think she chloroformed her, and later drugged her again. And Krissy heard her talking. I didn’t sense anyone else in the car, so I’m guessing she was on the phone.”
“Probably talking to whoever she’s working with—or for.” Casey pushed on. “What else did you sense? Where’s Krissy now? Could you see her surroundings? Who was with her? Anything at all that could help us find her? “
This time Claire hesitated. “Casey, I really should talk to the police first.”
“You probably should. But it’s freshest in your mind now. The cops are in meetings, getting their assignments so they can head out and start interviewing. I’m here. I’ll memorize everything you say. I can be there when you talk to the task force, so that just in case a detail starts to fade, we’ll ensure you give them the clearest and most comprehensive picture possible.” A pause. “Claire, you’ve worked with me before. All I want is for that little girl to be found before it’s too late. So tell me what you remember.”
“She wants her nightgown,” Claire replied quietly. “She doesn’t like pajamas, but she’s wearing flannel ones. She’s in a downstairs bedroom, behind a door with a lock on the outside and a separate one on the inside for when the kidnapper is with her. No one’s there now. She heard voices before, but now it’s silent, and she’s frantic for her mommy.”
“The room—did you see it?”
“Flashes of it, yes. It’s bare. Quiet. There’s a canopied bed with a white bedspread that has little gold crowns on it and pink ruffles all around the sides. There’s enough light in the room, but it’s from a lamp on the nightstand. No sunlight. And no window. Just four pale pink walls and a bare carnation-pink carpet. Like an institutional room, but with a few personal touches.”
“No surprise,” Casey responded. “The main offender is most likely a man. He’ll want to put Krissy in an environment where she feels totally vulnerable, but surrounded by enough personal touches to lower her defenses and convince her that he cares. That’ll provide him with the greatest sense of control. As for the little-girl decor, I’m sure that’s courtesy of his female accomplice. She’ll do it for him, but I’m hoping that a small part of her will also do it for Krissy. That would mean the woman feels a shred of pity or compassion—up to the point where she’d be crossing the line and jeopardizing her own safety. If that’s true, we can use her emotions to our advantage.”
Claire nodded, walking over and picking up the coloring book and crayons. “I’m going to find the North Castle detectives.”
“Assuming they’re still here,” Casey reminded her. “It’s possible that everyone’s out doing their job and that the only law enforcement here are whoever Peg assigned to the Willises and the phones.”
“Then I’ll talk to them.”
“Do you want me to be there?”
“No.” A raw pause. “In this case, my recall is one hundred percent—unfortunately.”
“I can imagine.” Casey didn’t envy Claire’s gift. It had to be enormously painful at times like this. “Whoever you talk to, just don’t do it in front of the Willises. They’re about to give a media statement, and the BAU isn’t here yet to coach them. The last thing they need is to hear that Krissy is terrified and locked up—for God knows what purpose. We can talk to them later. We’ll make sure to emphasize the fact that Krissy is alive.”
Halfway to the door, Claire paused, looking at Casey as if she were truly seeing her for the first time. “You’re very insightful.”
“So’s my whole team,” Casey replied. “It’s something that you and I should discuss—when the time is right.”
Claire’s eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. “Okay. We will.”
Just after Claire left the room, Casey’s BlackBerry rang. She glanced down at the caller ID. No surprise at what she saw.
She punched on the phone. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself,” said a deep, masculine voice. “I wanted you to know that I’m in your neck of the woods. I’ve got a case in Westchester County. I’m not sure when I can break away, but when I do, can we get together? Maybe later tonight?”
“Oh, a lot sooner than that,” Casey assured him. “I’m at the Willises’ house right now. I assume that’s where you’re headed?”
A sharp intake of breath. “They hired you already?”
“What can I say? They’ve got good taste. Just like you.” Casey’s light banter vanished. “I’m glad you’re coming. We’ve got to find Krissy Willis before she’s killed—or worse. Hurry.”
* * *
Casey got the Willises alone before the BAU-3 team arrived to prep them.
“After your TV statement, my team and I are going over to Krissy’s school,” Casey told them. “We’ll be interviewing a few specific staff members.”
“Why just a few?” Hope interrupted. She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Please, Ms. Woods, don’t skim the surface just because the authorities are pressuring you. I hired you because of your creativity, your track record and your freedom to push the boundaries. Edward and I are both lawyers. We know the drill. Law enforcement is bound by rules that you can circumvent. So circumvent them. Do whatever you have to. Do it thoroughly. And do it fast.”
“I intend to.” Casey spoke as quietly as her client. “Don’t confuse specificity with reticence. If I think someone on your list is a person of interest, I’ll delve into their background, even if our investigation overlaps with the FBI’s. But if my instincts tell me they’re a dead end, it would be a waste of time to pursue them when I could be devoting my attention to more likely suspects, or people who could lead me in the right direction. I especially want to talk to Liza Bock, the car-pool mom who saw Krissy jump into the kidnapper’s car. I also want to talk to her daughter, Olivia, and all Krissy’s other friends. Kids very often know more than they think they do. The FBI task force will cover the gamut.” Particularly the sex offenders, she thought silently and grimly. “Let us cover the probable.”
Hope nodded. “All right.” She handed Casey a stack of papers, including everything she’d given to Peg Harrington: a full list of personal names and each individual’s relationship to Krissy, and pages and pages of professional names that Hope and Edward had come up with as potential enemies, resentful plaintiffs and/or defendants, parents who’d lost custody of their children, and all the other people who might hold a grudge against them.
“I’ll review all this and get started,” Casey said. She thumbed through the pages. “First come the angry parents. An eye for an eye would be strong motivation. Ferreting through that part of the list and interviewing the right candidates will be my job. I’ll have Ryan concentrate on trimming down the list to the most logical thinkers among those. Whoever orchestrated this was sharp, focused and intelligent. And Marc will zero in on those who have the greatest access to you, your home and your day-to-day lives, plus anyone with a criminal record. You have no idea how fast and thorough we are. Have faith.”
“I’m trying.” Tears slid down Hope’s cheeks. “But she’s my baby.”
“I know,” Casey replied gently. “And, on all fronts, you’ve got the best of the best working for her safe return.”
“Hey.” Marc came up behind Casey. “Speaking of which, the BAU’s here. They sent Hutch.”
Casey half-turned. “Yes, I know. He called a little while ago.” She watched as the familiar, commanding presence of SSA Kyle Hutchinson filled the room. For a man who epitomized the word reserved, Hutch managed to take charge without even trying. There was a natural, compelling quality about him that screamed leadership. From the power of his build, the innate confidence he exuded, even the jagged scar across his left temple—a souvenir of his days as a Washington, D.C., police