The Girl Who Disappeared Twice (24 page)

Peg nodded, pursing her lips. “Agreed.”

“I understand the motivation for her to kidnap Felicity Akerman,” Sergeant Bennett interceded. “But where does Krissy Willis come in? It’s over thirty years later. Where’s the connection—besides the obvious blood ties between Felicity and Krissy?”

“It could still be someone’s vendetta,” Lynch answered. “If DeMassi and his son, or another mob soldier is pulling the strings, the choice of victims could be theirs.”

“On the other hand,” Hutch interceded, “if the psychological implications Casey is suggesting are true, then Linda Turner would have filled Anna’s void with Felicity. And when Felicity grew up, the void would reappear. So she wouldn’t need much convincing to do a repeat performance, this time with Krissy.”

“Krissy would take Felicity’s place,” Casey agreed aloud. “That makes sense. And Patrick, I know Sidney was our ace in the hole. But I’m no longer convinced there’s a mob tie-in here. I think we might be barking up the wrong tree. Linda’s motivation is emotional and psychological. She wants—needs—to replace her dead daughter. She could be acting on her own.”

“Meaning Sidney was just a wrong-place, wrong-time scenario.”

“Exactly.” A hard swallow as Casey turned to Hutch and steeled herself for the inevitable answer to what she was about to ask. “At what age would a child like Felicity become dispensable?”

“Based on your theory—which I think holds water—when Felicity reached an age where she no longer needed a ‘mommy’ and/or no longer reminded Linda of Anna. Before puberty, would be my guess.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Casey persisted. “Vera Akerman has been in touch with Linda over the years. And, at no point, did she go to pieces. How do you explain that?”

Hutch’s jaw tightened. “There could be several reasons. Either the void in her life was filled by someone else, like a man.”

“Or?”

“Or there could have been other children in between Felicity and Krissy. Children that Linda abducted on her own.”

“Oh, God.” Casey felt ill.

“What about the quarter of a million dollars that Hope Willis paid?” Bennett asked. “Where does the ransom money come in?”

“It was either a hoax generated by some arbitrary bastard cashing in on the Willises’ panic, or a way to throw us off track,” Hutch deduced. “I doubt that Linda required a payoff. Not with motives that, as Casey said, are clearly emotional and psychological.” A pause. “There is one other possibility. Linda could need money to raise her ‘child.’ Ransom would be a way of getting it.”

“Yes, it would,” Casey murmured. “Especially if Linda plans on keeping Krissy for years.”

A heavy silence hung in the room.

“So we’re all in agreement,” Peg concluded at last. “We’ve got to find Linda Turner.” She glanced over at Ryan. “Since you’ve already jumped the gun, do you have anything for us on her whereabouts?”

Ryan frowned. “She’s fallen off the map. When the local cops checked out her house, they found it deserted, the phone line disconnected. But there’s no indication that she moved—no forwarding address, nothing on the internet, zilch. I’m not giving up. I’m going back to the office to start digging again. I’ll find her.” He looked at Casey. “Does Vera Akerman have a picture of Linda Turner?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll find out. I have to talk to her, Hope and Edward anyway, and fill them in on where things stand.”

“Tell them only what you have to,” Peg cautioned.

“I will.”

“If you can get me a photo, I’ll use my age-enhancing software to create an image of Linda as she would look today,” Ryan said. “I’ll email what I come up with to your BlackBerry so Hope’s mother can see it and suggest whatever modifications are necessary. Once that’s done, we’ll have something to distribute.”

“Good. Because Marc and I are heading up to Linda’s house right after this meeting.” Casey was frank. Even if Peg gave her a hard time, she wasn’t going to lie.

“A handful of us will be up there, too,” Peg replied. “We need to determine how long Linda’s been gone. Logically, she’s with Krissy.” Peg shot Casey a warning look. “Don’t impede our investigation, Casey. You’ve already stepped way over the line.”

