Who are you calling?
Forensic Instincts.
Edward blinked. The profilers?
Yes, Hope confirmed. You know their track record. Its unbelievable. Five cases. Five successes. They find criminals. Serial killers. Rapists. And kidnappers. Theyre on the fast track. And they dont have a dozen other cases they have to work at the same time.
A scowl. We should check with the FBI first. What if the involvement of an independent organization puts Krissy in more danger?
It wont. Hope was talking so fast she was tripping on her words. Ive followed their work. They know just how to handle things. Your friends at the FBI might not like it, but I dont give a damn. A hard look at Edward as her index finger hovered over the send button. Ive been through this nightmare before. Im not losing Krissy.
I know what you went through. But you cant compare the two traumas. Its over three decades. Law enforcements capabilities have grown by leaps and bounds.
I dont care. I cant survive this again. Especially not when it comes to my daughter.
I understand. But-
Look, Edward, three decades ago or not, some things havent changed. Like the fact that an investigation can remain active for only so long. The last time the case went cold after two years. Im not chancing that again. Not with my baby. Dont bother arguing with me. Im doing this. Ill get them to drop anything theyre doing. Ill pay them whatever fee they ask for. Hope was finished waiting. She punched the green button and put the call through.
In Manhattan, I need the number for Forensic Instincts, LLC. Hope reached for a pad and pen.
Fine. If you feel that strongly about it, go ahead, Edward reluctantly conceded. But I want them working with law enforcement. Not independently.
If thats possible, great. If not- Hope shrugged, scribbling down the number. Having gotten what she wanted, she disconnected the call, and began furiously punching in the telephone number. The truth is, I dont give a damn about the cops or the FBIs internal politics. I dont give a damn about anything-except getting Krissy home safe and sound. So if Forensic Instincts methods are too unconventional to suit you-hello? Hope put her lips to the mouthpiece, her throat working as she spoke. Is this Casey Woods?
Speaking, a weary voice answered. And this is?
My name is Hope Willis. Judge Hope Willis. I live in Armonk. An hour and a half ago, my five-year-old daughter was kidnapped from her elementary school. The police are here. So is the FBI. But the minutes are ticking by. And the suspect list is way too long for them to tackle alone.
Really. And why is that?
Because Im a family court judge, and my husband is a criminal defense attorney. Weve racked up more grudge-holders and enemies than we can recall. Well try to compile a list, but itll be long. Plus, there are special circumstances involved that make this even more unbearable. I need to hire Forensic Instincts. Now. On an exclusive basis.
Because Im a family court judge, and my husband is a criminal defense attorney. Weve racked up more grudge-holders and enemies than we can recall. Well try to compile a list, but itll be long. Plus, there are special circumstances involved that make this even more unbearable. I need to hire Forensic Instincts. Now. On an exclusive basis.
There was a prolonged silence at the other end of the phone.
Special circumstances. An interesting and succinct choice of words. Plus, Casey could hear the repressed note in Judge Williss tone. The woman might be going through hell, but she was clearly holding something back. Half-assed candor didnt fly for her-no matter how dire the circumstances.
Im terribly sorry about your daughter, Casey responded. But my team and I are just coming off a very intense, draining investigation, and we have other cases that have been back-burnered because of that, and now require our attention. Im sure the FBI and the police will be on top of-
Theyre not enough, Hope interrupted. I need more than conventional methods. We cant afford to waste a second. Please. You know how crucial these first three hours are.
Yes, Casey replied soberly. I do. And theyre slipping away, she mentally noted.
Then will you come? Ill do anything. Pay anything. Follow your instructions to a tee. The last semblance of Hopes facade cracked. Please, Ms. Woods. Im begging you. Find my baby.
Casey had to cave. And not just because this case would mean big bucks for the company. But because instinct told her that the honesty and trust would come when they met in person. If not, the team would walk.
For now, a five-year-old child was missing.
Okay. Stay calm. Well do everything we can, she assured Hope, her entire demeanor softening. Hang on. A rustle as she snatched up a Post-it and pen. Give me your address. Then give us an hour.
CHAPTER THREE
Forensic Instincts showed up at the Willis house at the same time as the FBI. Watching them pull into the driveway, Casey immediately recognized the four special agents whod been contacted and deployed by the Crimes Against Children Unit at FBI Headquarters in D.C. They were one of the two Child Abduction Rapid Deployment teams in the Northeast, and consisted of specially trained agents from several different field offices, each of whom had dropped everything and taken off the instant theyd been contacted. Aware of how crucial these first post-abduction hours were, the CARD team was here to assist C-20, the New York Field Offices CAC squad, in tracking down Krissy Willis and bringing her home.
