The Girl Who Disappeared Twice - Andrea Kane

Andrea Kane

The Girl Who Disappeared Twice

© 2011

PROLOGUE

Westchester County, New York

Summer, thirty-two years ago

When six-year-old Felicity Akerman went to bed that night, she had no idea that life as she knew it was about to change forever.

She settled under the light cotton blanket and put her head on the pillow, her long blond hair tied back in a ponytail because of the heat. She was wearing her favorite short-sleeve nightshirt with the bright orange soccer balls on it. She had to wear it tonight. It was like a gold star on a perfect spelling test. A prize. A big win.

Thats what todays game had been. The doctor hadnt been too sure about letting her play. Neither had her mom and dad. But shed talked them into it, and gotten the okay she was holding her breath for. No one understood how miserable shed been, sitting on the sidelines all summer long since she broke her arm. But it was better now. No more cast. No more pain. No reason to wait.

Shed proved that today on the playing field at Pine Lake Soccer Camp. Shed scored three out of her teams four goals.

With a happy smile, she rolled onto her right side, reflexively protecting the left arm that had been in a cast for seven long, hateful weeks. Her smile widened as she remembered she didnt have to do that anymore. She wriggled her fingers and bent her elbow. Free. She was finally free. And finally her team leader again.

The bedroom curtains rustled as a warm summer breeze blew in through the window. Her mom had left it halfway open before she went out. The summer air felt good. It swirled around the room. It smelled like flowers. It acted like a lullaby.

Felicity shut her eyes, her fingers still wrapped around a fold in her nightshirt. Next to her, her sister said something in her sleep and flopped onto her back. She hated sleeping alone when their parents were out. Normally Felicity liked her room to herself-sharing the same face, same hair, and same birthday with her sister was enough. But tonight she was so happy that she didnt mind. Besides, they werent alone. Deidre was right down the hall, listening to her cassette player and singing along. Her voice was really awful. The two girls giggled about that all the time. But they never said anything to Deidre. She was their babysitter, and she was very bossy. She was also eighteen and starting college. That made her practically a grown-up. And their mom and dad always told them they had to be respectful of grown-ups.

Even Deidres bad singing wasnt enough to keep Felicity awake. Lots of physical activity after lots of sitting around had really worn her out. She drifted off to sleep.

She didnt see the window slide open the rest of the way. She didnt see the silhouette of a figure climb inside and cross silently over to the bed, going straight to her sister. Nor did Felicity see the intruder force a damp handkerchief over her face. But she did hear a whimper.

Groggily, Felicity rubbed her eyes and turned over. Still half asleep, she could vaguely make out a human form dressed in a long, loose black hooded sweatshirt. The person was leaning over the other side of the bed. As Felicity watched, her sisters whimpering stopped, and she went very still.

Felicitys small body went rigid, and her eyes snapped open. She was suddenly and fully awake. Who was in their house?

But there was no time to find out. The intruder straightened, and a gloved hand was clamped down over Felicitys mouth. She started to squirm, fighting with all she had. The sleeve of the sweatshirt brushed her forehead. Damp, with a funny smell. Like orange medicine.

The gloved hand lifted, and a wet handkerchief with that same orange medicine smell was pressed down on Felicitys nose and mouth. The smell was awful. Felicity wanted to scream. She couldnt. And she couldnt break free.

The room started spinning. Felicity caught a glimpse of her sister. It looked like there were two of her. And Deidres singing sounded far away.

The stinky smelling handkerchief won.

Everything went black.

CHAPTER ONE

Manhattan, New York

Present day

The bar smelled like stale beer and sweat.

Casey Woods shifted in her seat, which was situated far away from the social hub of the place. She rolled her glass between her palms. It was filled with whatever was on tap that the waiter had brought her. Taking a sip, she looked nervous but wistful among the slew of college kids milling around the East Village hangout.

She was one of those kids. Or trying to be. She was a wannabe-a shy and naive misfit, on the outside, looking in. Hungry to be welcomed into the inner circle.

She reached around and fiddled with a strand of her long red hair, which was tied back, giving her a more youthful appearance. Her gaze darted around, flickering, every so often, over her target. He was in his early thirties, perched on the first bar stool. Whenever she glanced his way, he was usually staring at her.

The time ticked by slowly. Casey made sure to openly, if shyly, eye the hunkiest-looking guys, changing her demeanor from hopeful to unsure or dejected. Every guy she focused on eventually left, either with a group of friends, or with a girl hed hooked up with.

