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Regardless of what Patrick learned today, there was a connection between these two abductions. He didn’t know what, how or why. He only knew what his gut was telling him. And he’d learned to listen to his gut.
The sign for his exit appeared just ahead. He signaled, slowed down and turned off the highway, heading directly to his destination—and, hopefully, to some answers.
Claire jerked awake, her body drenched in sweat.
She’d been up all night. She’d gone over her notes all morning. She must have drifted off.
And dreamed.
Not about Krissy. About her stuffed panda, Oreo.
Dragging her fingers through the damp strands of her hair, Claire struggled for total recall. Krissy had been a mere wisp of presence in the dream. But Oreo—Oreo had been vivid. He’d been tangled in the bedcovers. Lonely. Crying. Sad for his best friend and her pain. Wishing his other best friend was here. Maybe together they could make Krissy smile. Maybe her eyes would light up like they always did when the three of them played—after it was bedtime and the lights were out and Krissy’s parents thought she was asleep.
For God’s sake, Claire thought, she was personifying a stuffed animal. Ryan would be laughing his ass off at this one.
How could a toy feel? Or weep? And why had Krissy been so faint in the dream? Almost nonexistent?
Mentally, Claire reached out, trying desperately to drag back the rapidly evaporating images. But they were gone.
They weren’t arbitrary. They meant something. She was sure of it.
Now she had to figure out what.
Hutch wasn’t happy.
Not just because the kidnapping investigation hadn’t turned up a damned thing so far. But because it looked as if this stuck-in-neutral situation wouldn’t be shifting into gear anytime soon. And soon was all they had.
The facts just weren’t coalescing into a viable profile. Not for a ransom kidnapping. Nothing to suggest a serial predator or an attempt at human trafficking. And, so far, no concrete evidence against any of the potential suspects who might be seeking revenge against the Willises.
To make matters worse, he had the distinct feeling that Casey was onto something—something other than her belief that Krissy’s kidnapping was connected to Felicity Akerman’s. The latter part she’d discussed with him. He thought it was a long shot. But he also knew that the Bureau didn’t have the resources to chase after it—not when there was a five-year-old girl out there enduring Lord knows what. So in the unlikely event that Casey’s long shot had merit, Hutch was comfortable leaving it in the hands of Forensic Instincts.
No, this was something more. Casey had another bee in her bonnet. He hadn’t gotten a thing out of her last night in private, nor this morning in public. No surprise there. As intimate as they were, as close as they’d become over the past year, he was a Fed and she was an independent consultant. Their goals might be the same, but their methods sure as hell weren’t.
Which meant nothing good. If Casey was onto something, but had no proof; if she thought her team could get what they needed through nonkosher means, she’d be off and running without a word.
And that worried him—a lot.
Casey wasn’t exactly off and running, but she was keeping a close eye on behavior that had first presented itself after her team meeting last night and before Hutch’s arrival at one o’clock in the morning.
As per usual, she’d checked in with Hope Willis before turning in. The phone call had been odd. Rather than pounding Casey with questions and clinging on to her every word, as Hope usually did, she’d asked very little of her. In fact, she’d been downright curt, her voice high-pitched and agitated, rather than pained and tear filled. She’d cut the conversation short, practically hanging up on Casey.
It was definitely uncharacteristic. Not unheard-of, given the circumstances. Mothers of kidnapping victims often ran through a gamut of emotions. Sometimes those phases of emotions included anger at those who were trying to help but, as yet, had come up empty. People like Casey, who was an easy target, were perfect for lashing out at. That wouldn’t have been off-putting, nor would it have offended Casey in the least.
But this was different. It wasn’t only what Hope had said, or even how she’d said it. It was what she hadn’t said, and the veiled quality of her tone.
Something was up. And Hope wasn’t ready to tell Casey what.
Had she found out about Edward and Ashley, or was it something to do with Krissy?
The question had plagued Casey all night.
She’d headed up to Armonk at a reasonable hour of the morning, right after verifying with Ryan that he’d successfully arranged for a morning fire drill at Joe’s work site. A diversion that had allowed him to place the tracking device inside Joe’s car and the chip in his cell phone—which Ryan’s spies had revealed Joe constantly misplaced and then scrambled to find. They could now monitor all of the guy’s movements.
Casey’s original plan had been to further interview Vera Akerman in order to flesh out more of the details that Patrick had run by her and the team last night—including all the people who’d been in the Akermans’ lives at the time that Felicity was abducted. It was the only way to get a full picture of the past.
Now, Casey had two reasons for her trip to Armonk.
The first reason fell through. Unfortunately, Vera was in no condition to talk. The stress of what was happening had taken its toll, and she was in her room, heavily medicated on doctor-prescribed sedatives, and under strict orders to rest. Hope was sitting with her, so she, too, was unavailable.
