The Girl Who Disappeared Twice (Forensic Instincts 1)

“So neither of you knows where he lives?” Casey asked, trying to repress the urge to push harder.

“Not a clue.” Hope wasn’t stupid. Her head came up, and her gaze darted from Casey to Lynch and back. “Why do you ask? Do you think he might know something about Krissy?”

“I think we can’t afford to leave any stone unturned,” Casey responded bluntly. “Sidney Akerman is Krissy’s grandfather, whether or not they’ve met. His whereabouts are unknown. We have to change that.”

“I agree,” Patrick Lynch chimed in. “I remember what a mess he was after Felicity was taken. He was actively involved in every step of the investigation. He might remember something we’re forgetting. We have to track him down and talk to him.”

Casey whipped out her BlackBerry. “I’ll get Ryan on it right away. He can find anyone.” She punched in her office number and swiftly relayed the details of what she needed to Ryan. “He’ll get back to me as soon as he has something,” she reported, punching off her phone.

Lynch reversed his steps, turning and heading for the hall. “I’m going to pull Peg Harrington aside and tell her the situation. Then, we can get started.”

Casey glanced at Hope, who was currently leaning over to soothe her mother. Using the brief window of time to her advantage, Casey walked discreetly over to Patrick Lynch, way-laying him in the doorway with a hand on his forearm.

“Mr. Lynch, before you go, I have a blunt question to ask you. Would you be willing to combine your resources with Forensic Instincts, and work in conjunction with us? The advantage is that you and my team share the same independent status. The FBI task force is inundated with avenues to pursue and potential suspects to interview. I doubt that opening up a cold case that’s three decades old is high on their list.”

A corner of Lynch’s mouth lifted. “In other words, you want access to my notes and to the old case file.”

“Precisely.” Casey saw no point in playing games. “Like I said, the Bureau can’t put their resources into what appears to be a long shot. But we can. Not to mention the fact that we can push the boundaries in ways the police and the FBI can’t.”

One dark eyebrow rose. “I agree with your first premise. The task force has to concentrate on the most promising—and current—leads. As for the boundary-pushing, I’m not interested. After thirty-five years with the Bureau, I’m a creature of habit. On the other hand, I don’t miss the paperwork. So I don’t mind cutting a few corners. Just don’t expect me to be a maverick. If you can live with that, I’d be happy to take you up on your offer—if the sharing of information is mutual.”

“It will be.”

“Good.” Lynch’s tone said that he was on board. “And, by the way, the name’s Patrick.”

Informal. Direct. No bullshit.

Casey liked this man.

“And I’m Casey,” she replied. “I’ll make sure you meet my other team members, Marc and Ryan, ASAP. In the meantime, can we talk after you get the okay from Peg? That way, you can fill in some blanks for me, and I’ll do the same for you. It’ll eliminate my having to ask too much of Mrs. Akerman. The last thing she and Hope need is to be repeatedly dragged through the worst time of their lives. Especially now. We need to keep their hopes alive, not imply that Krissy’s case will end the same way Felicity’s did.”

“I think that’s wise.” Patrick nodded. “I’ll talk to Peg. Then I’ll meet you outside the house in twenty minutes.”

As requested, Casey gave Ryan a quick call while she was waiting outside.

“Okay, I’m alone now,” she said. “What did you want to tell me?”

“I’ve got the names of four disgruntled fathers who lost custody of their kids in Judge Willis’s courtroom during the last few months,” he replied. “All who were ripping pissed when she took away their custodial rights. All whose background checks show raging tempers and questionable lifestyles. All who fit our main kidnapper’s profile—right down to girlfriends with low self-esteem. And all who openly threatened Judge Willis in her courtroom. I’ll text you the list.”

“Let’s not waste time hanging up and texting.” Casey whipped out a pad and pen. “I’ll write down the info and check into it.” She scribbled all the specifics Ryan provided, including names, addresses, phone numbers and current employment information. “I’ll pay these guys visits as soon as I’ve talked to Patrick Lynch. He’s a real find. You’ll like him.”

“I’m sure. In the meantime, I’ll dig up what I can on Sidney Akerman. The guy is either dead or really doesn’t want to be found.”

“Interesting.” Casey digested that tidbit. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. Your canine vacuum cleaner and gauze pads got here, along with some jars and tongs. And your dog just peed on my shoe.”

Casey laughed. “Then take him out. He could use the exercise. Unlike you, he doesn’t have a gym membership.”

“Maybe he should. He’s already dragged me to the park and sniffed out every square inch.” A sigh. “Fine. I’ll take him out back and tire him out. I hope he’s not getting a salary. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“He will. That’s what that STU-100, canine vacuum cleaner, is for.”

“Good. Then he can use his first paycheck to reimburse us for the rug—and me for my shoes. On the other hand, he’s got a hell of a nose. He’d be a great navigator for adventure racing.”

“You and Hero can coordinate your schedules later. And I’ll explain the STU-100 to you.”

“No need. This is me. Already checked the website. I know the drill. Gauze in place. Personal article on gauze. Vacuum for thirty seconds. Gauze collects smells. Jar stores gauze. Hero has Krissy’s scent. Done deal.”