The Girl Who Disappeared Twice (4 page)

“Yes.” Edward Willis moved to his wife’s side. “Thank you for coming, Agent Owens. I’m Edward Willis, Krissy’s father. In answer to your question, we filled out a background questionnaire. We gave the police and the FBI a preliminary list of neighbors, friends, relatives, Krissy’s friends, classmates and teachers—and we’re working on a list of all of Hope’s and my potential enemies. We also provided the photo and clothing you just mentioned, along with Krissy’s comb and toothbrush, and all the details of the abduction that we have—which aren’t many. What else can we do?”

“Make yourselves available for whatever’s necessary,” Don replied. “Media broadcasts. Following our lead when we ask you to prolong any phone calls we’re recording. Working with us to separate what’s real from what’s bogus as the public starts to communicate potential leads. Which they will. Some through our hotlines. Some through the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children. Some through tips to law enforcement. You’ll both be required to submit to polygraph tests. I assure you, it’s routine. Don’t be insulted—just do it. Eliminating suspects can be as important as pursuing them. And, most of all, have faith.”

“Pursuit,” Hope echoed, reminded for the umpteenth time of the potential flight risk involved. “What about roadblocks?”

“Taken care of county-wide and beyond,” Don assured her. “And highway patrols are combing the area. Trust me, Judge Willis. We all know what we’re doing.”

Hope nodded, lowering her eyes as tears slid down her cheeks.

It was clear from the expression on Don’s face that he empathized with Hope’s fears. It was also clear that he knew there was only one way to alleviate them.

“If you’ll excuse me, my team needs to be debriefed,” he informed her. “The quicker the better. That way we won’t lose a minute. What room can we use?”

“My home office,” Hope said at once. She pointed. “It’s down the hall, second door to your right. The other FBI agents are in there with the police. There’s a conference table and more than enough chairs.”

With a brief nod of thanks, Don and his CARD team disappeared in that direction.

Hope turned back to Casey.

“I picked up on a certain evasiveness in your voice,” Casey stated without preamble. “You’re hiding something. Before we go any further, I want to know what that something is.”

Inhaling sharply, Hope responded to the obvious first. “Do you honestly believe I could harm my child? Is that why you think I was being evasive?”

“Initially, it was one of the explanations I considered.” Casey continued to be frank. Simultaneously, she was watching an interesting scene taking place diagonally across from them, in the kitchen. But the answer she provided Hope was definite and direct. “But after seeing you in person, my suspicions are gone. However, that doesn’t answer my question. You
are
holding something back. What? And why?”

“Because it has no bearing on our daughter’s disappearance,” Edward Willis inserted abruptly.

With a quick glance over her shoulder, Casey signaled for Marc and Ryan to go do their thing. Once they’d complied, she leveled a direct stare at Edward.

“Tell me if I’m wrong, Mr. Willis, but I get the feeling you’re not much in favor of your wife’s decision to hire us.”

“You’re not wrong. I’m a firm believer in the legal system.”

“As an attorney, I’m sure you are.” Casey kept her tone respectful. But she didn’t like this man. He was judgmental and controlling. And it was no surprise that he believed in the legal system—
his
legal system. He specialized in putting violent criminals back on the street in exchange for high visibility, a rush of self-importance and a hefty fee.

Aloud, all she said was, “I understand where you’re coming from. Rest assured, my group won’t be abusing law enforcement or whatever decisions you make with them. We’re here to follow their lead—
if
our discussion with you now results in a mutual decision for us to work together.”

“If?”
Now Edward was taken aback. It was clear the man was used to getting his own way—even if, like this time, it meant Casey and her group vanishing into thin air.

His jaw tightened. “I don’t understand, Ms. Woods. My wife hired you.”

“True. But there’s a stipulation. I need my answer. What is it I’m not being told?”

Hope stared at the floor for a minute. The hard swallow that she gave, the way she steeled herself, and the way she shifted into autopilot told Casey that she’d relayed this story countless times, but that it never ceased to hurt.

“My sister Felicity was kidnapped thirty-two years ago,” she said quietly, her voice quavering from emotional strain. “We were six. She was sleeping next to me when it happened. I was chloroformed. So was she. Only it was Felicity the kidnapper chose to take. I’ve never understood why. We are—” a painful pause “—
were
identical twins. Very few people could tell us apart—unless they were familiar with our personalities. Which, to me, says the kidnapper was someone who knew us at least fairly well. And before you ask, Felicity’s body was never recovered. The case was labeled cold, and closed two years after the abduction. Now, history is repeating itself…with my baby.” Choking up, Hope pressed a fist to her mouth to stifle a sob.

