The Girl Who Disappeared Twice, Page 32

  Felicity began twisting and tugging at her fingers. “What about Mama? She’s sick. I can’t desert her. She never deserted me.”

  “She’s getting care. That won’t change.” Hope restrained herself from screaming out that Linda Turner was not Felicity’s mother. That her real mother had died a thousand deaths since the kidnapping. And that both her parents would be weak with gratitude that their daughter had been restored to them, however damaged.

  “Can I still visit her?” Felicity asked. “She needs to see me. I’m all she has. For all the time she has left.”

  Hope glanced over at Peg.

  “We’ll talk about that later,” Peg replied.

  “Thank you.” Felicity bit her lip. “I know I’ve been bad. I didn’t mean to be. I’m usually a very good girl.”

  “Felicity.” Hope put a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “It’ll be all right.”

  “We have psychologists en route,” Peg informed Hope quietly. “One who specializes in victims of childhood abductions like the one Krissy’s been through. She’ll meet you at your house. And a specialist for Felicity, who’s definitely suffering from Stockholm syndrome. She’ll be waiting at the New York Field Office when we arrive.”

  “I appreciate that,” Hope said. “My parents will, too.”

  “Once Krissy understands that Felicity is her aunt, that she was also taken by someone when she was a child, and that she was in that scary situation for years and years, she’ll start to feel empathy rather than fear,” Casey added. “Children bounce back quickly when there’s been no physical or emotional abuse. It will be tough going for a while. But Krissy is one strong little girl. She’ll be fine. As for Felicity…” A slow inward breath. “She’s going to need a lot of help. She’s lived a lifetime like this, not a week. And, in addition to professional help, she’ll need her family, especially after Linda is gone.”

  “She’ll have us.” Hope’s face was damp with tears again as she turned back to her sister. “A lot of people love you,” she said fervently. “None of that has changed.”

  A vacant expression crossed Felicity’s face. “Love me?”

  Hope nodded. “Yes, Felicity, love you. You’re my sister. My twin. We’re connected. You wanted to love Krissy as your own, not to harm her. I know you’re confused. But your memories will come back. I’ll remind you of the good times. I promise.” She stepped away, as Peg indicated that it was time. “Go with the FBI,” Hope instructed her. “I’ll drive down to see you later.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “I promise.”

  Felicity nodded her acceptance, pausing for a second before relinquishing herself to the task force. “I really do love Krissy,” she whispered.

  “I know you do.”

  Torn between anguish and relief, Hope watched as Felicity was led off.

  For a long moment, she did nothing. Just composed herself, so she could give Krissy the love and strength she needed.

  Then she turned, beckoning to Krissy, who was playing a game of tug-of-war with Hero. Her T-shirt was definitely the loser.

  “Let’s go, sweetheart,” Hope called. “We have to call Daddy. And it’s time we went home.”

  Krissy raced over to her instantly and glued herself to her mother’s side. Hope clasped her hand securely in her own.

  Then they walked slowly back to the van, and to the life they would fight to recapture.

  EPILOGUE

  The Forensic Instincts team sat around the brownstone’s conference table, raising their glasses of champagne in triumph.

  “To a job well done,” Casey toasted. “And to an amazing team of pros—both our original threesome, and our two new additions—Claire and Hero.” She tipped her champagne flute in Claire’s direction. “Welcome. I’m so glad you decided to leave the world of the straight and narrow, and take a walk on the wild side.”

  “Me, too.” Claire’s eyes twinkled. “The straight and narrow’s not all it’s cracked up to be. A walk on the wild side will be very refreshing.”

  With a return grin, Casey lowered her gaze to the floor, where Hero was sprawled at her feet, taking a well-deserved, and much-needed, nap. “And you, my friend, are the man of the hour. A true hero.”

  He acknowledged her praise with a snore.

  “Hero’s got the right idea. Sleeping it off.” Ryan gave a huge yawn. “When was the last time any of us got a full night’s sleep?”

  “Uh-oh.” Claire rolled her eyes. “You’re tired. Does that mean you’re about to turn into Mr. Hyde again?”

  Ryan shot her a look. “Tread carefully, Claire-voyant. I still think Casey gives way too much credit to those visions of yours. Gecko had just as big a role in this investigation as you did—and he doesn’t talk back.”

  “He also doesn’t complain. Successful, talented and a clutch performer. Careful, Ryan. Gecko might just put you out of business.”

  “And so it begins,” Marc concluded, polishing off his champagne. “Fasten your seat belts, fellow voyagers. The bumpy ride has just shifted into hyperdrive. Be prepared for it to blast you right out of your seats.”

  “And to think I’m going to miss the opening fireworks.” Hutch appeared in the doorway, his travel bag slung over his shoulder. He’d been upstairs in Casey’s apartment, collecting the handful of personal items he’d left in her bedroom. “I’ll have to get back here for a visit ASAP. Quantico’s not nearly as exciting as this.”

  Marc’s eyebrows drew together quizzically. “Are you heading out?”

  “Yup. Grace is driving down to pick me up. Then, it’s a long trip home. I’ve got to be at my desk at seven tomorrow morning.”

