The Girl Who Disappeared Twice (27 page)

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “The connection speed has dropped by seventy percent.”

“What does that mean?” Casey asked.

“It means that, at that rate, audio and video streaming is impossible.” He was already moving toward the door, crouched down so he didn’t whack his head. “I’ve got to find out what the problem is or we’re screwed.”

He pushed open the van doors and climbed out, peering in the direction of the Sunny Gardens grounds.

“Shit,” he exclaimed, seeing that the huge crane had moved directly between his van and Gecko, its large steel boom interfering with his wireless signal.

Without a clear line of sight, there was no way to accomplish their goal. The crane was showing no signs of moving and they couldn’t risk revealing their presence in any way.

He’d have to improvise.

“Bad news,” he told Casey and Marc as he boosted himself back into the van. He filled them in on the problem.

“What’s the solution?” Marc asked. “We’ve come way too far to give up. And the FBI task force is climbing up our asses.”

“There’s nothing I can do about the timing. But I can do something about the problem. I have to turn off the streaming and have Gecko internally record the audio and video, which we can play back at a later time.” As Ryan explained, he sent the instructions to Gecko. Gecko acknowledged, and the streaming video went blank, the audio silent.

“Later when?” Marc demanded.

“When you come back here tonight and retrieve my little critter. At that point, we can watch and listen to the events of the afternoon. And, with any luck, we’ll have what we need.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Getting onto the grounds of Sunny Gardens this time was going to be a little trickier.

Marc cruised slowly by the main entrance, scanning the front lawn and pinpointing the garden where Ryan’s little critter was stashed.

There was no way he could use the same section of fence as last time to gain entry. It was too far down. Last night, he’d been headed around back, to a deserted section of grounds that was shielded by the construction site. Tonight, he was aiming for dead center, the most open area of the front grounds. If he went back to the remote section of fence he’d scaled last time, it would require his making his way across the entire front lawn. The floodlights would pick him up in any one of a dozen spots.

Not feasible.

So that left the area near the front gates.

Marc’s gaze shifted, focusing on the small security booth at the entranceway. There was one guard inside. Fortunately, there was also one TV. And the guard was lounging in a chair, drinking a can of soda and staring at the screen. Judging from his reactions—an occasional display of annoyance and a few fist-clenching punches of joy in the air—Marc determined he was watching a game. The Yanks were playing the White Sox tonight. The first pitch had been thrown out by the Yankees at eight o’clock. It was nine-fifteen now.

Just to be sure, Marc pulled over in a section of trees where he could see the guard but the guard couldn’t see him. Marc turned on the radio, locating the station that broadcasted Yankee baseball. He listened—and watched the guard.

Sure enough, the Yanks pulled off an expert double play that finished off the bottom of the third inning. Simultaneously, the security guard leaned forward in his chair, his smile broad, his lips forming the emphatic word
yes!

Clearly, it was the same game.

Marc drove a short distance and made a U-turn, pulling off the road into a cluster of bushes on the same side of the street as the facility. Approximately two hundred yards before the main gate, the space was facing the direction Marc needed to go to head for home.

Last night, he’d planned on spending a block of time inside the building. Consequently, leaving his vehicle across the road and far away where it wouldn’t be spotted was imperative. Tonight was a grab and go. He needed his car as close to him as possible without being visible. His only task was to find and snatch Gecko, and get the hell out of there.

Bearing that in mind, he grabbed the small backpack he’d brought along, and quietly left his car. He crept down the grassy side of the road, pausing just to the right of the security booth, where the guard’s back was to him.

He waited for the next visibly exciting play of the game. The guard was at the edge of his seat, gripping his soda can tightly and staring at the screen.

Marc seized the opportunity.

He scaled the fence in a few smooth moves and dropped onto the grass inside. He squatted low, watching and waiting.

The guard was oblivious to anything but his evening entertainment.

