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.
No chance. Dom grinned. Be happy I shared the garlic bread. I could have eaten the whole thing.
Charlie glanced up, swallowing his mouthful of sausage pie. Wheres Kendra? he asked. She said shed be coming by on her way back from the library.
Donna shrugged. You know Kendra. She probably got involved in a philosophy book and lost track of time. But well save her some pizza, right, guys?
The guys exchanged reluctant glances. Well give her fifteen more minutes. Then all bets are off, Dom decided for them.
Fine. Donna rolled her eyes. Its touching how far youre willing to go for a friend.
Ten minutes later, Kendra opened the door and hurried in. She looked the way she always lookedrumpled and rushed. Her curly auburn hair was tousled, and her eyes were glazed from too much reading. She yanked off her coat, tossed it somewhere and grabbed the closest pizza box.
Whats leftone slice or two? she asked dryly.
We fought for you, Donna told her. So there might be some hope of leftovers. What kept youPlato?
Kendra shook her head. In this case, no. I was actually in the parking lot. Some sedan blocked in Robbies pizza delivery truck and he was having trouble getting out. I couldnt see the driver because the windows were tinted. But whoever it was, he or she was in no hurry to move, and didnt catch on until Robbie tapped on the window. The sketchbag only shifted over enough for Robbie to inch his way out and then went back to whatever he was doing.
Probably texting someone, Amy said in disgust. I feel sorry for delivery people. Same with maintenance workers. People treat them like theyre invisible. The hired help. It sucks.
Kendra nodded. I was half tempted to go over and rip the driver a new one. But Robbie waved me away, like it was no big deal. Hes too sweet for his own good. Anyway, he just drove off and probably chalked it up to another crappy aspect of the job.
Probably.
They dropped the subject and returned to the important issue at handeating.
But outside, the dark sedan continued to sit there, motor running, the driver intently staring at their window.
Chapter Three
The entire Forensic Instincts team gathered around the conference room table, ready to begin their day and their morning briefing.
As of now, the team consisted of five members, six counting Hero. Marc and Ryan had been with Casey from the onset. Patrick and Claire had come on board last year, around the same time that Hero had been retired from the FBI Canine Unit and Casey had adopted him. Each team member was extraordinary in his or her own way. Casey was the behaviorist, whose sharp mind and keen instincts about people, their body language, their responses and reactions, was the cornerstone of Forensic Instincts. Marc was a true right handbrilliant at everything from his mental to his psychological to his physical capabilities. Ryan was both a strategic and a technical genius. Claire was a gifted intuitive, a psychic in the eyes of most, although she hated that term, and preferred to refer to herself as a claircognizant. Patrick was a lifelong trained investigator. And Hero had an olfactory sense that was incomparable.
They were a very tight group, a real professional family. Any one of them would risk it all for the others. And that was a loyalty to which no dollar amount could be ascribed.
Now, Casey sat at the head of the table, fingers linked in front of her, and began the morning catch-up session.
As you all know, I had my second meeting with Daniel Olson last evening. Hes convinced that something ugly happened to his daughter. And Im apt to agree. He gave me every scrap of information he had on Jans life at the time of her disappearance. Theres nothing there to suggest that shed just take off without ever contacting her family again. So I took it another step.
She indicated the file on the table in front of her. I put this together. Its an assortment of newspaper articles relating to crimesand potential crimesagainst college-age girls in the New York City area during the five-year period surrounding the time when Jan vanished. Ryan, Id like you to assimilate all this and set up a database we can follow.
Ryan leaned back in his chair and eyed Casey for a second, then spoke up in his usual blunt manner. Okay. But before we get into details, can we address the elephant in the room?
Claire Hedgleigh winced. Ryans oblivion to sensitive subjects never ceased to astound her. He might be brilliant, but he was about as tactful as a freight train.
I think we should stick to the facts of the case, she said, shooting Ryan a hard stare. We have an investigation to conduct.
Stick to the facts? Ryan looked more amused than put off. Thats a joke coming from you, Claire-voyant. You get inside peoples heads and play touchy-feely with inanimate objects. Now youre suddenly the scientist of the group?