“We won’t. When it comes to this, we know you’re the experts.” Casey glanced respectfully at Sergeant Bennett. “With your permission, I’d like to bring Claire with us. She might pick up on some energy that will help us. And we’re bringing Hero, too. He’s out in Marc’s car. I want him there when ERT is collecting Linda Turner’s scent—to sniff
after
they’ve completed their official search,” she hastily added, referring to the FBI’s Evidence Response Team.

“I have no problem with that,” Bennett replied.

“Nor do I.” Peg turned to Hutch. “You and Grace work up a new profile. Highlight the following. Female in her mid-sixties. A loner. Photo to follow. Seen with the five-year-old kidnapping victim whose picture we distributed. I want you to call a meeting of the remaining members of the task force. I want every pair of eyes on the lookout for Linda Turner, or someone or something that can lead us to her. Don, pick a few of your people. Same with the North Castle P.D. Patrick, you’re welcome to join us. We’re taking off now.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The wooden house looked like all the others in the area.

It was modest, with pale blue shutters and white clapboard walls. Set back from the road, the house was surrounded by several acres of woods. The grounds and gardens hadn’t been tended to, and there were weeds growing all around the lake out back.

Clearly, Linda had wanted to block out the memory of what had happened there.

The task force, along with the Evidence Response Team that Peg had summoned, went inside first, checking the place for clues as to Linda’s whereabouts. Casey and her team stayed outside, waiting to be allowed in. Ditto for Patrick, who stood as still as a statue, his gaze fixed on the house, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

Claire was with them, walking the grounds, stopping occasionally to lean over and touch the dead flowers in the garden, and concentrating intently. Hero zigzagged across the lawn, sniffing, his leash clutched in Marc’s hand.

Casey paced around impatiently, frustrated at being kept out. But there was nothing else she could do until ERT had finished checking for physical evidence.

Nothing but think.

She’d told Hope and Vera the basics before taking off. Edward had been at the office. Hope had come alive at the prospect of a real lead. Vera, on the other hand, had refused to believe that Linda was involved. She was stunned to learn about Anna, since she hadn’t even known of her existence. But she insisted that Linda’s daughter’s death must have made her all the more compassionate about Felicity’s abduction. Nobody should have to bear the loss of a child, she’d told Vera repeatedly. And she’d attended every one of the prayer vigils after Felicity’s disappearance. How could she have faked that level of concern?

Casey viewed Linda’s actions and statements in a far different light. But she’d seen reactions like Vera’s before. She was in denial. Even so, Casey could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes. Somewhere inside her, Vera was afraid that what she was being told was true. And that would mean she’d befriended the very woman who’d stolen her daughter, destroyed her life and now kidnapped her granddaughter.

Having heard Casey’s request for a photograph, Vera had disappeared to her room, returning to present Casey with a photo from Felicity’s soccer camp. The staff was in the back row. Vera pointed at a slender, dark-haired woman with a gracious smile that didn’t quite match the sober look in her eyes and told Casey that that was Linda.

Casey couldn’t help but notice that Linda’s height and build could easily have passed for Hope’s. She didn’t say that aloud. She merely thanked Vera and gave the photo to Ryan.

Vera looked ill. This potential truth was almost unbearable.

But not nearly as unbearable as it would be to hear Casey’s theory about Felicity being replaced by a series of other children, all of whom would have been disposed of when they hit a certain age. A mad cycle that Krissy could very well be taking her place in.

The very thought made Casey’s stomach turn.

The ringing of her cell phone interrupted her thoughts.

She answered ASAP. “Yes, Ryan?”

“Obviously, no hospital’s computer records date back thirty years,” he began without preamble. “But the hospital Linda Turner worked at does have archived records in storage. So I drove there, made a few friends.”

“Female, no doubt,” Casey inserted drily.

“Yeah, well, they just finished digging around for me. It’s bizarre, Casey. There are no records of Felicity at all. Not of her E.R. visit, not of her follow-ups—nothing. There are, however, records of a girl matching Felicity’s description arriving in the E.R. that day with a broken arm. All the dates and procedures match the ones Vera Akerman gave us of Felicity.”

