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“I’d like to visit Daniel Olson, if you don’t mind, Captain. He’s been totally invested in finding his daughter’s body. Now he’s dealing with the finality of her death and the discovery of her killer. I know your precinct has reached out to him. But I feel that FI should do the same.”
“By all means,” Sharp agreed at once. “Forensic Instincts was instrumental in solving this case. I feel terribly sorry for Daniel. He’s weak and frail, and he doesn’t have much time left. He got what he wanted, but at what cost? I’m sure a condolence visit would be very much appreciated.”
“We’ll make that happen today.” Claire’s eyes were damp, her sensitive heart breaking for the dying man who was dealing with every parent’s worst nightmare.
“I’ll be in touch as soon as I have information and/or things in place,” Sharp said.
Casey took charge the minute the phone call was disconnected.
“We’ve got two separate cases, linked by one killer, as far as I’m concerned,” she told her team. “With regard to Fisher himself, we’re going to learn every shred of information there is to learn about the bastard. That will help us figure out who’s following in his footsteps. In the meantime, I want to contact the D.A.’s office. If it turns out that Fisher killed Holly—and you know he did—we’ll have two old murders we can solidly link to him. I want him to be tried for them, for their families’ sakes, and to ensure that Fisher gets back-to-back sentences that will keep him from ever seeing the light of day.”
“Agreed.” Marc turned to Ryan. “With regard to the current case, we still have video footage to review from Kendra’s vigil. Maybe we can spot someone suspicious on the scene. Hutch can use his trained eye to dissect it with us. By that time, we’ll have word from the Hoboken P.D. on whether or not the clump of hair under Maura’s ribbon belonged to Kendra.”
His brows drew together thoughtfully. “We need to reexamine the list of potential victims. Kendra was found in Dumbo. That’s near Ryan’s place. Maura’s body was in Hoboken. That’s Patrick neck of the woods. If our theory is right, that leaves the East Village, where Claire lives, and Bensonhurst, where I live. We have to cross-match any of the women on Casey’s list who has a residential or working tie to either of these two locations.”
“What about Tribeca?” Ryan asked.
“That’s iffy,” Hutch interjected. “When he gets that close, he might want to perform his big finale and go after Casey. But it can’t hurt to double-check the names on the list and see if any of them has ties to Tribeca.”
“I’ll pull the Glen Fisher file and start researching,” Patrick said. He gave Casey a questioning look. “I hadn’t come on board FI yet when you worked that case. I assume it was in conjunction with the Twelfth Precinct?” He referred to the area where Tompkins Square Park was located.
Casey nodded.
“Fine. I’ll swing by there and see what they’ll share with me.”
Claire rose. “Casey, do you want to come with me to see Daniel Olson?”
“Yes.” Casey got to her feet. “I also have some arrangements I need to make.”
Hutch recognized the expression on her face. And he didn’t like it. “What arrangements?”
“I plan to get permission to visit Auburn.”
“You’re visiting Glen Fisher?” Hutch looked more pissed than he did surprised.
“Damn straight.” Casey raised her chin. “Fisher wants me up close and personal? Let’s give him exactly what he wants.”
Chapter Twelve
Later that day, Casey and Claire—with one of Patrick’s bodyguards glued to their side—visited Daniel Olson to pay their respects. There was little they could offer him except their condolences and offers to help with Jan’s funeral arrangements. Mr. Olson quietly told them he had everything taken care of, and thanked them for getting to the truth, as well as for recovering his daughter’s body. He begged them to make sure that the monster who’d done this to his child was locked up forever, so he could never hurt another man’s daughter.
That plea doubled Casey’s determination to ensure that Glen Fisher rotted in prison for the rest of his days. She drove away from the Olson house, watching Jan’s father in her rearview mirror. He stood in the doorway, frail, broken, himself on the verge of death. Casey had to look away, the emotion was so great. But so was the resolve. That miserable son of a bitch was going to pay for the rest of his life. She would see to it herself.
She’d made the necessary phone calls to set things in motion. Now she just had to wait for the official word that she was on the visitors’ list. As soon as that happened, she’d jump in the car and make the five-hour drive to upstate New York, where Auburn Correctional Facility was located.
There was plenty of time to ponder how she was going to handle Fisher as she left Brooklyn now and headed back to Tribeca. The van was silent, with Claire gazing out the window with tears in her eyes, and their bodyguard texting Patrick with an update on their whereabouts. There was nothing to say, anyway, no peace in this kind of closure.
But there was a world of planning to do. And Casey used that quiet time to do it.
Her cell phone rang just as she turned onto their street.
She glanced at the dashboard, recognizing the number in the display. “Hi, Ryan.”
“Hey. You guys okay?”
“It was tough. But we expected that. Any news on your end?”
“Yeah. The cops got their search warrant for Glen Fisher’s apartment. They’ll meet us there at seven tonight. They’re anticipating that his wife, Suzanne, will be home from work by then.”