  “Sounds like hell. Hey, did you and Casey make up?” Ryan asked bluntly, looking from Casey to Hutch. “Or are you two still killing each other?”

  Casey and Hutch exchanged a quick, intimate glance. The hour they’d spent together before everyone piled into the brownstone had been anything but combative. They’d ironed out their residual anger in about five minutes. Then they’d spent the rest of the time in bed, securing their pact.

  “Looks like they made up,” Claire determined.

  Ryan eyed her speculatively. “Another psychic insight?”

  “Nope. A simple observation.”

  “And an accurate one,” Hutch confirmed. “All is well. In fact, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to borrow your boss to say goodbye.”

  “I’m not hanging around here for another hour,” Ryan warned them. He was starting to get cranky. “So make it quick, and keep it clean.”

  “Yes, sir.” Casey snapped off a salute as she rose. “I’ll walk you downstairs,” she told Hutch.

  The two of them descended to the first floor, where Hutch dropped his bag onto the floor and hauled Casey into his arms.

  “You’re one sexy pain in the ass,” he murmured, kissing her.

  “Right back at you.” She smiled against his mouth. “Any free time coming up?”

  “Not sure.” He kissed her again. “How about you?”

  “Not sure.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Maybe I can sneak away for a weekend in between cases.”

  “Yeah, when will that be?”

  “When I show up on your doorstep.” She deepened their kiss. “I like to keep you on your toes.”

  “No worries on that score.”

  A horn sounded from outside.

  “That must be Grace,” Hutch said. “And the parking here sucks. So I’d better get going.” He tunneled his fingers through Casey’s hair, gave her one more lingering kiss, then released her. “Stay out of trouble.”

  “I’ll do my best. You do the same.”

  “You got it.”

  Casey was halfway up the stairs when the doorbell rang.

  Puzzled, she retraced her path and peeked through the peephole. Not particularly surprised, she opened the door. “Hello, Patrick.”

  “Hey.” He strode past her, pausing at the foot of the steps. “I assume your team is upsta
irs celebrating.”

  She nodded. “Second-floor conference room. You’re welcome to join us.”

  “I plan to.” He headed upstairs, Casey following right behind.

  “We have a new guest,” she announced, gesturing for Patrick to join the group. “Help yourself to a glass of champagne,” she invited.

  “Sounds good.” Lynch walked over to the table, nodding his hellos and taking the champagne flute Marc proffered.

  Hero picked his head up and brayed.

  “Easy, boy. I’m not an intruder,” Patrick assured him. “Just a friend and fellow law enforcement officer.”

  With a thorough sniff—and an equally thorough slobber—of Patrick’s shoes, Hero seemed to be convinced. He resettled himself, closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

  “Have a seat.” Casey indicated one of the empty chairs around the table.

  Patrick lowered himself into the chair, then raised his glass. “To all of you. For solving two cases—including one that’s been haunting me for over three decades. I can’t even imagine how many laws you broke, and I don’t want to know. All I care about is that a little girl is home with her parents tonight. And a woman who’s more a victim than an offender is about to get the help she needs. That’s the best outcome we could hope for under the circumstances.”

  “Were you at the Willises’ till now?” Marc asked. The Forensic Instincts team had stayed only long enough to witness the touching family reunion—one that gave them the rare chance to see Edward Willis break down and weep, and to see Krissy meet her grandfather. Then they’d wrapped things up with the task force, and said their goodbyes. Hope Willis had followed them outside, insistent on giving them an overly generous check right there on the spot. They’d graciously accepted, asked to be kept posted on how Krissy was doing and left.

  “Yeah, I came here straight from Armonk,” Patrick confirmed. “Krissy still hasn’t said very much. But that’s to be expected. She was with the FBI child psychologist when I left.”

  “Any news on the charges against Felicity and Linda?”

  “Not yet.” Patrick frowned. “Both situations are difficult. Both have extenuating circumstances. Neither woman is fit to stand trial. Obviously, Linda is by far the guiltier of the two, since she set this whole nightmare in motion. I’m sure she’ll be transferred to a high security health facility, where she’ll be treated for Alzheimer’s. And Felicity will need intensive therapy, and a lot of emotional support. I hope the sentence imposed on her will reflect her lifelong trauma.”

  “I’m sure it will,” Casey replied. “Especially given Hope’s compassionate heart. She’ll intervene on her sister’s behalf. She’s adamant that a ruined life is more than enough price for Felicity to pay.”

  A nod. “Oh, one interesting twist I got from Peg before she left with Felicity. Apparently the mob was so worried that we’d dig up something unrelated but incriminating on them, that they got one of the Sunny Gardens nurses to do some preemptive damage control.”

  “Even though they had nothing to do with the two kidnappings?” Ryan looked amused. “Glad to make a mobster squirm, but what happened with this nurse?”

  “Denise Amato,” Patrick supplied. “Seems she’s sleeping with Bill Parsons, Tony Bennato’s construction foreman. Peg got her to talk. She didn’t know a lot. Only that Bennato got inside info that warranted his ordering Parsons to try and find a way to point the Feds, the cops—” a pointed look in Marc’s direction “—and I quote, ‘and that nutcase Navy SEAL’ in a different direction. So, on Parsons’s instructions, Amato wheeled Linda Turner down to the lake, where Linda promptly went to pieces, screaming and crying and toppling her wheelchair to get away.”