Swiftly, without so much as a rustle, Marc sprinted across the lawn, moving between the gaps in the floodlight beams, until he reached the eastern garden. He squatted down and whipped out the penlight flashlight he kept in the pocket of his jeans. Flicking it on, he anchored it between his teeth and aimed it downward.

It took about two minutes to find the spot in the shrubbery that Ryan had described in detail. It took less time than that to retrieve Gecko, stick him in the backpack and retrace his steps to the fence.

Again, Marc remained crouched, waiting, sizing up the situation inside the security booth.

The guard was stretching. He scratched his head and looked idly around, using commercial time to do a perfunctory check of the area.

The game resumed. The guard’s scrutiny of his surroundings ended, and his attention shifted back to whichever Yankee was at bat.

Marc was up and over the fence, and on his way to his car before the ump could call strike one.

It was after eleven when Marc strode into the brownstone.

Casey and Ryan were pacing the floors. They jumped on Marc the instant he stepped inside.

“Did you find Gecko?” Ryan demanded.

“Yup.” Marc whipped the little critter out of his backpack and turned him over to Ryan. “Nice directions. He was right where you said he would be.”

“And no one saw you?” Casey asked, already knowing the answer.

Marc arched a brow. “A half-assed guard watching a Yankee game is not exactly a major challenge. And the positions of the floodlights were predictable as hell. Let’s face it, Casey, it’s a medical facility, not a terrorist compound.”

“I know. I wasn’t worried about the employees. I was worried about the task force.”

“No sign of them.”

“And I haven’t heard from Patrick. So, hopefully, we’re still ahead of the game.” Casey turned to Ryan. “What next?”

“Next we go to the conference room.” Ryan was already leading the way up the stairs.

Once inside, Ryan went straight over and plugged Gecko into a specially designed connector, where he began to recharge his battery and retrieve the information stored inside the little critter’s memory.

It didn’t take long for the first sights and sounds to come through.

Linda, sitting in the garden. Time passing as she gazed placidly around. Then impatience, followed by eagerness.

Abruptly, her eyes lit up and she began to wave her entire arm. “I’m here, baby. Right here.”

“Hi, Mama.” An eerily familiar voice reached their ears. “It’s so good to see you.”

Linda’s visitor came into view. She walked over, leaned down and hugged the older woman. Then, she straightened, and the camera got a full frontal view of her.

And all three of the Forensic Instincts team’s jaws dropped.

The person visiting Linda was Hope Willis.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Day Eight

Casey called Peg first thing the next morning, as she, Marc, Ryan and Hero headed up to Armonk in Ryan’s van.

“Nice of you to call,” Peg said in a chilly voice. “I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday.”

“Peg, where are you?” Casey asked.

“At the Willises. We’ll be leaving to interview a person of interest in a few minutes—
with
a warrant.”

“Are the Willises with you?”

“Yes. But they won’t be traveling with us.”

“I know who your person of interest is. Don’t go to Sunny Gardens,” Casey asked fervently. “Please. Not until we get to you. It’s urgent that you wait—
with
Hope and Edward. What we have for you is explosive.”

“Casey, I’m not playing games with you anymore. We have a job to do.”

“And you’ll do it perfectly once you have the missing pieces. If not, you’ll blow it all. Please stay put.”

A long pause. “How far away are you?”

“We can be there in forty-five minutes. Ryan’s flooring the gas.”

“Fine. Forty-five minutes is all you’ve got. Then we’re leaving.”

“Fair enough. We’ll be there.”

Patrick was pacing on the Willises’ front lawn when the van screeched up to the curb. He strode across the lawn and met Casey as she jumped out.

“What did you find?” he demanded.

“Something that will help solve both cases.” Casey was already hurrying toward the house. “I don’t know where Krissy is—yet. But I will.
We
will. Till then, I don’t believe she’s in danger.”

“You’d better be right. And your information had better be good.”

