by Andrea Kane
You look like you belong here. Which is good, since there’s no escape. Even though right now that’s all you’ll want to do.
When you wake up, you’ll cry. Beg. And finally withdraw. You’ll have that haunted look in your expressive blue-green eyes.
It’s my job to erase that. To change your mind about being here. To make you want this to be your home.
I will. I’m the only one who can.
I got all the tools I need from your book bag. You’ll have nothing to do but comply.
Sweet dreams, Krissy. It will all begin when you wake up.
Ashley hastily disconnected her call the minute Casey walked into the kitchen. She looked jumpy—like someone who was either at the end of her rope, or had something to hide—as she met Casey’s stare.
“Hi…” she said in a tentative voice.
“Hello, Ashley.” Casey extended her hand. “My name is Casey Woods, and my organization is working with the Willises to help find Krissy.”
“Organization?” Ashley shook Casey’s hand, her own skin warm from holding the cell phone, and damp with nerves. “You’re not with the police or the FBI?”
“Nope. I’m with Forensic Instincts. We’re a private company, specializing in solving cases like these. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Ashley’s tongue wet her lower lip. “I’ve already told the authorities everything I know.”
“I’m sure you have. But since my colleagues and I just arrived, I’d appreciate if you could fill me in, as well.” Casey didn’t have to turn around to know that the Willises had come up behind her and walked into the kitchen. Nor did she have to hear their footsteps. She could read it all over Ashley’s face, see it in her eyes as her gaze darted past Casey, filled with a mixture of uncertainty and an appeal for help.
“It’s all right, Ashley,” Hope assured her, although Casey was quite certain that Hope wasn’t the Willis she was appealing to. “Tell Ms. Woods whatever she needs to know.”
Casey turned to Hope. “May I speak to Ashley alone? Maybe in a den or comfortable setting? I’m sure she’s overwhelmed by the events of the day.”
“Of course. There’s a Florida room behind the kitchen.” Hope pointed. “Take as much time as you need.” She went to the fridge, pulled out two bottles of water, and handed one to Casey and one to Ashley. Edward stood to the side, his features and posture stiff.
“Thank you.” Casey followed Ashley to the Florida room. The girl was definitely on overload. Maybe it was just a melt-down from the day. Or maybe it was guilt.
Casey suspected it was both.
“I’d like to start out by going over some basics with you,” Casey began as soon as they were seated on the comfortable lounge chairs in the glass-enclosed Florida room. “I hope you don’t mind if I take notes.” She pulled out a pad and pen.
“I don’t mind.” Ashley spread her hands in confusion. “But wouldn’t it be easier for you to get a copy of my police interview?”
“I’ll do that, too. But my group tends to focus on the personal rather than the procedural. So there might be things you can tell me that will help us help the authorities.”
“Like what?”
Casey clicked on her ballpoint pen and leaned forward. “Like giving me a mental picture of Krissy. Not her appearance—I can study the cops’ photo for that. I can also read the victimology report her parents supplied. But often those aren’t as in-depth as I’d like. Not where it comes to Krissy’s hot buttons, her private likes and dislikes, her subtle behavioral traits. In many ways, you were her primary caretaker. The Willises have busy, high-powered careers—especially Mr. Willis. That doesn’t mean they’re not exceptional parents but you’ve spent the most time with Krissy, ever since she was born. There might be nuances you’re familiar with that are fresher in your mind than they are in theirs.”
A faint smile touched Ashley’s lips. “Krissy’s always been special. She’s happy, she’s bright and she’s so precocious that even I have trouble staying a step ahead of her.”
Ashley went on to describe a bouncy, enthusiastic child who loved books, drawing and Disney’s Club Penguin, had lots of playdates and friends—including a little boyfriend named Scotty—was a Daisy Girl Scout, wanted to play the tuba when she reached third grade and who wished her straight blond hair was red and thick like her friend Erin’s, whose hair reached all the way down her back without getting even a little thin and pointy.
