed a small smile. “My mother had a cocker spaniel when she was growing up. According to her, ‘Slobber’ was his middle name. So I wouldn’t worry. Going through those photos with a fine-tooth comb is what this is all about.”

“Great. What I’ll do is leave the stack of photos with the three of you, explain what I’m looking for and take Hero up to Krissy’s room. Okay?”

“Fine. Yes. Anything.”

They continued into the Florida room, where Vera was sitting on the couch bleakly sipping a cup of tea and Ashley was pacing around, unable to sit still.

“Hi,” Ashley said, stopping to look at Casey. “Did you hear the horrible news about Claudia Mitchell?”

A nod. “The authorities are all over it. Hopefully, we’ll hear something soon.”

Ashley’s gaze dropped to Hero. “What a beautiful bloodhound. Is he yours?”

“Not only mine, but a newly inducted member of Forensic Instincts,” Casey replied. “He’s a former FBI human scent evidence dog, trained and certified at Quantico. We’re lucky that he went into early retirement. This way, he can work the case with us.”

Casey turned back to Vera and Hope. “I have photos for you to review. Felicity’s friends, aged to what they would currently look like. And their parents, as well. Hope, you study the images carefully and let me know if you’ve seen any of these people hanging around your house or Krissy’s school. And Mrs. Akerman, I’d appreciate if you’d concentrate on seeing if you recognize the kids from childhood, and their parents from younger adulthood.”

“You’re searching for a clue that would tie the two kidnappings together—like the same kidnapper,” Hope concluded aloud.

“Exactly,” Casey said. “Ashley, you join Judge Willis in her scrutiny of the current individuals. You spend so much time here—maybe someone in the pictures will jump out at you.”

“Of course.” Ashley had already settled herself beside Hope, who’d sunk down on the opposite sofa, photos in hand.

“Take your time,” Casey instructed. “Hero and I will go upstairs to Krissy’s bedroom. I want to collect a few more of Krissy’s things that have her smells. Hero’s sense of smell is unbelievable. He could pick up her scent from miles away. That can only help us.”

Casey was just about to head upstairs when Patrick arrived.

“Where do things stand?” he demanded.

Quickly, Casey filled him in, then suggested that he, too, review the photos and see if anyone struck him from three decades ago.

“Consider it done,” he said, perching behind Vera. “If the offender is here, I’ll spot him.”

Once upstairs in Krissy’s bedroom, Casey put on latex gloves to do her work. She’d covered half the room, scooped up Krissy’s pillowcase—which she let Hero sniff—and had gathered a pair of soccer cleats and a T-shirt, which she’d packed carefully away for later scent-pad collection, when her BlackBerry rang.

A swift glance at the caller ID told her it was the office.

“Ryan?” she asked into the phone.

“Yup. I’ve got something for you, straight from the copying machine at Bennato Construction. And it’s a doozy. Get this. You know that medical facility, Sunny Gardens, that Claudia Mitchell’s calendar said she interviewed at just before her death?”

“Yes.”

“Well, guess who just happens to be constructing the new wing there?”

“You’re kidding.”

“Bingo—Bennato. And it gets better. From the paperwork I’m seeing off their copier, Bennato is screwing them big-time. They’re using substandard materials, cutting corners in construction, you name it. Plus, it looks like they’re paying off the inspectors, ensuring that they look the other way. It’s quite an operation Bennato’s got going there.”

Casey sank down in a chair, Hero beside her. “The illegalities are no surprise. But the fact that Claudia Mitchell was at the place just before she was killed, that’s no coincidence. And it changes everything. I assumed her killer had followed her upstate. Now I’m wondering if this murder was more spontaneous than planned.”

“My thoughts exactly. She went for an interview. She might have inadvertently seen something, or someone, she shouldn’t have. Or maybe that someone saw her, and figured that she and/or Deale might be ratting Bennato out to the Feds.”

“
Maybe
just doesn’t cut it anymore,” Casey said. “Did any of the paperwork list the foreman or any of the workers who are on this particular construction project?”

“The foreman, yes. His name’s Bill Parsons. He’s been working for Bennato for a dozen years.”

“We need to talk to Parsons.”

“Marc and I are one step ahead of you. Marc’s already on his way to the construction site.”

“So’s the task force, Ryan.”

“We know. But this is Marc we’re talking about. He’ll slither in and out, get what we need, and do it all without being spotted by anyone.”