“So the hospital screwed up.”

“I’d say no to that one.” Ryan had that voice again, the one that said he was about to deliver a bombshell. “According to the file, the girl with the broken arm was Anna Turner.”

Casey started. “Oh my God.”

“It’s like Felicity’s existence there was wiped clean, and replaced by Linda’s daughter.”

Linda’s house was barren. Her clothing and toiletries were gone. Her fridge was cleaned out. The evidence suggested that she hadn’t been living here for some time now. Which meant she was probably living in the place she’d set up for Krissy.

They had to find her. She was the key to everything.

The key to finding Krissy.

The FBI task force canvassed the neighborhood. Using the photos Ryan had created, they showed Linda’s picture to neighbors, local business owners, anyone and everyone they could think of. Clearly the woman had been a total recluse. A few neighbors who were longtime residents of the area recognized her, but none of them had seen her in as long as they could recall. The local pharmacy had never done business with her. Nor had any of the local merchants. And if she had any doctors, they weren’t in this area.

A core team, including Peg and Don, continued combing the house. Casey and Marc stayed with them. So did Patrick and Claire. And, of course, Hero. Marc covered the entire house with him, letting him sniff every nook and cranny, along with the scent samples ERT had collected. Even with her personal items gone, Linda had lived here. Which meant her scent was the one thing she’d left behind.

“She didn’t want to be recognized.” Peg stated the obvious. “So whatever supermarkets, drugstores, or health care professionals she dealt with, they’re located elsewhere.”

“What about employment?” Casey asked. “She’d need a stream of income—assuming she wasn’t the one who got Hope to part with the ransom money. Do we widen the search?”

“Yes.” Don nodded. “We need to check neighboring towns. She wouldn’t go far, not given how reclusive she is. But we have to act fast.”

“I’ll get more manpower up here.” Peg whipped out her phone. “We’ll expand the search area. Meanwhile, let’s keep exploring the house with a fine-tooth comb. There has to be something—a receipt, a paycheck stub, something—that she left behind that would give us a clue as to what she did, where she shopped, what places she frequented.”

Claire was standing at the top of the basement stairs. “I need to go down there,” she murmured. “I know you swept the place and found nothing. But I still need to go down there. I’m not sure why—not yet.”

With that, she descended the staircase.

“I’ll bet that’s where Linda kept Felicity,” Casey said. “People repeat patterns they’re comfortable with, and Claire keeps referring to a basement. If Linda’s holding Krissy in the basement of wherever she is, she must have done the same here with Felicity.” Turning and speaking to Peg and Sergeant Bennett simultaneously, she asked, “May I go down with Claire?”

Neither of them had a problem with that.

So Casey hurriedly descended the steps.

Claire was standing in the middle of the room, looking around as if she were seeing something more than an empty basement with a concrete floor and cinder-block walls. From the distant expression in her eyes, she wasn’t even aware of Casey’s presence.

Slowly, she crossed over to the far wall, pressing her palm against the surface, then sliding it up and down.

“A bed,” she said in a soft, faraway voice. “With a canopy. The bedspread has roses on it. Roses, for Briar Rose. Princess Aurora. The bed is for her. And the canopy is embroidered with pictures of Flora, Fauna and Merryweather.”

Sleeping Beauty, Casey thought. Claire was describing Sleeping Beauty.

“She doesn’t feel like a princess,” Claire continued in that same dreamlike tone. “She’s scared. She wants her mommy, her daddy and her sister. She doesn’t understand why she’s here. And she doesn’t understand her new name. It’s not hers. She’s not who she’s supposed to be. She just wants it to go away. She just wants to go home.”

Casey stayed frozen in place, determined not to interrupt Claire’s musings. Clearly, she was talking about Felicity. This was the room in which she’d been held captive.

