The Girl Who Disappeared Twice (Forensic Instincts 1)

Ashley hastily disconnected her call the minute Casey walked into the kitchen. She looked jumpy—like someone who was either at the end of her rope, or had something to hide—as she met Casey’s stare.

“Hi…” she said in a tentative voice.

“Hello, Ashley.” Casey extended her hand. “My name is Casey Woods, and my organization is working with the Willises to help find Krissy.”

“Organization?” Ashley shook Casey’s hand, her own skin warm from holding the cell phone, and damp with nerves. “You’re not with the police or the FBI?”

“Nope. I’m with Forensic Instincts. We’re a private company, specializing in solving cases like these. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Ashley’s tongue wet her lower lip. “I’ve already told the authorities everything I know.”

“I’m sure you have. But since my colleagues and I just arrived, I’d appreciate if you could fill me in, as well.” Casey didn’t have to turn around to know that the Willises had come up behind her and walked into the kitchen. Nor did she have to hear their footsteps. She could read it all over Ashley’s face, see it in her eyes as her gaze darted past Casey, filled with a mixture of uncertainty and an appeal for help.

“It’s all right, Ashley,” Hope assured her, although Casey was quite certain that Hope wasn’t the Willis she was appealing to. “Tell Ms. Woods whatever she needs to know.”

Casey turned to Hope. “May I speak to Ashley alone? Maybe in a den or comfortable setting? I’m sure she’s overwhelmed by the events of the day.”

“Of course. There’s a Florida room behind the kitchen.” Hope pointed. “Take as much time as you need.” She went to the fridge, pulled out two bottles of water, and handed one to Casey and one to Ashley. Edward stood to the side, his features and posture stiff.

“Thank you.” Casey followed Ashley to the Florida room. The girl was definitely on overload. Maybe it was just a melt-down from the day. Or maybe it was guilt.

Casey suspected it was both.

“I’d like to start out by going over some basics with you,” Casey began as soon as they were seated on the comfortable lounge chairs in the glass-enclosed Florida room. “I hope you don’t mind if I take notes.” She pulled out a pad and pen.

“I don’t mind.” Ashley spread her hands in confusion. “But wouldn’t it be easier for you to get a copy of my police interview?”

“I’ll do that, too. But my group tends to focus on the personal rather than the procedural. So there might be things you can tell me that will help us help the authorities.”

“Like what?”

Casey clicked on her ballpoint pen and leaned forward. “Like giving me a mental picture of Krissy. Not her appearance—I can study the cops’ photo for that. I can also read the victimology report her parents supplied. But often those aren’t as in-depth as I’d like. Not where it comes to Krissy’s hot buttons, her private likes and dislikes, her subtle behavioral traits. In many ways, you were her primary caretaker. The Willises have busy, high-powered careers—especially Mr. Willis. That doesn’t mean they’re not exceptional parents but you’ve spent the most time with Krissy, ever since she was born. There might be nuances you’re familiar with that are fresher in your mind than they are in theirs.”

A faint smile touched Ashley’s lips. “Krissy’s always been special. She’s happy, she’s bright and she’s so precocious that even I have trouble staying a step ahead of her.”

Ashley went on to describe a bouncy, enthusiastic child who loved books, drawing and Disney’s Club Penguin, had lots of playdates and friends—including a little boyfriend named Scotty—was a Daisy Girl Scout, wanted to play the tuba when she reached third grade and who wished her straight blond hair was red and thick like her friend Erin’s, whose hair reached all the way down her back without getting even a little thin and pointy.

“Krissy would love your hair,” Ashley told Casey in a tone so filled with fondness that it couldn’t be faked. “She’d ask you a million questions about who in your family is a redhead and how you managed to inherit it.” Another small smile. “She’d also ask if you had a boyfriend, and if he liked red hair. Then she’d tell you all about Scotty and how much longer she can hang upside down on the monkey bars than he can. She’s not what you’d call shy or quiet.”

Casey put down her pad. “She sounds like a great kid.”

“She is. Everyone likes her.”

“What about her parents? Does everyone like them, too?”

An uncomfortable flush stained Ashley’s neck. “That’s a hard question for me to answer. They’re wonderful to me, and they always have been. They have tons of friends. But they both also have these jobs that produce enemies. So I can’t say….”

“I didn’t expect you to know details about their work lives. I was referring to any major disputes in their personal lives—with others, with each other.”

“Not that I know of,” Ashley answered quickly, defensively. Casey could see the pulse at her neck start beating a little faster. Nerves? Maybe.

Casey continued to speak in a calm, reassuring tone. “Ashley, my questions aren’t meant to hurt the Willises. They seem like lovely people. I just want to find Krissy. I’m not interested in uncovering any family skeletons. Those are none of my business. But family arguments can lead to outside confidences. And outside confidences can lead to angry, bitter friends. You practically live here. So I’m asking you if there are any internal or external conflicts you know about.”

That calmed Ashley down. “No, none.”

“Okay.” Casey switched gears. “I understand you were here at the house all day today, and that there were no visitors,”

The swift change in subject caught Ashley by surprise. “That’s right.”