As always, he had just one purpose in mind. Doing his job.
He pressed forward, his sharp blue eyes focused on the Willises. Right behind Hutch was his partner, SSA Grace Masters, who was every bit as formidable as her partner. Anyone fooled by her slender build or wavy, light brown hair was an ass. She had a steel-trap mind, guts and grit to spare and an unflappable personality. Hutch’s expressions were unreadable. Grace’s were well thought out and executed. The two pros had worked together for years, and now brainstormed with the ease of a long-term partnership, and the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel.
“Marc. Casey.” Hutch nodded at each of them, then shifted his attention to the Willises. “I’m Supervisory Special Agent Kyle Hutchinson and this is my partner, Supervisory Special Agent Grace Masters. We’re from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.” He and Grace shook the Willises’ hands.
“You’re here to profile the bastard who took my daughter,” Edward stated.
“We’re here to behaviorally analyze the crime to help the investigative team do their job,” Grace replied. “But, yes, we’ll zero in on motivation, personality types, number of offenders—anything that will lead us to your daughter’s kidnapper or kidnappers.”
“Let’s put off the details for now.” Hutch nipped Edward’s questions in the bud. “We’ve got to deal with the immediate. You’re going on TV in ten minutes. So let’s get you prepped and ready.”
CHAPTER SIX
Claudia Mitchell was ironing and watching a rerun of one of her favorite TV comedies when a special report interrupted. Breaking news. An Amber Alert had been issued. Krissy Willis, the five-year-old daughter of Family Court Judge Hope Willis and prominent defense attorney Edward Willis had been kidnapped.
The parents appeared on-screen, ready to speak.
Quickly, Claudia turned off her iron and set it down on the stand, hurrying over to turn up the volume. The Willises were issuing a statement, a plea, begging for their child’s safe return. Claudia stared at Judge Willis, the woman to whom she’d been court clerk for years. In all the time she’d known her, Claudia had never seen or heard her like this. No makeup. Panicked. A lost look in her eyes. Choked sobs in her voice. For a woman who was always put together and in complete control, it was a startling sight.
But why shouldn’t she look like death warmed over? Her little girl was missing. The most important person in her life had been taken away, and could be lost forever.
It was a terrible ordeal, one that elicited great sympathy. It made Claudia wonder if maybe Judge Willis would have gone easier on her, shown her more compassion, if she’d already endured this life-altering trauma before she’d fired Claudia. At that time, Claudia had felt just the way Judge Willis felt now. Terrified and helpless. Alone. Joe had just ended their engagement and walked out of her life. Claudia had believed the decision was permanent.
Joe was her whole world. So, yes, she’d gone to pieces. And Judge Willis had tolerated it for a month, maybe two. Then, she’d let Claudia go, saying her work was unsatisfactory and that her improper management of the docket was compromising courtroom procedure.
So Claudia found herself not only alone but unemployed. And, given the state she was in, she was in no condition to seek employment elsewhere. Her entire life was in shambles.
Now maybe Judge Willis would understand. But, actually, how could she? Krissy wasn’t her whole world. She was barely a part of it, given the number of hours the judge worked. The precious child was raised by a nanny, not a mother and father.
And Judge Willis would never be alone. She had a husband. Money. And now she was saying something about taking a leave of absence until her daughter was found and brought home safe and sound. A leave of absence? Her job would still be waiting for her. Her career would be intact. And she’d be held in high regard for her maternal commitment, rather than stared at like an emotional basket case.
Given the circumstances, Claudia felt a wave of guilt, which dissipated beneath the weight of an overwhelming sadness. She could still remember the first time Krissy had visited Judge Willis’s courtroom, her wide-eyed excitement when she’d sat in her mother’s chair and held her gavel. She was a wonderful child. None of what had happened was her fault. The poor little girl. She needed love, security. She didn’t need—
The front door swung open, and Joe walked into the house. Claudia rushed out of the kitchen to greet him. She still couldn’t believe her good fortune. He’d come back to her. The circumstances didn’t matter. He’d come back.
“Joe.” She put her hand on his arm, stopping him before he could pass by on his way to the basement.
He looked annoyed, glancing up from the video game he’d purchased and was now reading a description of. “What?”
“Judge Willis is on TV. She’s announcing that her daughter was kidnapped, and she’s pleading for her safe return.”
“I heard about it on the car radio,” he replied. “The little girl will be fine. And I wouldn’t get any pangs over the judge—not after what she’s done. I’m heading downstairs. You start dinner.”
“But, Joe …”
His gaze hardened. “I’m not in the mood, Claudia. Let it go. I don’t want to repeat myself. Do you understand?”
“I understand.” Quickly, she released his arm and backed off. “I’ll peel the potatoes.”
“Good.”
“When will you be coming up?”
“I’m not sure. I have a new game to try out.”
It was almost midnight.
The Forensic Instincts team gathered around the brownstone conference table, reviewing their notes, their accomplished tasks and their plans. The Willises’ TV statement had gone off without a hitch. The FBI task force was utilizing the lower-level media room of the Willis house as their command center. In addition, all the telephone recording devices and the toll-free tip line were in place, and concerned citizens—along with the usual cranksters—were starting to call in. The interviewing process had long since commenced and would be continuing round-the-clock.
Casey had spent another hour with the Willises—including a half hour alone with Hope—filling in some crucial blanks.
Armed with their individual information, it was time for the team to regroup.
Ryan began by describing what he’d learned in conjunction with the forensic computer specialist who was doing a cursory sweep of Krissy’s computer before removing it for a thorough evidential analysis. No real surprises. As expected, Krissy was a normal, if precocious, five-year-old whose only computer activities appeared to include games, crafts and chats via her avatar.
Whether or not one of her chat buddies was, in fact, a child predator laying the groundwork to get his hands on her remained to be seen. Once the computer reached the lab, an in-depth investigation would be conducted.
Marc reported in next, telling them that he’d used his FBI clout to gain info that would cross a chunk of suspects off the list—although he was still bugged by Sal and Rita Diaz, the Willises’s gardener and housekeeper, who happened to be husband and wife and who the BU had ruled out due to confirmed alibis. Alleged alibis or not, Marc still viewed them as a couple who’d maxed out on all their credit cards and who were in debt up to their eyeballs. A couple who constantly had their noses shoved in the Willises’ affluence, and who might very well feel they wanted a piece of it. A couple with a husband who had a history of bar fights, and a wife who was clearly cowed into submission.
It was a classic setup for a kidnapping—except for the fact that two separate employers had vouched for their whereabouts all afternoon, and that no ransom demands had come in. Still, Marc wasn’t ready to let it go.
Casey had talked to all the car-pool mothers, particularly to Liza Bock. And, while she hadn’t learned anything