The Stranger You Know - Andrea Kane


It begins with a chilling phone call to Casey Woods. And ends with another girl dead.

College-age girls with long red hair. Brutally murdered, theyre posed like victims in a film noir. Each crime scene is eerily similar to the twisted fantasy of a serial offender now serving thirty years to lifea criminal brought to justice with the help of Forensic Instincts.

Call. Kill. Repeat. But the similarities are more than one psychopaths desire to outdo another. As more red-haired victims are added to the body count, it becomes clear that each one has been chosen because of a unique connection to Caseya connection that grows closer and closer to her.

Now the Forensic Instincts team must race to uncover the identity of a serial killer before his ever-tightening circle of death closes in on Casey as the ultimate target. As the stalker methodically moves in on his prey, his actions make one thing clear: he knows everything about Casey. And Casey realizes that this psychopath wont stop until he makes sure shes dead.

The Stranger You Know

Andrea Kane

www.mirabooks.co.uk

To Mom and Dad

always in our hearts, forever our nucleus, and forever connected.

I love you and miss you both more than words can say.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

April

Offices of Forensic Instincts, LLC

Tribeca, Manhattan, New York

Just one more body.

But this one had a name. And a grieving father who needed answers before he died.

Casey Woods shoved the dozens of newspaper clippings that shed collected into the thick file and slapped it shut. Then she leaned back in her chair, pressing her fingers to her closed eyelids.

It was Sunday, just after dawn. The streets were sleepy, occupied only by ambitious joggers and early morning coffee drinkers headed for the nearest Starbucks.

The brownstone that housed the private investigative firm Forensic Instincts was quiet.

Caseythe company presidentwas alone in the building, other than her bloodhound, Hero, who was stretched out by her feet, resting but alert. Casey had been up and working all night. Sleep wasnt on her agenda. Work was.

As usual, she sat at the large second-floor conference room table, her notes sprawled in front of her. There were plenty of smaller offices to choose from in the four-story brownstone. She could even have worked in bed, since the fourth floor was her apartment. But the main conference room infused her with a sense of discipline and productivity she didnt get anywhere else.

She needed to be productive now.

She wasnt doing a hell of a good job.

Purposefully, she picked up the notes shed printed out last night after her client meeting and reread them. She was unnerved, not by the meeting but by the entire case. That didnt make her happy. She liked being in control. She almost always was.

This time was different. It wasnt because this new assignment had come from the NYPD rather than from the client himself, but because it established a connection that was both unexpected and shocking. Not in the eyes of the police, who would have no reason to spot the common thread. But in Caseys eyes? Instant recognition. A major punch in the gut, and a throwback to a time of her life that had been traumatic.

The tragedy remained unbearably painful, even after fifteen years.

And now? A different case. A different victim. But the same university. The same year. The same basic physical descriptions. One victim was murdered. One was missingpossibly murdered.

How could all that be a coincidence?

The murder, which was branded in Caseys memory, had been tagged a cold case. Still, for her, it had never gone away. Now, out of the blue, it was back, albeit from an entirely different angle, centered on an entirely different girl. The enormity of it had hit her hard.

The first caseher case, the one involving her friendhad been the driving force that ultimately led her to form Forensic Instincts. Shed never forgotten, never gotten over it. And now, after talking to Mr. Olson last night, seeing how gaunt he was, reading the anguish in his hollow eyes, she found her own memories crashing back....

Casey nearly leaped from her chair as a firm hand was planted on her shoulder.

Instinctively, she whirled around to defend herself. Hero leaped up and began to bark at her abrupt reaction.

Hey, both of you, take it easy. Its me. Patrick Lynch, one of her valued FI team members, walked around the conference table and lowered himself into a chair. Hero followed, and Patrick leaned down to scratch his ears. The human-scent evidence dogthe sole canine FI team membersat down to enjoy the attention.

Simultaneously, a wall of floor-to-ceiling video screens began to glow, and a long green line formed across each panel, pulsing from left to right. Good morning, Patrick, a computerized voice greeted him. The voice emanated from everywhere in the room, bending each line into the contours of the voice panel. Casey, I apologize for not alerting you to Patricks arrival before you became alarmed. But you did put me in sleep mode. I responded the instant I sensed activity. A pause. Your heart rate has accelerated. There is no need.

I can see that now, Yoda, Casey responded dryly. A minute ago I thought I was being attacked. Shed long since ceased questioning the artificial intelligence system built by team member Ryan McKay. She just accepted that Ryan was a genius and Yoda was omniscient.

Patrick did the same. Not to worry, Yoda, he said, addressing the voice. I have a feeling Casey wasnt in a good place even before I walked in.

Correct, Yoda confirmed. She is under duress.

Casey didnt deny it. You should be home with Adele, she told Patrick. Your wife will have my head if she thinks Ive got you slaving away on a Sunday morning without a damned good reason.