“I am and it is. What does the task force know?”

“Everything about Linda Turner. First of all, they drew the same conclusion we did. But they needed grounds to descend on Sunny Gardens. So they got them. Since Linda was clearly trying to keep her condition a secret, the task force got a list of doctors she’d worked with when she was employed by the hospital. In no time, they found the private practice of the semiretired doctor who was treating her. The pharmacy she used was two blocks away from his office.”

“Who gave them what they needed—the doctor or the pharmacist?”

“Both. All her medical records were confidential, but Peg spoke to one pharmacist who recognized Linda, and who said they hadn’t been supplying her with prescription meds for over a month. The pharmacist’s impression was that Linda was moving to an on-site facility. When the task force took that information to the doctor, and impressed upon him the urgency of the situation, the doctor confirmed that he’d recommended Sunny Gardens to Linda. Between that, and the fact that Claudia Mitchell was murdered right after interviewing at that facility…”

“The task force got the warrants they needed. So they were on their way to Sunny Gardens when I called.”

“Oh, yeah. They were furious about waiting. Peg put her neck on the line for you, amid lots of dissent. So, like I said, you’d better have some hard, solid evidence to give them.”

“And, like I said, I do.” Casey paused outside the front door. “Thank you, Patrick. I know how hard this was for you, not only because of how badly you want to solve the Felicity Akerman case, but because you strayed a hair from the straight and narrow.”

His jaw tightened. “I did it for one reason—I think you’re good enough to crack this without being bogged down by bullshit. That doesn’t mean I approve of your methods. It means I’m desperate enough to tolerate them.”

“Let’s get inside.” Marc had come up behind them, along with Ryan, who was carrying his laptop and the shocking video—
if
Peg chose to see it.

The whole group went inside, converging in the media room, where most of the task force, including Hutch and Grace, along with Claire, the Willises, and Vera and Sidney Akerman were waiting.

Hope practically raced forward, grabbing Casey’s arm with sheer desperation. “Did you find Linda? Was she at that place Sunny Gardens?”

“Yes.” Casey studied Hope intently, saw the genuine emotion in her eyes. Not that any confirmation was necessary. Still, she was relieved to get it.

“Did you talk to her? Did she tell you where Krissy was?”

Casey turned to Peg. In the process, she spotted Hutch, and tried to ignore the blazing fury in his eyes.

“Linda Turner has a new name and a surprising accomplice. Don’t ask me how I know. Just accept it as a hot tip. The sooner you can act on this, the better.”

“Go on,” Peg said curtly.

“She was admitted under the name Lorna Werner. You would have found that out the minute you showed her picture at the front desk. You also would have found out that talking to her is useless. She drifts in and out of reality, and she didn’t kidnap Krissy, although she certainly inspired it. If she has an inkling where Krissy is—which I doubt—she’d never be able to give us a coherent description, much less directions to where Krissy’s being kept. Only her accomplice can.”

“Is this accomplice mob related?” Sidney asked.

“No. Your mob ties had nothing to do with your granddaughter’s abduction.”

“So you know who Linda’s accomplice is,” Peg concluded.

“Yes.” Casey was both frank and blunt. “I can tell you, which would be hearsay. Or I can show you, and say we found this evidence outside the gates of Sunny Gardens, where a good Samaritan must have dropped it. Your choice.”

Peg glared at her. “Show me.”

Ryan produced a flash drive containing the data he’d copied off Gecko. He walked over to one of the FBI computers. “May I?”

“Go ahead.”

He inserted the USB drive and punched in a few commands on the keyboard.

A minute later, the video recording came up. First, Linda. Then, the familiar voice. Finally, the appearance.

A simultaneous gasp filled the room as Linda and her accomplice launched into their visit, which included some probing questions from her accomplice, obviously fishing to see if Linda had been approached by law enforcement, leading to genuine relief when she realized that she hadn’t.

