Then lucky for me I wasnt going to do that. Youve got a mean right hook. Patrick gave a wry smileone that rapidly faded. But, Casey, youre thrown by this. Badly. Youve got to work through that. Why dont you tell me the details about your friend Holly? Marc was his usual tight-lipped self. He gave me just the need-to-know basics. Youve discussed the details with him, and maybe even Ryan and Claire, but I think, in this situation, Im the one who can help you focus.
Marc knows more than anyone, except Hutch. Hutch is the only one Ive totally broken down to.
Marc had introduced her to HutchSupervisory Special Agent Kyle Hutchinsonwho was currently with the FBIs Behavioral Analysis Unit, and whod become the man in Caseys life.
Okay, so Hutch and Marc know, Patrick acknowledged. Now its time you talked to a kindred spiritme.
You could have researched the case yourself, Casey pointed out. You certainly have the contacts.
Youre right. I do. But they could only supply me with facts. They couldnt offer me your perspective. Only you can. So Im listening.
Casey nodded, walking over to make two cups of black coffee from their Keurig, then returning to the conference room table.
She handed a cup to Patrick, then took her own cup and sat down.
I was a freshman at Columbia. My friend Holly Stevens lived off campus. She was a loner, very shy and reserved. She had a few close friends. I was one of them. We met in Psych 101 and hit it off. One day, she told me she sensed she was being followed, even stalked. I urged her to go to the police. She did. They had nothing solid to work with, so they arranged for a few patrol cars to keep an eye on her apartment. It wasnt enough.
Casey drew a slow, unsteady breath, staring into her coffee as she spoke. Hollys body was found wrapped in a canvas tarp and tossed in a Dumpster a few weeks later. Shed been raped and murdered. It was a nightmareone that could have been avoided with the proper resources.
You werent those resources, Casey. Not back then.
But I was the one Holly confided in. Irrational as it might seem, I always felt that maybe I missed an opportunity to prevent what happened.
That irrationality is whats getting in your way now. Lose it. You may not have had the right resources to do what shouldve been done then, but you have the right tools for what you need to do now. You have Forensic Instincts.
Which is why I cant let this case slip through my fingers. Not that I blame the police for what happened to Holly. I dont. They did all they could. But a private investigative firm with our expertise could have done more. We could have focused our manpower and our skills on her predicament, dug deeper, put enough security on her to keep her safe. But, as you said, we didnt exist, not then. Now we do. And now Ive been approached to help a dying man find his daughters bodya man whose daughter could very well have been killed by the same psycho pervert who killed Holly. The time frame fits. The location fits. The victimology fits. If Im right, that would make this bastard a repeat offender, maybe a serial killer. Which paints an even more gruesome story. He was never caught. Jan Olsons body was never found. How many others were there?
Thats a question we might or might not be able to answer. Patrick took a deep swallow of coffee, continuing to share his thoughts with Casey in a calm, straightforward manner. I know you want to go back and solve it allcatch the killer, assign names to all his victims and provide closure for all the families involved. Maybe we can make that happen. I dont know. What I do know is that the best way to increase our odds is to fulfill our obligation.
Follow the case thats been handed to us. Find Jan Olsons body.
Thats how it was with me, remember? Start with the present, step back into the past. This process is going to take you down some dark alleys. Youre going to lose a lot of sleep and relive some painful memories. But you need this. Otherwise, you would have squashed the case the minute I brought it to the team. You knew it was too close to home, that you probably should refer it out. But you didnt. Youre the president of Forensic Instincts. You made the call for us to take on the caseand you made it without missing a beat.
Youre right, Casey conceded. I couldnt have lived with myself if I didnt see this through. For many reasons. Daniel Olson is dying. And if his theory is correct, if his daughter really did suffer the same fate as Holly, then she was raped, killed and dumped...somewhere. No father should have to die with those kinds of unanswered questions, and without his daughters body being found. Plus, if the offender really was the same bastard who did that to Holly, then I have twice the motivation to solve this.
Agreed. Patrick reached over and scooped up Caseys notes. So lets review your interview with Daniel Olson. Then well go over all the newspaper articles you compiled. I got a glimpse of them. You dug up everything, not only about Jans disappearance, but about the disappearances of all young women who lived in Manhattan during a five-year time span.