Shes just being sensitive to my feelings. Casey broke up the argument before it could begin. She took a deep breath, then continued. Look. You all know varying amounts about my personal connection to this case. Ill lay out the whole thing for you in a short summary, and then well all be on the same page. But, as Patrick so astutely pointed out to me, the only way Ill find any level of peace or closure in my own situation is to throw myself into this investigation. So once Ive spoken my piece, lets leave it and get to what mattersfinding out what happened to Jan Olson.
Quietly and succinctly, she retold the story shed told Patrick last night.
So the man who raped and killed your friend and whoevers responsible for Jan Olsons disappearanceyou do think its the same person, Ryan responded the instant shed finished. Hed known enough about Caseys past to have skimmed the surface of Holly Stevenss tragic murder.
I dont know anything, Casey replied. Other than the fact that the victimology is the same, as is the time frame. I dont see any overlaps in the two girls lives. So I cant allow myself to assume anything.
Yeah, but its a very real possibility. Ryan studied Casey with those probing blue eyes. The bottom line is, youre never going to be objective about this case. Do you think you should turn over the reins to one of us?
Probably. But Im not going to. Casey spoke as bluntly as Ryan, meeting his stare head-on. She wasnt offended by his directness; that was Ryan. He spoke his mind, but he didnt have a mean or disloyal bone in his body. I wont lie and say that solving Hollys murder wouldnt be cathartic for me. But my main goal is finding out what happened to Jan Olson. My skill set makes me best qualified to run the show. Plus, Im the boss. A glint of humor glittered in her eyes. That means the final decision is mine. And Ive made it.
Ryan nodded. This was one of those times when arguing would be futile. This wasnt going to be put to a vote. Casey was making that infinitely clear.
Dont look so dubious. Casey responded to the expression on Ryans face. Youre welcome to call me on the carpet if I get off track. A quick glance around the room. You all are. She opened the file. Ive scanned the notes from my two interviews with Daniel Olson, plus all the documents in this file. Yoda?
Dont look so dubious. Casey responded to the expression on Ryans face. Youre welcome to call me on the carpet if I get off track. A quick glance around the room. You all are. She opened the file. Ive scanned the notes from my two interviews with Daniel Olson, plus all the documents in this file. Yoda?
Everything is stored on the Forensic Instincts server dedicated to current investigations, Yoda replied. Including several photos of Jan Olson at age nineteen. All the pertinent material is indexed and readily available to the entire team.
Good. Casey nodded. Ive divvied up initial assignments. She looked from Ryan to Marc. Jan was a typical college kid. She didnt exactly confide in her father. So hes not the best source of information. But he did give me the name of Jans best friend. Its Brenda Miller. I dont know where she is, if shes married or single or if she still goes by that name. Ryan, you find out. Marc, you go and talk to her. Get the full picture on Jan Olson. Boyfriends, friends, roommates, favorite hangouts, state of mindanything Brenda can remember. Including enemies.
Done, Marc responded.
Once Marc has that info, Ill track down all those people, Ryan said.
Caseys gaze flickered to Patrick. After that, you and Marc split the list and interview each and every person on it. We need to build a real profile on Jan Olson.
And fast, Patrick said. So, at the same time, Ryan can build a real timeline on her activities.
No problem. Ryan scribbled down some notes. Besides setting up that database, Ill start poking into Jans college schedules. Her transcripts will be on file. Thatll give me her coursework and her professors. Its a good start.
Casey nodded again. Claire, you, Hero and I are meeting with Daniel Olson early this evening at his home in Brooklyn. Jan grew up there. Her bedroom is still relatively unchanged. Mr. Olson has agreed to let you explore her room and handle any personal articles youre drawn to. Hes also agreed to let Hero sniff out the area. Well make some scent pads. I know its been fifteen years. But they still might come in handy.
Hell, yes, Ryan agreed. Hero can isolate her scent in a dorm or apartment where hundreds of people have lived since. Right, boy?
The bloodhound gazed at Ryan and let out a quiet woof. He recognized his name. He knew he was being discussed. And he sensed the serious atmosphere in the room. Thanks to his training in the FBI Canine Unit, hed be as disciplined about performing his job as any other FI team member.