“
Now
you see why I didn’t want you to pursue this line of questioning,” Edward snapped, once again putting an arm around his wife. The gesture seemed oddly stiff, even staged. “Dredging up a painful incident from Hope’s past is pointless.”

“I disagree.” Casey quickly processed the implications of what she was being told, even as her gaze flickered once again to the kitchen doorway. “It explains that this terrifying crime is even more terrifying for your wife than it might be for another woman. Two treasured loved ones kidnapped in a lifetime—the first unsolved, and occurring when your wife was an impressionable, young child? Scars like that don’t heal, Mr. Willis. Especially when the victim is an identical twin, who most people claim is like half of a whole. And now, a child—the very heart and soul of a mother. I can see why Judge Willis would be coming apart at the seams, reliving the past, and willing to go to any extreme to avoid a repeat of it.”

“So you understand.” Hope scrutinized Casey, her gaze filled with agonized pain.

“I do,” Casey said without hesitation. “I understand your fear. And I understand what you weren’t saying on the phone. Consider yourself our top-priority client.”

Hope literally sagged with relief. “Thank you.”

Casey wasted no time in getting down to business. “Your babysitter—it’s Ashley, right?” She gestured in the direction of the kitchen.

Startled by the abrupt change in subject, Hope looked up and followed Casey’s stare. Edward’s head snapped around, too.

“My babysitter?” Hope repeated. “Yes, it’s Ashley Lawrence. Although she’s not really a babysitter. She’s been Krissy’s nanny since the day Krissy came home from the hospital. So we don’t think of her as an employee. She’s family. And she adores Krissy.”

“All the more reason for my curiosity. If everything you’re saying is true, why has she spent the entire time since I walked in here on her cell phone, arguing with someone?”

“It’s probably her boyfriend.” Edward waved away the observation. “I’m sure he’s unhappy about her decision to stay here until we have news about Krissy.”

“I see.” Casey could sense Edward’s escalating tension. “So he’s a serious boyfriend. What’s his name?”

“Frank. Frank Barber.”

Casey jotted that down. “You mentioned that Krissy’s stuffed panda was stolen from the house sometime today. Did the police find evidence of a break-in?”

“None.”

“And no one had access to the house except Ashley, who claims that nobody came by here all day, and who’s now arguing with her boyfriend.”

“Oh, no.” Vehemently, Hope denied the notion that Ashley could be involved. “As I said, Ashley adores Krissy, and the feeling is mutual. The poor girl was crying hysterically when I got home. She’s in shock. She’s probably talking to her boyfriend for emotional support.”

“I don’t think so. She seems more agitated than distraught. Agitated and, if I’m reading her body language right, scared.” Casey pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Maybe she just realized she bit off more than she could chew, and that events are spiraling out of control.”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, Ms. Woods,” Hope insisted. “Ashley’s not capable of harming Krissy.”

“Maybe she doesn’t have to be—at least not directly.” Casey’s gaze shifted to the pile of sophisticated-looking textbooks sitting on the kitchen table. “It looks like Ashley’s in grad school. Unless you’re paying her a fortune, I assume she has outstanding student loans. What does Frank do for a living?” The ensuing silence gave her her answer. “Nothing lucrative, I take it.”

“He dabbles,” Hope replied, reluctance and wavering trust evident in her tone. “He’s a part-time bartender, and a part-time bouncer. Nothing concrete.”

“And nothing a huge windfall wouldn’t help in a big way.” A poignant pause. “Think about it—a vulnerable young woman in love with the wrong man. A young woman who has direct access to your home, your schedules and your daughter.”

For the first time, Casey’s gaze flickered coolly to Edward, who—as Casey had anticipated—had gone very, very still. “I’d say that’s a solid enough lead to check into, wouldn’t you, Counselor?”

His jaw was working, but his gaze pierced hers with laser intensity. “I’d say that’s your call, Ms. Woods.”

CHAPTER FOUR

It’s been a terrifying day. I know you’re scared. But you’re such a special child.

Unique. Precious.

The sleeping pill is working. Your eyes are shut. Your breathing is even. Your long blond hair is tousled, spread out on the pillow. I wish your lashes weren’t spiky and wet with the tears you cried for hours, or that your neck wasn’t damp with the perspiration caused by your struggles.

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 said, 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.”