“Krissy would love your hair,” Ashley told Casey in a tone so filled with fondness that it couldn’t be faked. “She’d ask you a million questions about who in your family is a redhead and how you managed to inherit it.” Another small smile. “She’d also ask if you had a boyfriend, and if he liked red hair. Then she’d tell you all about Scotty and how much longer she can hang upside down on the monkey bars than he can. She’s not what you’d call shy or quiet.”
Casey put down her pad. “She sounds like a great kid.”
“She is. Everyone likes her.”
“What about her parents? Does everyone like them, too?”
An uncomfortable flush stained Ashley’s neck. “That’s a hard question for me to answer. They’re wonderful to me, and they always have been. They have tons of friends. But they both also have these jobs that produce enemies. So I can’t say….”
“I didn’t expect you to know details about their work lives. I was referring to any major disputes in their personal lives—with others, with each other.”
“Not that I know of,” Ashley answered quickly, defensively. Casey could see the pulse at her neck start beating a little faster. Nerves? Maybe.
Casey continued to speak in a calm, reassuring tone. “Ashley, my questions aren’t meant to hurt the Willises. They seem like lovely people. I just want to find Krissy. I’m not interested in uncovering any family skeletons. Those are none of my business. But family arguments can lead to outside confidences. And outside confidences can lead to angry, bitter friends. You practically live here. So I’m asking you if there are any internal or external conflicts you know about.”
That calmed Ashley down. “No, none.”
“Okay.” Casey switched gears. “I understand you were here at the house all day today, and that there were no visitors,”
The swift change in subject caught Ashley by surprise. “That’s right.”
“Do you keep the burglar alarm on?”
“Not during the day. But I do keep the doors locked. I’d know if someone broke in. Plus, I would have heard them.”
“True,” Casey agreed. She pursed her lips. “What about the mail?”
“What about it?”
“I noticed the mailbox is at the foot of the driveway, which is winding and long. Did you bring in the mail today?”
“Yes,” Ashley admitted. “I already told that to the police. And, yes, the door was unlocked during that time. But I was only gone for two, maybe three, minutes. So if you’re wondering if someone could have slipped in and out of the house, I doubt it. Is it possible? I suppose so. I’d like to think I would have spotted them. Not to mention how unlikely it is that they’d have had time to go upstairs, take Oreo, and leave—not to mention knowing the layout of the house, where Krissy’s room is—”
“Unless someone drew them a diagram,” Casey interrupted quietly.
“Who would—” Ashley broke off, her eyes widening as she realized where Casey was going with this. “Do you mean me? You think I’m part of this kidnapping?”
“I don’t know what to think.” An offhand shrug. “I can see how much you care about Krissy, and how torn up you are by what’s happened. But you were the only person here all day. So you could be lying, or you could be involved on some level—maybe as an accomplice.”
The shock that registered on Ashley’s face was unmistakable. “An accomplice to who? My God, I’d never, ever hurt Krissy. I’d never take her from her family. I’d never put her through this.”
“After everything you’ve s
aid, I believe you.” Casey softened her expression—and her tone. “But I had to ask. Especially because of Frank.”
“Frank?” Again, Ashley was on the defensive. “What about him?”
“The Willises tell me that your boyfriend is kind of a drifter, and that he’s far from rolling in cash. And you’re in grad school. You have tuition and textbooks to pay for. The Willises are rich. It occurred to me that Frank might have pressured you into doing something you’d never ordinarily do, and convince you it was harmless. He’d make sure Krissy never knew who took her. You’d make sure he never hurt her. He’d just keep her long enough to get a huge payment from the Willises, then get her back to them. You’d both be rich. And no one would be any the wiser.”
“And Krissy would be scarred for life.” Ashley was trembling. “I’d never, ever be part of such a sick scheme. Not for a million dollars.”
“Would Frank?”
“Absolutely not. Frank’s not exactly a go-getter, but he’s not a thief. And he’d never kidnap a child.”