Claire’s words were heartbreaking. There were tears on her cheeks. “She’s curled close to this wall. As far away as she can get. But she knows it’s not far enough. Her legs are tucked under her. She’s afraid of the dark. And it’s always dark down here. Except for the night-light and the little lamp on her nightstand.” Claire pressed her palm hard against the wall. “It’s not a fairy tale. It’s a nightmare. Why did this happen to her? She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t want to.”

An odd expression crossed Claire’s face. “Pain. Resignation. Acceptance.” Her eyes flickered open. “She’s gone,” she whispered. “Gone for good.” For a long moment, she stared at her hand. Then, she let it drop to her side. She looked exhausted and utterly defeated.

“Claire?” Casey said tentatively.

Claire glanced over at her. “Felicity was here.”

“I know. I could tell by what you were saying.”

“This wall,” Claire murmured. “She spent hours pressed against it, trying to emotionally escape. That’s how I could still pick up on her presence after all these years. A residue of her energy was left behind. It’s gone now.” A shaky sigh. “So we know Linda Turner was the kidnapper. Or at least one of them. She kept Felicity in this basement. That’s why she’s repeating herself with Krissy. Another basement, another princess room.”

“Do you feel Krissy’s energy here, as well?” Casey asked quickly.

“No.” Claire shook her head. “Krissy was never here. Either Linda moved beforehand, or she chose a different location to make sure she didn’t get caught. Either way, she never brought Krissy to this house.”

Casey walked over and looped an arm around Claire’s shoulders. The poor woman was shaking. This experience had taken a lot out of her.

“Let’s go upstairs.” Casey spoke in a gentle voice. “We’ll tell the task force what you felt and saw.”

“Assuming they believe me,” Claire replied with sad resignation.

Casey couldn’t argue that one. “We’ll just have to hope ERT turns up some evidence from this room.”

For the first time, Casey understood the crippling frustration Claire endured in situations like this. It was bad enough to see the dubious expressions on the faces of the task force. What was worse was the utter helplessness of knowing there wasn’t a damned thing they could do to utilize Claire’s information. Casey didn’t care about the inadmissibility of what Claire had seen and felt. She would have jumped on this anyway, unencumbered by the limitations of law enforcement. What she cared about was the fact that she had nothing concrete that could lead them to Linda Turner.

Only the confirmation that they were looking for the right person.

“Did you find anything in the house?” Casey asked Peg.

“Nothing of significance.” Peg looked as frustrated as Casey felt. “A couple of take-out menus. A broken plate in the garbage. And a roll of red string in a corner of the master bedroom. We don’t need any of it. ERT had more than enough to establish that Linda Turner lived here. And they dusted for prints everywhere—including the basement—for proof that Felicity Akerman had been here. But, when push comes to shove, even if all the fingerprints match up and everything Claire said was true, it means nothing. Not in the here and now. Felicity Akerman is gone. We need to find Krissy Willis.”

Casey nodded. “Nothing else?”

“Scraps of paper with nothing written on them, an empty journal and an equally empty calendar. Obviously, Linda Turner wasn’t keeping track of things, at least not in a place she left for us to find.”

With that, Peg’s phone rang.

She snatched it and answered. “Harrington.”

A minute of silence, as Peg listened.

“Good. I want it analyzed yesterday. Call me back with specifics.”

Casey waited, staring at Peg. Judging from the special agent’s reaction, this call had yielded something that mattered.

“That was ERT,” Peg said in answer to Casey’s questioning look. “Evidently, when they swept the medicine cabinet in the master bath, they retrieved a pill. Turns out it’s definitely a prescription med. They’re having it analyzed ASAP.”

“If it was a prescription, that will tell us, not only what Linda Turner was taking, but perhaps what medical condition she was being treated for. With that info as a starting point, we’ll canvass all the pharmacies. Even if she used an assumed name, this will help.”

“I want the pharmacy
and
the doctor,” Peg replied. “Let’s just hope it’s a less common drug, and not something for insomnia or depression. If we can narrow things down, this could be the break we’ve been hoping for.”