I’m sure I’ll have colorful stories waiting for me when I get back.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will.” Claire glanced over at the school building. “Did you interview teachers?”
“Teachers, custodial staff, mostly the ones who were on the scene when Krissy was taken,” Casey replied. “I didn’t learn anything new. And I certainly didn’t get the sense that any of them was involved.”
“Nor did I.” Claire frowned, staring at the concrete spot where Krissy had disappeared. “The only vibes I’m getting are right here. And they leave me cold. Cold and dark.”
Before Casey could respond, her cell phone rang. She scanned the number on her caller ID. “It’s Hope Willis,” she announced as she punched on the phone. “Yes, Hope.” A pause. “I’m on my way.” She turned to Claire. “A lead was called in on the toll-free tip line regarding the car that kidnapped Krissy. The tip was legit. The NYPD found the car. I’m heading over to the Willises’.”
“I’ll follow you.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The car used to kidnap Krissy had been dumped in a South Bronx lot, and stripped clean during its hours sitting on garbage-strewn asphalt. The task force had traced the vehicle to a car rental company at Kennedy airport. The GMC Acadia had been rented using a fake ID and credit card. The signature on the rental agreement was no more than chicken scratch. And, given the high level of activity at the company’s location, most of the employees had no memory of the customer who’d rented that specific car a full day ago. One employee vaguely remembered a woman wearing a hat and sunglasses who might be the person the cops were looking for. Overall, the only thing the employees knew was that the Acadia had yet to be returned and was overdue.
At this point, it was never going back. It was disemboweled-
An immediate evidentiary sweep by ERT showed nothing. Other than some smudges, there were no discernible fingerprints on the vehicle. The offender had obviously wiped them clean before abandoning it. And the car had been ransacked by so many people that there was no way a bloodhound could differentiate the specific scent of the kidnapper. Not to mention there was very little left to smell. The Acadia was as picked clean as a Thanksgiving turkey.
So it was back to square one. Sort of.
“The kidnapper had to leave Krissy somewhere before dumping the car. She wouldn’t risk taking her along,” Casey said to Peg.
“Nope.” Peg shook her head. “The odometer indicates she went straight to the dumping site from Krissy’s school. My guess? She met the main offender there, got rid of the car and took off with him-and Krissy.”
“These kidnappers aren’t stupid,” Casey replied, blowing out a breath. “They knew how to plan. And they know how to elude us.”
“The BAU is fine-tuning their profile, and filling in the task force now. I just came from there. Feel free to go to the command center and listen, since the Willises are going to fill you in anyway. You might as well have your facts straight when you narrow down your list of suspects.” Peg glanced over at Claire. “The North Castle police have invited you to attend, as well.”
“Thank you.”
Grace and Hutch were explaining the profile, as well as the inconsistencies of the offender or offenders who’d taken Krissy, when Casey and Claire walked in.
“Unless this is the first in an upcoming pattern of incidents, there’s no evidence that we’re dealing with a serial offender,” Grace was saying. “As a result we have to treat this as an isolated event. It still could be a kidnapping for ransom, although that’s looking less likely with no contact from the kidnapper. But that motive can’t be ruled out, especially when the parents are notably affluent.”
“Are we dealing with one offender or two?” asked one of the North Castle police detectives.
“Our guess is two, simply because of the complex way the crime was carried out and the stats. If our unsub is a child predator, he’s most likely a white male in his thirties, who works with or hangs around children, maybe through coaching or volunteer work. He’d be either unattached or in a nonsexual relationship, and he’d enjoy childlike activities like building model airplanes or playing computer games. He’d probably have endured childhood abuse, and be harboring latent anger, which would flare up if anyone threatened to stand between himself and his victim. The person who kidnapped Krissy Willis was female. Could she be acting alone? Possibly. There are a small percentage of child predators who are female.”
“So you’re definitely thinking this is a sexual offense.”
“That’s certainly right up there on the list,” Hutch replied. “But there are variables that just don’t fit-not the offender or the victim. Normally, a child predator has a much less complicated M.O. This one went to a hell of a lot of trouble to snatch one specific child. The typical child predator operates in a simpler and more invisible way. He seeks out a withdrawn, vulnerable child. Krissy is neither of those, nor is she an easy target. Her parents are both very high-profile people, and they’re both very present in their daughter’s life.”
“Which might give a certain type of offender a sense of power,” Casey commented from the rear of the room.
Hutch angled his head in her direction and nodded. “It might. That’s another gray area, both in terms of profile and motive. Whoever’s running the show here is either unbothered by, or turned on by formulating a plan that’s intricate and in our faces. He or she is smart. This crime was well planned and well researched. There wasn’t an iota of impulsiveness about it. And it’s personal. Krissy Willis is personal. Whoever took her wanted her, and her specifically. Which smacks of either a need for power or revenge.”
“If that’s true, this won’t end as a quiet closed case,” Casey responded. “The offender will want notoriety, or recognition. Krissy will turn up.”
“In one form or another, yes.” Hutch’s tone was grim. “Our job is to find her before she ‘turns up,’ and to find her alive.”
Marc sat calmly in the waiting room of Dr. Brian A. Pierson, flipping through the pages of a medical magazine. The renowned neurologist’s office, which until several months ago had been crammed with patients, was relatively quiet. And getting a new patient appointment, which would normally mean a lengthy waiting period, had been a snap. Not a surprise, given that the doctor’s name and photo had been splashed all over newspapers since he’d been charged with murdering his wife in cold blood. The evidence against him was staggering. There wasn’t a doubt in Marc’s mind that the SOB was guilty. And not just of murder. Through his discreet but well-informed contacts, Marc had uncovered all kinds of ugly little secrets about the renowned neurologist. Pierson should be rotting in prison, not making hundreds of dollars an hour practicing medicine.
But Edward Willis had defended him. And that was his ticket to freedom.
“Mr. Deveraux? Dr. Pierson will see you now,” the receptionist informed him.
“Thank you.” Marc followed her down the hall, where she motioned him into an inner sanctum the size of two adjoining lecture halls at the FBI Academy in Quantico. She left him there, shutting the door behind her.
The very recognizable Dr. Pierson rose from behind his heavy mahogany desk. “Mr. Deveraux,” he said, greeting Marc with a handshake. “Please, take a seat.” He gestured at a leather chair on the opposite side of the desk, simultaneously glancing down at the new patient forms Marc had filled out.
“So you’re suffering from severe headaches, and your primary care physician suggested they could be migraines.” Pierson’s eyebrows drew together. “You didn’t list the referring doctor.”
“Nope. That’s because there is none. And my headaches are usually from lack of food or sleep.”
Every muscle in Pierson’s body went rigid. “Are you a reporter? Because I’ll have you arrested on charges of-”
“I’m not a reporter,” Marc interrupted. “I’m a member of Forensic Instincts, a private investigative company.”
“I was acquitted.” Pierson rose. “Please leave.”
Marc made no move to stand. “I’m not here to discuss your murder case. I’m here to discuss the kidnapping of