“It’s not a great theory,” Casey murmured. “Considering there’s been no ransom call—yet. But I had to ask. Not so much about you, but about Frank. That was him you were just arguing with on the phone, right?”
“Yes.”
“Was it about Krissy?”
“Yes…no…I mean, it was about Krissy, but not in the way you mean.” An uneasy pause. “He’s upset about how much time I’m spending here. I know that sounds horrible. But he’s a guy. He feels bad about Krissy, but he’s had enough. He’s been questioned by the police. He’s listened to my hysteria all afternoon. And now he’s dealing with my saying I’m not leaving this house until Krissy comes home safely. He’s not a bad guy. He’s just impatient and pissed off.”
“Sounds like most guys,” Casey said with a smile.
“I know.” Ashley was clearly relieved by Casey’s reaction.
“So you and Frank are tight?”
“Pretty much. We’ve been together for a year.” Ashley opened her bottle of water and took a gulp. “I don’t see us walking down the aisle or anything. But, like I said, he’s a good guy.”
“He just wishes you’d spend more time with him.”
“Yes.” Another swig of water. “And I wish he’d work a little harder. Want to be a little more. I doubt that’s in the cards.”
Casey gave an understanding nod. “Ambition’s one of those qualities you’re either born with or you’re not.”
“Exactly.” Ashley shifted on her chair. “If there’s nothing else, I’d really like to get back inside. Maybe the FBI’s heard something.”
The concern, the worry, the freaked-out look in Ashley’s eyes—all that was real.
“You really love Krissy a lot,” Casey said.
“You can’t imagine.” Ashley rolled the bottle of water between her palms. “Corny as it sounds, I feel like a second mother to her. Like you said, I’ve helped Judge Willis raise her since she was born, and because of the Willises’ long hours, I spend tons of time with her. And she really is the best kid in the world. Cheerful. Smart. She’s only in kindergarten, but she’s got a second grade reading level. She adds and subtracts faster than I do. And you should see what a whiz she is on the computer. She spends hours on Club Penguin. She chats on it. She colors pictures on it…she’s awesome. And her penguin avatar is super cool.”
“I’m sure it is.” Casey rose. “I think we’ve covered everything. Let’s go inside for an update. Oh, and Ashley…” she added as the younger woman stood up. “Krissy’s lucky to have you in her life. You’re a wonderful nanny.”
“Thank you.” Ashley gave a wan smile. “Now if I could only bring her home.”
The debriefing session was breaking up when Casey walked into the house. The first thing she did was to seek out Special Agent Peg Harrington.
“Hi, Peg.”
“Casey.” The trim, forty-two-year-old woman with the short dark hair and intense expression greeted her. “Don told me the Willises had hired you. I don’t need to tell you the rules.”
“No, you don’t. This is your case. My team and I are here to help my clients, and to support you in any way we can. All I need to know is how you’re laying out the chain of command.”
Peg cleared her throat. “Mr. Willis would prefer that the leadership came from the New York Field Office. So I’ll be heading things up, with Ken Barkley as my co-case agent. But the White Plains RA’s Task Force and the North Castle Police Department have good people on board, as well. And, of course, you saw the CARD team arrive. Plus, two agents from BAU-3 should be here in an hour,” she added, referring to the division of the Behavioral Analysis Unit that dealt with crimes against children. “We’re leaving no stone unturned.”
Casey nodded. “Anything from the crime scene yet?”
“No. The entire school staff is being interviewed, particularly those who witnessed the incident, and the car-pool mom who had a bird’s-eye view. So far, we’ve come up empty. The Willises are about to release a statement to the media, and issue a plea on TV. We’re setting up a tip line for anyone with a potential lead to call in—anyone who might have spotted a silver GMC Acadia with a child inside and the letters ‘X’ and ‘M’ in the license plate.”
“A suburban car in a suburban neighborhood,” Casey mused. “Doesn’t exactly raise any red flags.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right. Not only that, we’ve got two parents who have more than the average number of grudge-holders who’d love to strike them where it hurts. And what’s more powerful than taking their only child?”