“Hope?” Edward turned to her, white shock on his face. “What the hell—”

“It’s not your wife, Mr. Willis,” Casey interrupted. “We watched this video many times and with great care. Her body language, her choice of words, her delivery—they’re all completely different. That woman is impersonating Hope. But she isn’t Hope. She’s Felicity.”

“Oh my God.” Vera’s legs buckled under her, and Patrick Lynch caught her before she dropped to the floor. “Oh my God,” she whispered again, staring blankly at the monitor as Patrick eased her into a chair. He himself was stark-white. “Felicity is…alive?”

“Yes.” Casey nodded. “She’s been with Linda all these years. Once we realized that, all the pieces fell into place. Why it was so easy for the kidnapper to masquerade as Hope. Why I never saw anyone but Hope come and go at the ransom drop. How the kidnapper got in here to steal Hope’s pendant and Krissy’s toy—and to knock Ashley out when she surprised her.”

“Felicity must have used Krissy’s keys,” Edward surmised, obviously shaken to the core. “They were in her backpack, along with our alarm code and Krissy’s cell phone. All our numbers are programmed into that phone. That’s how she managed to call Ashley’s cell in order to bypass the phone taps and get to Hope for the ransom money.”

“Money she was probably planning to use to raise Krissy,” Casey continued. “It’s also why the gardener was so convinced he saw Hope enter the house when Ashley was checking the mail. And why Claudia Mitchell had an unexpected and fatal experience at Sunny Gardens. She must have freaked out when she spotted the woman she thought had fired her. She was filled with pent-up anger—after having to apply for a job that was beneath her, and dealing with a boyfriend who was being held by the police. I’m sure she blamed Hope for the whole fiasco. My guess? She went over to confront her, only to realize it wasn’t Hope after all. Talk about ammunition. We all thought it was a mob hit. But it wasn’t. It was a desperate act committed by a desperate woman.”

Reflectively, Don added, “The mob did everything they could to get us off their backs. How ironic. The one thing they
weren’t
guilty of was the very thing that might have gotten them caught.”

“So Felicity ran Claudia Mitchell off the road?” Hope asked, her voice quavering with shock and pain. “My sister is a murderer?”

Casey took Hope’s hand. “She’s not stable, Hope. She probably shattered completely when she thought Claudia was going to undo everything she’d done. Krissy means everything to her. She’s transferred all the love she felt for Linda to Krissy. She’s frantic to hold on to her. It’s the only way she can hold on to herself.”

“But she doesn’t even know Krissy,” Edward protested.

“It doesn’t matter.” It was Hutch who spoke up now. “Casey’s right. Linda Turner was Felicity’s mother for thirty-two years. She kept Felicity isolated from the world. Linda became Felicity’s lifeline. When Linda’s illness made it impossible for her to continue living on her own, Felicity panicked. She was losing her mother. The only way she could survive was to repeat the cycle. It gave her a sense of completion.”

“Stockholm syndrome,” Patrick said.

“Exactly.”

“But how did she find me…us…Krissy?” Hope asked weakly.

“That I don’t know,” Hutch replied. “On some level, Felicity knew who she was. She knew she had a twin. If she kept tabs on you that easily, my guess is, she isn’t far away. Especially if she visits Linda every week.”

“Dear God.” Vera buried her face in her hands. “Linda comforted me. She became my friend. And all the time, she had my baby. My Felicity.”

“That’s probably
why
she inserted herself in your life,” Casey said. “She wanted to stay on top of the investigation, to make sure no one suspected her.”

“And no one did.” Patrick’s tone was grim. “Including me. I always held out hope that Felicity was alive. But not this way.”

“None of us saw this coming.” Peg turned to Casey. “That’s why you didn’t want us going to Sunny Gardens.”

