“Let me tell you a few things about myself and my company, Mr. Willis. We’re everything you just described and more. Someday, we’re going to be known as the foremost profilers in the Tri-state Area, with the most out-of-the- box, creative approaches to solving crimes-successfully. None of those approaches is going to include gossiping or inciting family breakups. So while I appreciate your offer, I’m not too crazy about its basis. So let me put your mind at ease. Frankly, I don’t care if you sleep with Ashley Lawrence and half of Manhattan. It has no bearing on Krissy’s kidnapping. I’m convinced that neither you nor Ashley had anything to do with her abduction. And that’s all that interests me.”
Casey slid the check back across the desk. “Consequently, there’s no need to buy me off. Like you said, your wife is paying us twice our normal rates. That’s more than enough. On the other hand, don’t tear up the check. I’ll be happy to take it as a bonus, once we bring Krissy home.”
Edward startled, and then, for a split second, he actually looked as if he might smile. “Very well,” he agreed, picking up the check and putting it in his desk drawer. “It’s clear we understand each other.”
“Crystal clear.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
From Edward Willis’s office, Casey drove up to Armonk to carry out the house-hunting charade she’d arranged with Claire and Marc.
After several hours of pounding the pavement and ringing doorbells, they collapsed on the Willises’ sofa, worn- out as they discussed their findings. One thing was for sure: it was amazing the trivia you learned in a suburban neighborhood just by asking the right questions.
By the time the “happy couple,” escorted by their “Realtor,” had visited a ton of local residences in the Willises’ community, they knew more
While there were definite families who didn’t make the popular list, that list was, nonetheless, devoid of people demonstrating creepy behavior or questionable actions. Everyone described the neighborhood as warm, friendly and overwhelmingly safe. The recent abduction of Krissy Willis had sent shock waves through the community. The home owners all assured Claire and Marc that nothing like this had ever happened before, nor, given the extensive neighborhood watch that had been set up, did they intend to ever let it happen again.
Most of them were certain the crime had been a personal one, given the type of people the Willises dealt with in their work, and the high-profile nature of their careers. But not even one neighbor so much as hinted at a suspicion involving someone in the community.
Casey was unsurprised by the results, as were Marc and Claire.
“I didn’t pick up significant negative energy from any of our visits,” Claire pronounced. “And Hero didn’t pick up Krissy’s scent.”
“Agreed. It was just the usual affluent suburban competitiveness,” Marc clarified drily. “Whose landscaping was more elaborate, who had the latest and greatest model of Mercedes SUV, and whose built-in pool was larger. Nothing unexpected. Just another reason I’m glad I’m not a rich suburbanite.”
Casey gave him a half smile. “I hear you. As for what we did-or didn’t-find out, that comes as no surprise. None of us expected to hit the mother lode from this adventure. But we had to try.” She glanced down at her notes. “Just to tie this inquiry up with a neat little bow, I’ll email Ryan the names that came up most frequently in a negative capacity. He can check them out. If they’ve had so much as a run-in at a Little League game, he’ll find it.”
She began typing names into her BlackBerry.
“The FBI has been with Sidney Akerman all day,” Marc reminded her. “Do you think they found out anything?”
“I think Patrick would have let us know if they had.” Casey bit her lip thoughtfully. “I’m not quite sure why, but I trust him. Maybe it’s because he’s not officially on any side. Or maybe it’s because I sense the same maverick spirit in him as I do in us. Whatever the reason, I think he’d let us know if they were onto something. Weaving your way through the members of the mob is no easy task. They’re working with the details given to them by the FBI’s resident agency in upstate New York-details they obtained from the perp who cut a deal by giving them information on Sidney’s run-in with the mob. They’re also dealing with Tony Bennato, who bought that company. And they’re dealing with Joe Deale, who’s a small potato in a much bigger organization. It’s not going to come together in one day. Still…” A pensive pause. “It can’t hurt to be safe. Marc, you and Hutch haven’t had any time to catch up. Why don’t you drop by the North Castle P.D. and see if he wants to grab a drink, or a late lunch.”
Marc’s lips twitched. “I’m flattered. You think I can get more out of a friend and former colleague than you can out of a guy who can’t stay away from you for more than a few weeks at a time.”
“Damn straight, I do. Business is business. You’re former BAU. You worked together. And you’d be talking guy to guy. That’s about as sacred as it gets. Besides, this will give Claire and me a chance to talk to Hope and Vera. I want to get as many seemingly inconsequential details as I can. The more I get, the more Ryan has to run with.”
“True.” Marc rose. “Maybe I could also drop in on Joe Deale’s foreman, and intimidate him a little about those architectural plans. You never know how deep he’s in.”
“Good point. And good luck.”
“I’ll check in later.” Marc shot a quick wave at Claire and headed out the door, where Hero was waiting in the car.
The man-to-man stuff was underway. Time for a little woman-to-woman action.
Hope and Vera were seated in the Florida room, sipping on cups of chamomile tea, when Casey and Claire found them.
Hope jumped to her feet in a heartbeat. “Is there news?”
“Not yet,” Casey replied. “But we’d like to talk. I’ll fill you in on the names we’ve crossed off the list, and then I’d like to ask you both some questions. The questions may seem trite, but I assure you, they’re anything but.”
“All right.” Hope resettled herself on the couch. “Whose names did you delete from our suspect list? And how?”
Quickly, Casey ran through their house-buying charade.
“That’s very creative,” Hope commented when Casey was through. “But the FBI and the police have already interviewed all our neighbors. So that territory has been covered.”
“Yes and no. The task force did their job-very thoroughly. But police badges and FBI ID tend to intimidate people. So the interviewees automatically supply factual answers, rather than more detailed, personal ones. We took every iota of negative feedback, however small, and turned the information over to Ryan McKay, my techno- genius. He’ll do detailed searches on those people-so detailed that anything even remotely out of whack will pop up. That’ll support the law enforcement investigations, and eliminate a neighborhood of suspects altogether.”
Hope gave a wan smile. “I appreciate that. But it doesn’t bring me much comfort.”
“I agree. That’s why we want to talk.” Casey sat down and opened her notepad, gesturing for Claire to take a seat beside her. “I still believe that your sister and your daughter’s kidnappings are related. I think you do, too. The cops are digging into your father’s connection to the mob, however limited. I want to look at the past, too, but through a different route.”
“Which is?”
“You. I want you to think back thirty-two years. To rack your brains to remember every single detail, person or conversation associated with the time right before and after Felicity’s kidnapping. You’d be surprised how much each of us stores away in our memory that we don’t even realize is there. Events, snatches of conversation, and flashes of visual images. I’m asking you to trust me, and to try this. Claire can help us. If anything you touch on