Casey grimaced. “Not a thing.” She glanced around and watched the FBI team coordinating plans. “Look, Peg, we’re probably going to overlap in our suspect interviews. So if there’s anyone you want us to talk to, anyone on that list you think we’re well suited to gain insights from, just say the word. Like I said, the list of potential suspects is a mile long. And we all want the same thing—Krissy’s safe return. So use us as you need to.”
“I will.” Peg had seen Casey in action enough times to know that she didn’t give a damn who got credit for the win. On the flip side, she was equally unmotivated by the rules of bureaucracy. And that sometimes ruffled feathers. “Right now, we’re dividing up the list. Once we do, I won’t hesitate to take you up on your offer. Count on it.”
Once Peg had headed back into the tense huddle that was her team, Casey scanned the area for her own people. Marc was in the hallway, talking to a couple of C-20 agents. Ryan was nowhere to be found, but Casey suspected he was upstairs in Krissy’s room, probing things with the agent assigned to analyze Krissy’s computer for forensic evidence.
Hope and Edward were currently being prepped for the statement they’d be issuing within the hour on TV. Ashley was right beside them, listening intently. Her physical positioning and her body language were very telling. Casey made a mental note of both.
She then turned and made her way through the lower level of the house. She planned to wait until she could talk to Hope and Edward before she left. After that, when she and her team were armed with enough details to kick into high gear, she planned to drive over to Krissy’s school and start conducting some in-depth interviews.
Strolling from room to room, she didn’t expect to enter the eerily quiet playroom only to find Claire Hedgleigh sitting cross-legged on the carpet, rolling a crayon between her fingers while her other palm was pressed to a partially finished picture in an open coloring book.
Tears were trickling down her cheeks.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mommy?
Where are you? I’m scared. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how I got here.
The picture I finger-painted for you in school is drying. My book bag zipper got stuck. So the bell rang two times before I came out. I was surprised to hear you honk the horn. Surprised but happy. You left work early. You left that bench you always sit on just so we could play. You hadn’t even changed out of the black sui
t I helped you pick out this morning, so you could get to school before Olivia’s mommy took me home.
Now I remember that smelly scarf. I tried to tell you it was stinky, but you were talking. Not to me. To somebody else. The car kept moving. I woke up a little. You gave me a drink to make the yucky taste go away.
I feel funny. Am I sick? This is not my bed. And these aren’t my pajamas. I don’t like pajamas. I get hot and they stick to me. I like nightgowns. Where’s my nightgown?
I don’t like it here. Was that Daddy’s voice before? Is he still here? Are you?
What if you both left?
What if there’s no one here but me and Oreo?
I keep calling your name, but you don’t come. I called Ashley, too. She didn’t answer. I don’t want her anyway. I don’t want Daddy either. I want you.
Where are you, Mommy?
Please come.
Claire squeezed her eyes shut, reflexively recoiling as the little girl’s fear and confusion flowed through her.
The child was becoming more aware. The cobwebs were clearing from her head. And from Claire’s. Afraid. So afraid.
Krissy was crying. Big droplets on her eyelashes, cheeks and chin. She was wiping them away with the backs of her hands. The top of Oreo’s head was wet from the tears she couldn’t catch.
Panic. She was starting to panic. Yelling for her mommy. Sobbing…begging…
“Claire?”
At first the voice didn’t penetrate. Then Claire heard it, realized someone was calling her. She jerked back to her current surroundings, blinking as she glanced behind her and saw Casey.
“Are you okay?” Casey asked.
“No.” Slowly, Claire rose to her feet, unaware of the dampness on her face. “Krissy is terrified. She doesn’t know where she is. And she keeps calling for her mommy.”
Casey didn’t bat a lash. “You could sense what she was feeling. Was she reliving anything that happened? Anything you could pick up on?”
A slight nod. “Whoever took her was wearing a classic black suit similar to the ones her mother wears to work. Her hair was blond and parted on the side, just like Judge Willis’s.”