Casey, did you request your friend Hollys file? Marc asked.
Yes. The precinct is going through their fifteen-year-old cold case files to hunt it down. I should have it sometime today. I doubt theres anything substantive in it. Its probably a one-page complaint and a one-page police report. But definitely review it once we have it in our hands. Maybe youll see a fact or a correlation there that I missed or have forgotten.
No one said it aloud, but they all knew that Casey hadnt forgotten a damned thing about Hollys murder. She had a steel-trap mind even when it applied to cases she wasnt personally vested in. And in this situation? Shed recall every minute detail.
Well all review it as soon as it comes in, Marc replied, tactfully sidestepping the obvious. Well also dig more deeply into Hollys life. There might be things about her you didnt know, things that match up with Jan Olsons lifeincidents, activities, people. Ryans database will be key in determining that. But, in the interim, if one of us spots a clue or a connection, youll hear about it. Also, while we wait, Im going to review the details of your second interview with Daniel Olson. Maybe I can find another starting point we havent considered.
And Im going to do an in-depth search on Holly Stevens. Ryan stated his intentions up front. I want to have a workup to go along with your memories and that skinny police report. The more we know about her before the file even reaches us, the faster we can act.
If Ryan expected Casey to be upset, he was wrong.
I agree with you, she told Ryan. Find out whatever you can. Patrick and I pored over Jan Olsons file last night, and nothing jumped out at me. Youre right. Holly and I were friends. But she could have been involved in any number of things with any number of people I knew nothing about. So dig hard. If theres even the slightest parallel between Hollys and Jans lives, I want to pounce on it.
* * *
Tim Grant was a prison guard at Auburn Correctional Facility. He didnt make a hell of a lot of money, and he had two daughters in high school whom he wanted to put through college. Lacy was an All-State soccer player and Sarahs grades were sky-high. But in todays world, neither was enough to ensure a scholarship to a good school. So he worked a second job for a private security company. One of the guys he worked with, Bob Farrell, was a retired NYPD detective from the Twenty-sixth Precinct, the precinct in which Columbia University fell. Bob had a beautiful vacation house in the Thousand Islands, and a new young wife who spent money faster than his retirement checks could pay the credit card companies. Not to mention his whopping alimony checks and four grandkids he liked to spoil. So he needed extra cashlots of it.
Bob had kept up his ties to the precinct and nurtured relationships with others, more than enough so that he could gain information about current casesespecially ones that precinct captains were way too busy to care about. The Jan Olson case fell into that category, particularly since it had been farmed out to Forensic Instincts. So when Tim asked him to dig into the investigation and find out what was going on, it was an easy assignment to fulfill. And it came as no surprise that the information was being requested, given that part of his job was to keep tabs on whatever Forensic Instincts was doing.
Passing along whatever he learned to Tim was a welcome task, considering the generous payment he got in return. He knew that Tim made a bundle from the arrangement, and that was just fine with him. After all, Tim was the one who took the risk and delivered the information. Bob didnt know the name of the prisoner who received it. And he didnt want to know. He had a creepy feeling that the guy pulling the strings was one scary felon.
Tim was thinking much the same thing as he approached Glen Fishers cell that afternoon. He glanced inside, caught a glimpse of Fisher lying on his cot and found his gaze drawn to the sketch the inmate was working on. The minute he saw it, he flinched, wishing hed never looked. The perverse drawing was like all the others. It depicted the figure of a woman sprawled on the ground, covered by more slashing strokes of bright red than his stomach could take. The guy was a psycho. Tim didnt doubt it for a minute. He not only saw it in his drawings, he felt it every time Fisher stared him down, emotionlessly reiterating what was expected of him. The look in Fishers eyes was terrifyingempty as death. With his usual sense of dread, Tim did what he had to, comforting himself with the fact that this nutcase was never getting out of here and could therefore do nothing with the information he was given but indulge his sick fantasies. At least that was what Tim prayed.
Hey, he said quietly, standing close to the cell.
Fisher rolled over and rose from his cot, putting down his drawing materials and walking over to face Tim through the iron bars.