Casey nodded. “If you’d burst in there with a warrant, you’d risk upsetting Linda enough to call Felicity and blurt out something. Clearly, Felicity’s already wary. She must have heard rumors. That’s why she made that extra trip to see Linda yesterday. She customarily visits every Wednesday. But she wanted to see if law enforcement had been poking around. Right now, she’s probably feeling relieved. Which means she’ll have no reason to grab Krissy and run.”

“Today’s Tuesday,” Peg said. “Wednesday’s just one day from now.”

“So we wait,” Don qualified. “We remain patient and sit tight. Then, tomorrow, we stake out Sunny Gardens. We let Linda and Felicity have their visit. And when Felicity leaves, we follow her. She’ll lead us straight to Krissy.”

“How can we do that?” Hope asked, tears coursing down her cheeks. “I know that Felicity is my sister, and God help me for saying this, but we’re leaving an unbalanced woman with my five-year-old child. Who knows what she’s doing to her, and what she could keep doing to her until tomorrow afternoon?”

“She’s not harming her.” Claire spoke up for the first time. “Krissy’s scared. But she’s safe. Felicity’s created a virtual princess suite for her. She tried to replicate the one Linda made for her all those years ago. It’s her idea of a safe haven.” Claire paused, sage realization flickering in her eyes. “Now I understand my visions. I kept getting images of Hope—or the person I thought was Hope—interspersed with my images of Krissy. I couldn’t understand why. Or why I never got so much as a glimpse of the kidnapper. Now I realize I
was
seeing the kidnapper. Only it wasn’t Hope.”

“But Krissy’s safe?” Hope asked Claire pleadingly. “You’re sure?”

“She’s frightened. And she doesn’t understand why you haven’t come. But she’s physically unharmed.”

“And psychologically?”

“Psychologically she’s a lot better off enduring one more scary day than a long, scary lifetime,” Hutch stated flatly. “She’s only been gone a little over a week. I know that seems like a lifetime to you. But she’ll recover. On the other hand, if we miss this chance, we could lose her for good.”

“We don’t have a choice.” It was Edward who spoke, his tone hard and determined. “I want my daughter back. We lose nothing by waiting, since we have no clue where Felicity is hiding her. I don’t see a choice.”

Hope was still openly weeping. “She’s scared, Edward. She probably thinks we’ve abandoned her. Plus, she sees me, yet she knows it’s not me. Can you imagine how confusing and devastating that is to a child of five? Another day like that…it kills me that she has to go through this.”

“Keep your eye on the prize,” Casey said quietly. “It won’t ease your fear or worry, but it will give you the strength to go through with this. It’s the only way, Hope. The task force will surround the building. They’ll alert the Sunny Gardens staff. The minute Felicity arrives, they’ll know her car and her license plate. They’ll put a GPS tracking device on it. There’ll be plainclothes police and agents posted on the street. She’ll be followed and tracked from every direction. There’s no chance of her getting away.”

“I want you and your team there,” Hope stated flatly. It wasn’t a request. It was a demand that was aimed at the task force. “And I want to go with you.”

“Not a good idea, Judge Willis,” Peg intervened at once. “We’re perfectly capable of handling this alone. If there are too many people present, it could alert Felicity to the stakeout.”

Hope’s tearstained stare was unflinching. “Forensic Instincts did an extraordinary job of solving this case thus far. I’m sure they can manage to situate themselves on the scene without being spotted. As for me, I’m Krissy’s mother—and Felicity’s sister. I might be needed to defuse the situation. You can’t force me to stay away.”

“You’re right. I can’t. But I can strongly advise you. You’re emotionally involved. You have no objectivity, much less training. You’re more apt to jeopardize this operation rather than assist it.”

“Peg is right, Hope,” Casey inserted. “You have my word— Forensic Instincts will be there every step of the way. But she’s right about you accompanying us. You’re way too close to the situation. You could wind up putting yourself, and this stakeout, at risk. I agree with Peg’s advice. Stay here. Be patient. We’ll call you the minute we have something.”