  “I guess Bennato knew about Claudia Mitchell’s confrontation with Lorna-slash-Linda, and dug up dirt on Linda’s past,” Marc said, trying to keep his lips from quirking.

  “Yeah, and I guess you paid Parsons a less than cordial surprise visit on your own.”

  “Do you want me to answer that?”

  “Nope.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  Patrick cleared his throat. “That brings me to the other reason I’m here.”

  “Gee,” Ryan said, “and here I thought you just came by to tell us how awesome we are.”

  “Nope. Like I said, you’re great at what you do. No arguments there. Your methods, however, leave a hell of a lot to be desired. You need supervision and restraint. I’ve decided to offer you both.”

  “Pardon me?” That brought Casey’s head up.

  “You need me. And I’m bored by the freelance assignments that come my way. So I’ve decided to come on board—and keep you out of jail.”

  “You want to join Forensic Instincts?” Casey had to make sure she was hearing right.

  “Surprised?”

  “Thrilled.” Casey shot Patrick a huge grin. “You’d be the perfect counterweight to a bunch of out-of-control mavericks.” She glanced around the room. “I know we ordinarily make these decisions in private,” she told her team. “But since this interview—and job acceptance—were just conducted in public, and since we know that Patrick has no ego problem, how do you feel about adding another new member to the team?”

  “Sweet,” Ryan replied at once. “Renegade Marc and by-the-book Patrick, battling it out. I smell a comic book series. The possibilities are endless.”

  “And balanced,” Marc added, ignoring Ryan’s taunt. “I think it’s a great idea. A little more structure and discipline. I can handle the infighting if you can, Patrick.”

  “Bring it on,” Patrick replied.

  “And with Claire-voyant on board, we can use another person who has his feet on the ground.” Ryan slanted a look in Claire’s direction. “What do you think?”

  “I think Patrick’s experience and maturity—” Claire underscored the last word “—will add a lot to the mix. I’m a newbie myself, but if my vote counts, I say, yes, absolutely.”

  “And the pièce de résistance—Hero likes you,” Casey said with a grin. “Or, at the very least, he likes your shoes. He doesn’t slobber on just anyone. If that’s not a yes, I don’t know what is.” She extended her hand to Patrick. “Welcome to the team, former Special Agent Lynch. We’re honored to have you.”

  “You’ll be eating those words a lot,” Patrick replied. But he was grinning, too, as he shook Casey’s hand. “But I look forward to working with you all.”

  Casey lifted her glass again. “To the new and improved Forensic Instincts. Onward and upward, and may we not kill one another in the process.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  With deepest gratitude to all those amazing professionals who so graciously gave of their time and helped provide me with the authenticity I needed to write The Girl Who Disappeared Twice. The list is long, and in no specific order. I thank each and every one of you.

  Angela Bell, Public Affairs Specialist, FBI Office of Public Affairs (Angela, you’re the exception to my rule—you’re always first, because you’re the most extraordinary central contact I could ever hope for!)

  Arthur Cummings II, Former Executive Assistant Director, FBI National Security Branch

  SSA James McNamara, FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit 2

  SA Konrad Motyka, FBI New York

  SA James Margolin, FBI Office of Public Affairs, New York Field Office

  SSA Michael Harkins, Coordinating Supervisor, Violent Crime/Gangs Branch, FBI New York Field Office

  SSRA Michael Ferrandino, FBI Long Island Resident Agency

  SSA Leonard Johns, Formerly of the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit 3

  SSA Thomas Lintner, Chief FBI Laboratory’s Evidence Response Team Unit

  SSA Rex Stockham, Program Manager for FBI Laboratory’s Forensic Canine Program

  SSRA Edward McCabe, FBI White Plains Resident Agency

  SA Tonya DeSa, FBI Newark Division National Academy Coordinator, NCAVC Coordinator, Assistant Training Coordinator

  SA Laura Robinson, Senior Team Leade
r, Evidence Response Team, FBI Newark Field Office

  SA Maria Johnson, NCAVC Coordinator, FBI New York Field Office

  Retired SA Richard DeFilippo, Violent Crimes Task Force, FBI New York Field Office

  Robert D’Angelo, Chief of Police, North Castle, New York

  Retired FBI SA Richard Mika

  SA Ann Todd, FBI Office of Public Affairs

  Retired Detective Mike Oliver, NYPD

  Jennifer Michelson, New Jersey Search and Rescue Dog Task Force

  Hillel Ben-Asher, M.D.

  In addition, I want to thank Adam Wilson, for being a true editorial partner, and Andrea Cirillo and Christina Hogrebe, for being agents and advocates extraordinaire.

  And last, but always first, I want to thank my family, who’s there from start to finish…and then some. I love and appreciate you more than you’ll ever know.

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-0526-0

  THE GIRL WHO DISAPPEARED TWICE

  Copyright © 2011 by Rainbow Connection Enterprises, Inc.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Mira Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.