The team members now jumping out of their car consisted of Supervisory Special Agent Don Owens, and Special Agents Will Dugan, Guy Adams and Jack McHale. And Casey knew exactly which of them would be smiling at the sight of her teams arrival, and which of them would be exceedingly pissed off to see them.
Hey, Don. As she climbed out of the drivers seat, Casey waved at the seasoned agent who had to be nearing fifty-seven and mandatory retirement. He was hard-core, married to the Bureau, and yet he was more open-minded about Caseys team than some of the younger squad members. Go figure.
Casey Woods. Why am I not surprised to see you here? Owens acknowledged her with a slight smile, his trim gray mustache curving with his lips. Im lucky I sped to Logan, and that my shuttle flight from Boston arrived early. Otherwise, you would have already set up the FBIs Command Post and canvassed half the neighborhood.
Damn straight, Ryan muttered under his breath.
Casey rolled her eyes. Ryan was cranky. He hadnt gotten any of the sleep hed anticipated after closing the last case. Functioning on zero rest was Caseys specialty. She could operate on empty and make it seem full. She was able to push past her fatigue and get the job done. And Marc was a Navy SEAL to the core. He could run on sheer adrenaline. So Ryan was the cheese who stood alone. He was a royal pain in the ass when he went without sleep. At times like this, barring essential needs to communicate, Casey and Marc avoided him like the plague.
This place is going to be a circus, Ryan continued to mumble. The CARD team. The Feds. The county police. The locals. Cant we send them all back to their desks? A grunt. You know, leave us alone Ill hack into the little girls computer. Casey, you can run down the list of suspects, interrogate the right ones. Marc can beat the crap out of the scumbag who did this. Then youll size up his reactions until we figure out where he hid the poor kid. And Krissy Willis will be safe in her own bed before the miserable prick who took her can do his worst. After that, we can all go home and crash.
Before Casey could reply, Ryan spied the tall, slender woman who was squatting down just outside the Willises garage. Her brow was furrowed in intense concentration, and her delicate fingers were gliding over the streamers that dangled from the handlebars of what was clearly a little girls bicycle.
Oh, great, Ryan complained more loudly. Look whos here. Its Claire-voyant-the cops favorite psychic, doing her thing. Now, well be grilling suspects, and shell be clutching Krissy Williss dirty socks trying to get up in her head. I can hardly wait.
Casey stifled a smile. Claire Hedgleigh-Claire-voyant, as Ryan insisted on calling her-was a noted, self-described intuitive who consulted with several police departments, using her special skills to help solve cases. Casey and her team had crossed paths with her on a couple of cases. And Casey was more than impressed. Shed done extensive background research on Claire, both educationally and professionally.
Academically, Claire held a masters degree in Human Development and another in Transformative Theory and Practices. In addition, she had teaching accreditation from schools in the U.S., England and Australia in everything from psychic development to metaphysical sciences. And professionally, she had an A+ reputation and a three-year track record with the police. She was so good, in fact, that Casey was determined to lure her over to Forensic Instincts. Shed be a great addition to the team-once Casey broke the news to Ryan and pried the chip off his scientific shoulder. Instinct told her it wouldnt be as hard a sell as Ryan pretended. He and Claire interacted in a way that only masqueraded as combat. But both Marc and Casey recognized it as a smoke screen for something more.
At this point, Claire was rising to her feet. Tall and willowy, with pale blond hair and light gray eyes, Claire had a gentle, ethereal quality about her that suited her calling. Now, she released the bicycle handlebars, brushed a strand of hair off her cheek and spotted them. An exasperated expression crossed her face when she saw Ryan. Clearly, she was not in the mood for a verbal sparring match. And Ryan was practically vibrating to start one.
Caseys grin widened. An electrically charged tête-à-tête was definitely on the horizon. And Casey and Marc had already placed their bets on a timeline-and an outcome-for that.
For now, some barbed banter would be fine with her. The moments of levity would feel good. More than good. It would be like Novocain before a root canal. Because the latter was what they were about to walk into. Child abductions were among the toughest crimes to swallow.
Play nice, Ryan, she said drily as they approached the garage. Claire knows what shes doing. So dont give her too much crap.
Who? Me? he replied with mock innocence.
Who? Me? he replied with mock innocence.
Yeah. You look like a lion whos been prodded with a sharp stick. Relax. You can go back and hole up in your lair as soon as we get the lay of the land here. Casey reached Claire and stopped. Hi, Claire. Youre working this case?