Im going to give the whole pile of them to Ryan and have him set up a database. But I know its a stretch. Most of those young women probably just packed up and moved.
Well, its up to us to figure that out. So lets go. If anything rings a bell or recalls a memory that in any way relates to Holly, well zero in on it. Go with your gut. No one has better instincts than you do.
Casey smiled. Youd make a great life coach.
Not really. Ive just been where you are. It took me thirty-two years to get my answers. Maybe we can come up with yours in half that time. Lets figure out what happened to Jan Olson. And lets find her.
Chapter Two
Glen Fisher lay on his cot in the cell of Auburn State Correctional Facility, a maximum security prison in upstate New York.
He folded his hands behind his head and stared up at the concrete ceiling. First, six weeks in Downstate Correctional Facility undergoing all those ridiculous evaluations and test. And now? Seven months, two weeks and four days in here. More than half a year of his life shot to hell. Thanks to that firecrotch.
One day blended into the next. A meal. His job in the mail room. Another meal. Exercise. Mail again. Back to his cell. A gloomy little six-by-eight hole with a sink, a toilet, a cot, a shelf and bars that separated him from a dark hall equipped with a centrally controlled tear gas system.
Mundane. Boring. A waste of his life.
His lawyer had been a wimp. He shouldve driven home the coercion plea and gotten him off. Instead, the judge had thrown out the defendants plea, the evidence had been ruled admissible and here he was, facing a life sentence.
His lawyer was long gone. Good riddance. Representing himself was the smartest thing he could do. He continually found new loopholes. Hed filed another appeal last week. Eventually, maybe those idiots on the parole board would listen to him. All they kept reiterating over and over like some stupid litany was the list of rapes and homicides hed been convicted of. They couldnt see that hed done the world a favor.
Considering law enforcements one-dimensional stupidity, he should have kept his fucking mouth shut when hed been cornered. Even if that Neanderthal from Forensic Instincts had started the ball rolling by practically killing him in the alley. Uncharacteristically, Glen had been caught off guard.
Never again.
Theyd found the bodies just where he said theyd be. And the jurynot one of whom had an ounce of brainshad labeled him scum. Theyd focused only on the words rape and murder. Couldnt see past them. Couldnt know what he knew about those whores. Who they were. What they were. What they did to their victims.
The entire system was useless. It was up to him to bypass it and finish what hed started.
He pulled out his drawing tablet and crayons and began another detailed sketch. It slowly came alive. Even the outline excited him. Especially when he made sweeping crimson strokes across the page.
A smug smile twisted his lips. Funny thing about life. It had a way of evening out.
He might have lost his freedom.
But Casey Woods was about to lose a whole lot more.
Columbia University
John Jay Hall
Cramming for exams sucked ass.
Nick Anderson opened his dorm room door, gazing sympathetically at the regular crowda half dozen of his bleary-eyed dorm mates. They all traipsed in and stuffed five-dollar bills into his empty beer stein to chip in for the pizza that was about to be delivered. The head count had been taken at around ten oclock. Now it was almost midnight. Theyd studied enough. Their brains were fried. It was time to stuff their faces, drink some beer and unwind.
Did you get pepperoni? Donna Altwood asked. Shed just come out of the shower. She was wearing damp sweats, with a wet mane of long blond hair hanging down her back. She looked scrubbed clean, stressed and cranky. Then again, she was premed, and studied more hours than there were in a day.
Yup, Nick assured her. One deluxe, one half pepperoni, half sausage and one plain. You can tip me later.
Nice, Charlie Green muttered. The sausage and the pepperoni will give me heartburn. Thatll keep me awake. And if Im awake, Ill study. He set down the case of Miller Lite hed brought, since it was his turn to contribute the beer.
No, you wont, Dominick Peretti said. Youll get wasted and sleep through your classes. He grinned. Dom didnt have a mean bone in his body. He was just Domdirect, comfortable in his own skin. So no one was offended by his comments.
Getting wasted sounds good. Amy Sheehan wasnt smiling. Then again, she didnt need to. She was one of those girls every other girl wanted to look likegreat body, long, thick black hair, huge blue eyes. Worse, she wasnt even arrogant about it. That made it really hard to hate her. My brains not taking in anything tonight. Its done. So I might as well be, too, right?