At just past three-thirty in the morning, the bartender started closing up, and the bar emptied out. With just a few stragglers left, Caseys hopes for the night were ostensibly dashed. Her lashes lowered in an expression of utter defeat.

Slowly, she rose, reaching into her messenger bag for some cash. As shed planned, the bag slid off her shoulder and plopped on the floor, contents spilling everywhere. Flushed with embarrassment, she squatted down and began stuffing things back into her bag-her wallet, makeup, and fake student ID.

From her peripheral vision, she saw the man at the end of the bar rise, toss some bills on the counter and walk out with the last few stragglers.

It was 4:00 a.m. Closing time.

Despite the pointed glare of the bartender, Casey took her time replacing the contents of her bag, rearranging them as she did. She kept her wallet out long enough to slap some bills on the table. Then she made her way to the door.

The bartender locked it behind her.

Casey sucked in her breath and turned, making sure to follow the same route shed been taking all week. Shed set the pattern. But tonight shed stayed at the bar later. The streets were emptier. The timing was right.

She steeled herself as she walked past the alley near Tompkins Square Park. She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead.

She heard Fishers footsteps an instant before he grabbed her. His arm clamped around her waist, his free hand pressing a knife to her throat. Too hard. Too fast. No taunting. This was not how shed planned it. And now he had her.

Dont fight. Dont scream. Dont even breathe. Or Ill slit your throat.

Casey complied. She didnt have to fake her trembling, or the fear that stiffened her body. Silently, she talked herself down, reminding herself why she was doing this. She offered no resistance as Fisher dragged her into the alley. The psychopathic SOB shoved her down on the filthy concrete ground, kneeling over her, a glittering look of triumph in his eyes. He kept the knife at her throat, using his other hand to tear at her jeans.

The button popped. But the zipper never gave.

Marc Deveraux made sure of that.

Emerging from the shadows like a predator in the wild, he lunged at the would-be rapist with all the strength of his powerful build. He yanked Fishers knife-wielding arm up and away from Casey, then slammed down on his forearm until Fishers bones made a cracking sound and the knife clattered to the ground.

Fisher howled with pain.

Im just getting started, Marc promised menacingly. He dragged Fisher up and slammed his back against the wall. You okay? he called out to Casey, who was scrambling to her feet.

A hell of a lot better than I was thirty seconds ago, she managed.

Good. He turned his attention back to Fisher. Talk, he ordered, one knee pushed into Fishers groin and one elbow digging into his windpipe.

The girl came on to me, Fisher said, then yelped, sweat beading on his forehead. She- His breath caught as Marc increased the pressure of his knee.

Wrong answer. Tell me about your plans for this girl-and what you did with all the others. He leaned closer, until his face nearly touched the other mans. You dont want to know what I am or what Im capable of. Compared to me, youre a Girl Scout. His elbow shoved deeper, cutting off most of Fishers oxygen. Now tell me about the girls-all of them. And dont spare any details. Im a captive audience.

It took longer than expected to get Fishers confession. It took a Navy SEALs thumb dug deeply into his collarbone, causing blinding pain that persisted long after the pressure was removed, and the threat that a repeat performance would increase the pain tenfold if thats what it took to make the perp talk-assuming his neck didnt snap first. The bastards cold-blooded confession had made bile rise in Caseys throat. He might be going to jail for a long, long time, but Casey wished they were throwing away the key for good.

Im done here, Marc, she told her rescuer. Otherwise Im going to be sick.

Go, he urged quietly. Ill wrap things up here and head over to the precinct. The bodies will be found. Any claim of coercion will be tossed. Its a murderers word against ours. The confession will stick. Go home.

Home was a four-story Tribeca brownstone that was residence and office combined. There was no beating that. One mortgage. One place that held all her worldly possessions. And no commute. It was ideal.

Of course, she rarely made it up to the fourth floor, which was supposedly where she slept. Her bed was a casual acquaintance, if not a stranger. She virtually lived in her office. That was her choice. One she made every day. And she wasnt sorry.

With a quick glance around the reception level, she turned left and climbed the L-shaped staircase to the second floor. Directly ahead, shed had French doors installed-doors that led out to a balcony overlooking the manicured garden in a gated backyard. Colorful flower beds. A maze of closely trimmed shrubs. And a pair of graceful willow trees on either side, rippling in the breeze. The entire effect was both serene and eye-catching.