Adele knows where I am, and shes fine with it. Patrick studied Caseys expression. Besides, I couldnt sleep.

So you drove in from New Jersey to visit, since you dont already spend enough hours at work?

No. I followed a hunch and made a phone call to Marc.

Marc Devereaux was Caseys first hire for Forensic Instincts, and her right hand. He was a former navy SEAL, former FBI agent and former member of the FBIs Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia. He was the total package, and hed been with Casey from the beginning.

You havent been yourself in days, Patrick continued. Not since I introduced this case. Now I realize why. Marc was reluctant, but he finally filled me in on what he thought I should know. So here I am. Im sorry, Casey. I never would have brought this case to the table if I had a clue what it meant to you personally, or what it would do to you.

How could you have? Talk about a bizarre coincidence. What are the chances of that happening? And now that it has, my personal feelings shouldnt factor into it. The case is important. It has to be investigated.

Patrick arched a brow. This is me youre talking to. Whos more apt to understand your internal conflict and ambivalence?

Casey tucked a strand of shoulder-length red hair behind her ear. Patrick was right. Hed understand better than anyone. Hed lived through it firsthand.

Hed been an FBI agent for over thirty years before coming on board at Forensic Instincts. His joining the team had been the direct result of a child kidnapping case that had haunted him since early in his career and had resurfaced in a new form that was investigated by FI. The emotional reverberations had eaten away at him.

This situation is different, Casey said. You had no idea you were treading on my Achilles heel. Theres no need to feel guilty.

I dont feel guilty. I feel responsible.

You shouldnt. Captain Sharp is your friend.

Patrick nodded. Hed spent a chunk of his FBI time working the Joint Robbery Task Force with NYPD Captain Horace Sharp. Theyd become tight. So when Horace had been approached by a dying neighbor, Daniel Olson, begging him for closure, convinced that his long-missing daughter had been murdered and pleading with him to find her body, Horace had agreed to tryif Forensic Instincts agreed to work the case jointly with his detectives. FI had the money and the manpower to give to this case-that-wasnt-a-case. The NYPD didnt. As a result, the retainer was an IOUa favor to be redeemed sometime in the future. And the stipulation was that Forensic Instincts would work with the police detectives, not alone.

So, yes, Patrick had brought the case to the FI team. But from the minute theyd sat around the table discussing it, hed picked up on some weird vibes. Hed waited patiently for someone to fill him in. No one did. Not in three days. So hed finally taken the bull by the horns and called Marc. And now he got it. This was close to home for Caseymaybe too close.

Watching her now, seeing how conflicted she was, only substantiated his concerns.

Should I tell Horace we cant help Mr. Olson?

No. Casey gave a hard shake of her head. You shouldnt. Our team has the skills. I have the insight. My reaction is my problem. Not yours. She paused for a moment. But at least now you know the reason for my crazy behavior. I should have told you myself. I just wasnt ready.

Casey rose, walking over to the windows and folding her arms across her chest. Im not handling this well. It pisses me off that, after all this time, Im still so emotionally affected.

Stop beating yourself up. It is what it is. Delving back into the past is both a blessing and a curse. It reopens old wounds. It makes them bleed. But sometimes it also helps them heal.

A hint of a smile. When did you become so philosophical?

Its called the voice of experience.

Yes, well, your experience held you emotionally hostage for thirty-two years.

Youre right. It did. Which is precisely why Im the person you should be talking to.

Casey couldnt dispute that. In your case, you found closure. I thought Id found some level of closure with my case, toowhen they located Hollys body. But I was wrong. I guess Ill never get closure. Because the bastard who raped and killed Holly when we were in college was never caught. And thats what Id need to find peace.

I know. Patrick, as always, was blunt. I also know that might never happen.

Unless it turns out that Jan Olson was murdered and that her killer is the same offender who raped and killed Holly, Casey said quietly. Its possible, Patrick. The facts are closely related. Maybe our investigation into Jan Olsons disappearance will lead us to Hollys killer.

Patrick didnt look surprised by Caseys theory. Hed obviously expected her mind to veer in that direction. It was natural, given the circumstances. I hear you, he responded. And Im not arguing that the parallels are strong. But identifying the murderer after fifteen years? Its a long shot. And we were hired to find a body, not an offender.

You dont need to remind me. Caseys jaw tightened. Our job is to find the body of Daniel Olsons daughter. To help him find peace. Stage four pancreatic cancer is a death sentence. Hes only got weeks or months to live.

By giving him what he needs, well be paying tribute to your friend Holly, Patrick said. You could look at it that way.

My head knows thats true. But Im having problems separating my head from my heart. I need objectivity in order to run this investigation. She turned to frown at Patrick. And if you suggest that I take a backseat and let you head up this caseor worse, Marc, Ryan or ClaireIll punch you first and call you a hypocrite second.

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