Kenny Bishop didnt say anything. He rarely did. He didnt hang out with this crowd, except to eat pizza and drink beer. He didnt really hang out with anyone. He was a loner. Brilliant. Weird. And in his own world. Maybe he was high half the time. No one knew. Or asked. He just sat on the floor, his head against the bed frame, his curly hair a dark mop. His dark eyes were hooded but somehow intense as he watched the rest of the group talk and complain. Whatever he was thinking, he kept it to himself. But he didnt bother anyone, and he always paid promptly, so no one objected to him being there.
My bio professor is a tool, Nick complained. The only one he makes sense to is him.
Serves you right, Donna retorted. You satisfied your science requirements two semesters ago. Who the hell takes advanced bio when they dont have to?
Spoken like a dedicated future doctor, Dom said, rising to get himself a beer.
Donna raised her brows. I have to take those courses, she reminded Dom. Nicks a history major. He doesnt have to suffer.
True.
Have you ever studied ancient Greece? Nick asked. Trust me, thats suffering.
A knock interrupted the conversation. Ah, finally. Provisions. Nick headed over and opened the door. Hey, Robbie. He greeted the solid guy in the striped Pizza King T-shirt who was standing on the threshold with three steaming boxes. You got here just in time. We were either going to starve or eat one another.
Thats pretty harsh. Robbie grinned. Im glad I got here before any of that happened. He looked a little like the Cheshire cat, stripes and all. Only he couldnt perform magic, so he was paying his way through grad school by working late-night pizza delivery shifts.
Hi, guys, he said, glancing into the room and waving.
They all waved back. They liked Robbie, and they knew the feeling was mutual. And why not? They called three times a week to order pizza or hot sandwiches, and they always gave him a good tip. Nice frequency, nice amount of cash. And with the price of grad school credits skyrocketing, every little bit helped.
Robbie passed the boxes to Nick, along with a white bag. Almost closing time means leftover garlic bread, he explained. I figured youd want it.
Want it? Dom piped up. Pass it this way. Ill make it disappear before we even settle up.
Robbie chuckled. Now why did I know youd be the first voice I heard?
Because you know me. Garlic bread and I are like this. Dom held up two crossed fingers.
I wish I could say eat it all, therell be more pizza for us, Donna said. But youre a bottomless pit. Youll swallow all the garlic bread and half a pizza before I can finish my first slice. She sighed. It sucks that guys can eat like that and never gain a pound.
It also sucks that we chip in as much cash as they do, and eat a fraction of the amount, Amy noted.
True. I vote that we revisit the contribution breakdown, Donna said.
Forget it. Im broke. Nick placed the pizza boxes on his desk and tossed the bag of garlic bread to Dom. Save some for the rest of us. And dont expect us to wait. Were eating all these pizzas, including your share, if you dont hurry up.
There was a tentative knock on the open door, and Josh Lochman poked his head around the corner. He was the star linebacker for the Columbia Lions and was built like a young Arnold Schwarzenegger, but with a thick head of dark hair and equally dark eyes. Josh wasnt a frequent participant in these late-night pizza breaks, but he did drop by once in a while. And he never came empty-handed.
Hey, guys, he greeted them. He held up an extrawide pizza box, simultaneously clapping Robbie on the shoulder. These calzones were delivered by the man himself a few minutes ago. Four extralarge. After a two-hour workout, I could eat them all myself. But I wont. Am I welcome?
By all means. Nick beckoned him in. Join the party. Anyone bearing food is welcome.
While Josh settled on the floor, Nick picked up the contributions container. He already knew how much the bill was; the cheery voice at the other end of the phone had told him when he ordered. He counted out the cash, then added twenty percent for Robbie.
Here you go, my friend. He handed it to him. Although I could tell you a dozen things more worthwhile to spend it on than school.
Robbie took the cash gratefully. He stuffed the bills in his money pouch and the rest in his pocket. Im sure you could. But Im hell-bent on that degree. He waved. Thanks, guys. You have a good night.
That wasnt an issue. The minute the door shut, they attacked the pizzas, calzones and garlic bread as if they hadnt eaten in days.
Hey, Amy complained. Give Donna and me a head start next time. We cant chew as fast as you male animals.