“True.” Thank God it was Marc handling this. No one else could pull it off. They’d be screwed. Because if the FBI spotted a member of her team on the grounds, they’d demand to know how they got the information on Bennato and Parsons first. They wouldn’t like the answer, and Forensic Instincts wouldn’t like the consequences.

The wisest thing was to stay out of the Bureau’s way on this one. Let them follow protocol. That way, whatever they uncovered would be admissible in court when they went after Bennato. Casey and her team’s job was to find Krissy Willis, not to bury the Vizzini family.

“Marc will get answers out of Parsons any way he has to,” she said, telling Ryan what he already knew. “I almost feel sorry for the bastard.”

“Yeah. A low-level mob soldier up against a Navy SEAL. Not promising for the foreman.”

Krissy. I don’t know what to do.

I’ve followed my instructions to a tee. I’ve eliminated obstacles, kept us well hidden, and done everything in my power to win you over. I thought I was making headway. But nothing works.

Even the special world I created for you didn’t get the reaction I’d hoped for. The software I designed is one-of-a-kind, just like you. It’s better and more original than your all-time-favorite Club Penguin. And yet, even though you obeyed me and went to play with it, you did it without the sparkle in your eyes that I expected. Silently. Listlessly. Not like when you’re playing with Oreo and Ruby. They’re the only ones who make you smile.

At least you’re eating a little better, but you’re not sleeping. The room is still strange. The monsters are still terrifying.

I want to soothe them away. But you won’t let me get near you, not even with the locket and perfume. You start to cry the minute you see and smell them. And you shut down when I mention the word “mommy.”

Yet you call out her name and cry for her every night.

I keep telling myself how short a time it’s been.

I try not to think about what’s being taken from you, day after day. I try to remind myself of the instructions. But things are different. The caring is different. No one can help or protect you but me.

I’ve got to remember that. I’ve got to have patience.

But for how long?

Hutch pulled Casey aside the minute she and Hero made their way downstairs.

“What’s going on?” he demanded.

She gave him a cool look. “Hero and I were just doing a once-over in Krissy’s room. I wanted him to be able to sniff out—”

“I know what you were doing with Hero,” Hutch interrupted. “I meant, what’s with the icy treatment? What are you so pissed off about?”

Casey glanced around to ensure they were alone. “Apparently, it’s okay to sleep with me, but not to give me a major heads-up like the fact that Claudia Mitchell was murdered. I’d understand if the information was classified, but it wasn’t, and you had no problem calling your buddy, Marc. So you weren’t keeping it from Forensic Instincts, just from me.”

“
That’s
what you’re ripping mad about?” Hutch sounded incredulous. “Obviously, I knew Marc would tell you. Your team is tighter than our squads.”

“But?” Casey prompted. “I’m not a former BAU-er? Is that it?”

“No, that’s not it.” It was Hutch’s turn to glance around. Then, he dropped his voice to protect their privacy. “It’s
because
of our personal relationship that I didn’t call you directly. The Bureau understands my continued contact and loyalty towards Marc—we were once colleagues. But you and I are different. You’re the private sector, earning big bucks without having to follow the rules. It’s bad enough that half the world knows we’re involved. The last thing I want to do is ruffle feathers to the point where the FBI stops feeling so magnanimous toward Forensic Instincts. Up until now, it’s been an amenable, if rocky, road. But your team walks a fine line between acceptable and off-limits. My giving you a direct jump on Claudia Mitchell’s murder would definitely rock the boat.”

Casey waved her hand in frustrated disbelief. “So even though the entire task force knows that Marc is going to come straight to me with the news, it’s okay because Marc is former BAU and because the two of you aren’t hitting the sheets together.”

Hutch’s lips twitched at her succinct conclusion. “That about sums it up.”

“Unbelievable.” Casey dragged her fingers through her hair. “Another reminder of why I hate bureaucracy. Fine.” A thoughtful pause. “You and I really have to have a talk. In retrospect, I should have anticipated this kind of thing, but, since this is the first case we’ve worked so closely together on, I didn’t. We need to set some ground rules. Otherwise, we’ll combust.”

“I agree—and not just about this case. We have to get on the same page about a lot of things.”

Casey didn’t ask him what those “things” were. She merely nodded.

“Tonight,” Hutch stated flatly. “I’ll come by late, after we’re both too exhausted to work. Then we can talk.”

This time, Casey’s eyebrows rose slightly. “That sounds productive, but not very inspiring.”

“Oh, I’ll be inspiring. You can count on it.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”