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No answer.
“Who’s there?” she asked, this time louder.
Again, there was no response.
Sliding the chain lock into place, Casey opened the door a crack and peered outside. Hero shoved his nose through the small opening and sniffed, growling under his breath.
There was nobody on the doorstep.
Assuming the visitor had realized he or she was at the wrong house, Casey urged Hero inside and started to shut the door. As she did, she noticed an envelope tucked under the doorjamb.
She unchained the door and opened it, reaching down and picking up the envelope. It had her name carefully printed on it in ink.
Swiftly, she glanced up and down the street. Quiet and empty.
Hero was sniffing the doorstep. He looked ready to take off in hot pursuit.
Casey nipped that in the bud. She coaxed Hero back into the house. Then she locked the door and turned, leaning back against the wall and carefully opening the envelope. On second thought, she walked into the storage room and got a pair of latex gloves, which she wriggled her hands into. If this letter had anything to do with the Willis case, she didn’t want to smudge any fingerprints that might be on the page.
That done, she slid the sheet of paper out of the envelope and unfolded it.
There was one phrase scrawled there in ink: Look closer at family.
The note had to refer to her kidnapping investigation. But the wording was curious.
Family. Did the person mean the Vizzini family or the Willis family? And if he or she knew something, why weren’t they coming forward? Were they afraid for their own safety? Were Forensic Instincts and the FBI task force getting close enough to incite more violent acts? Was murdering Claudia Mitchell only the beginning?
And why had this informant come to Casey, rather than to law enforcement? It had to be fear. Or the hope that Forensic Instincts would be willing to take some illegal path to get at the answers. Any way you looked at it, the whole thing was sleazy. And that smacked of the mob.
She was still standing there, contemplating the message, when another knock on the door sounded.
“Who is it?” she demanded.
“Me.” It was Hutch’s voice.
Relieved, Casey opened the door. Hutch was standing there, looking tired and stressed-out, but no less sexy.
“Hi,” Casey greeted him. “I’m glad you’re here. Although I didn’t expect you for hours.”
He stepped inside and squatted down to scratch Hero’s ears. Clearly, the bloodhound was agitated by his arrival. “The team broke up early. Ken got a break on the Sicilian whereabouts of DeMassi’s son. He’s following up on it. Based on our assumption that the two abductions are related, the DeMassis are our strongest lead. Father and son both take orders from the Vizzini family. The time frame works—DeMassi could have kidnapped Felicity, and his son could have kidnapped Krissy. At least it’s a continuum that makes sense.”
“Plus, if Lou DeMassi is serving a lengthy sentence, it’s an added impetus for his son to want to avenge his father’s imprisonment.”
Hutch nodded. “Anyway, if the lead materializes into something concrete, or if anything else surfaces tonight, I’ll get a call from the task force. If not, you and I can have that talk.” He frowned as Hero continued to growl under his breath. It wasn’t characteristic for him to show such hostility toward Hutch.
“It’s okay, fellow,” Hutch soothed. “I’m the one who brought you to your new lady. Remember?”
Hero gazed past Hutch and out into the darkened street.
Raising his head, Hutch gave Casey a quizzical look. “What’s going on?” he asked, picking up on the tension that was rippling through her. Simultaneously, he spotted her latex gloves, and the letter she was holding.
“This is what’s going on.” Casey held out the letter for him to see. “I found it outside my door a little while ago.”
Hutch squinted and scanned the letter without touching it. “Do you have another pair of gloves?”
“Sure.” Casey went and got him a pair.
Once his gloves were on, Hutch took the page and studied it.
