The Girl Who Disappeared Twice

who was who. She was sweet. And she claimed that each of us had our own sparkle.”

“Linda,” Vera said affectionately. “She was so fond of Felicity. She was one of the women I mentioned who came to our evening prayer vigils. Even after those initial weeks, Linda and I stayed in touch. We still do, now and then. But Hope is right. Linda always could tell the girls apart. So could our next-door neighbor, Gladys Evans and Fern Chappel, the school librarian. It seemed to be a gut feeling with some people. Of course, it was never an issue with Sidney and me. To us, each twin was unique and distinctive, physically and characteristically.”

Turning, Vera arched an eyebrow at Hope. “And, by the way, I caught on to that little game you and your sister played with the school nurse. I passed the details of your trick along to her. When one of you was sick, she knew just who to tell me to pick up. She’d describe what her patient was wearing, and I’d let her know if it really was Felicity or if it was her very loyal and naughty twin.”

“Oh.” Hope’s smile was sheepish. “We always did wonder why you sometimes got mixed up about who you were picking up and giving a sick day to.”

“Well, now you know.”

“Felicity wasn’t the only one who was sometimes afraid,” Claire pronounced.

“No, she wasn’t.” Hope’s smile faded. “I was afraid of sleeping alone when our parents were out. So, on those nights, she made sure we stayed in the same bed. We told our parents that it was because our babysitter’s talking on the phone kept me up. But it wasn’t true. I was scared. That’s why we were together the night of the kidnapping.”

“Yes,” Claire said softly. “But that night she was also scared for you. She saw the person in black go to you first. You were asleep. She saw your face get covered. She saw you go limp. She didn’t know what happened to you.”

“You can visualize the night of Felicity’s kidnapping?” Casey asked Claire, stunned by the realization.

Claire’s eyes opened. “Fragments of it, yes. The kidnapper was dressed in black. Wearing a hooded sweatshirt. And gloves. I can visualize black gloves. The handkerchief was drenched in chloroform. That’s all I see. I can feel fear and confusion. I can sense a commotion. But there’s nothing distinct. It’s all amorphous flashes.” A sigh. “I wish I could tell you more.”

“It’s a start,” Casey said. “A good one. I think we’ve made some real progress today.” A pause. “On several fronts.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Oh, Krissy, we have the whole lot of them so confused. They don’t know where to look first. And they’ll never look here. You’re safe.

I love watching you play with Oreo and Ruby. Your little face lights up, and you’re in a world of your own imagination. Imagination is a wonderful thing. It opens doors and dreams that no one can take away from you. It makes things right when everything is wrong. How well I know that. I’ll help keep you in that beautiful, magical world. I’ll keep you safe, make that imaginary world a reality.

It’s so precious the way you change your voice when Ruby is speaking, and then when Oreo answers. A high tweet with words intermingled, and a low but friendly growl mixed with more words.

Until today, I watched your playtime from outside the room, through the glass pane in the door. Those were my instructions. This time, everything changed. I was allowed inside. I couldn’t share your game, not yet. But I could see it up close, feel as if I were a part of it.

I came in and sat down quietly. You stiffened when I walked in, and you got that flicker of uncertain fear in your eyes. But that dissipated. And you didn’t cringe or wriggle away. You took the milk and cookies I brought, and you drank and ate them without hesitation. After you got that adorable milk mustache, you went into your favorite corner and started playing with your pretend friends.

You act as if I’m not here, but I know you know that I am.

Sweet Krissy. This is just the beginning. Soon you’ll let me into your pretend world. Soon you’ll include me. Then I’ll give you the surprise pretend world I developed for you. You’re smart. You’re creative. You’ll love it.

You need me. You don’t know it yet, but you do. No one understands that better than I do. I need what you need. But my needs were, and will be, met. And so will yours.

We just need a little more time.

Business at the rustic Armonk pub was starting to pick up as Marc and Hutch relaxed in one of the booths, drinking their pints of Sam Adams.

“I could ask to what do I owe this honor. But we both know the answer.” A corner of Hutch’s mouth lifted. “Casey sent her Navy SEAL out to do reconnaissance.”

Marc took a deep swallow of beer, then lowered his glass to the table. “Actually, she wanted to give you and me some catch-up time and for me to do reconnaissance. So it wasn’t entirely divisive. Besides, she knows damn well we wouldn’t be putting anything over on you by playing games. Nope. In your case, I wear my motives on my sleeve.”

“Fair enough.” Hutch was totally comfortable with Marc. They’d known each other for years, ever since Marc’s days at the BAU, where they’d become not only colleagues but friends. Marc had worked BAU-2, which covered crimes involving adults. Hutch was thinking of putting in for a transfer to that unit. Investigating the sexual violations, kidnapping and murder of children was beginning to get to him. He’d been a cop, he was a pro, but that didn’t mean he regarded life as any less precious. And kids-well, that was watching the utter decimation of innocence right before his eyes.

“Whatever you can tell me about the Sidney Akerman investigation would be appreciated.” Marc didn’t waste time mincing words.

“Technically, that’s nothing. It’s an ongoing investigation. And you’re not Bureau anymore.” Hutch shot Marc a wry grin. “Which is why I got my marching orders from Peg about precisely what I could and couldn’t say. She’s more interested in finding Krissy Willis than playing cat and mouse with Forensic Instincts. So tell me what you know, what you want to know, and I’ll fill in whatever blanks I can.”

“Okay,” Marc agreed. “Let’s start out with the biggest question. Do you know what crime family Tony Bennato works for?”

“Between what we found out from the soldier who flipped and what we got from our own informants, the Vizzini family.”

“So you’ve got the Vizzini squad at the New York Field Office working on it.”

“Yup. They’re pounding the pavement right along with us. They’ve got their long-term goals, which will include interviewing members of the family still serving time, those on the street, even those in the witness protection program, which they’ll work through the U.S. Marshals. But for now, they know what we need. We’re all about finding Krissy Willis. They’ll use their informants, and whatever Carl George-the seniormost member of the Vizzini case squad-can come up with. He was around in the late seventies. He may know one or more of the guys Sidney Akerman comes up with.”

“In other words, who might or might not be with the Bennato Construction Company.”

“Right.”

“I spoke to Joe Deale’s foreman earlier. Frankly, I think that he and Deale are both dead ends-unless they know something they don’t realize. What they do for Bennato is small potatoes. They’re sure as hell not privy to the big- league stuff.”

“You’re right,” Hutch replied. “We’ve got Deale on dealing and working as an enforcer, squeezing some dirtbags who are behind on their weekly installments. But he never heard of Sidney Akerman, and he’s too dumb to handle the job of kidnapping Krissy Willis in some far-fetched attempt to satisfy a thirty-two-year-old vendetta. He’s clueless. Ditto for that obnoxious foreman of his. We questioned him, too. He has no idea what we’re talking about. So, if Bennato is behind the kidnapping, he didn’t use those two. But, like you said, there’s always the chance they