“FBI! Stop where you are!” Casey heard Hutch’s command even as she felt him rush by her, weapon raised. Peg and a dozen other cops and agents followed suit, forming a half circle around the immediate area.
The woman froze.
“Help me,” she begged plaintively, not even trying to escape. “I can’t find my daughter.”
“We’ll find her for you.” Peg marched over to Felicity, holstering her gun and drawing Felicity’s hands behind her back so she could handcuff her.
Felicity stood by docilely, her face scratched and tear streaked, her eyes glazed, damp with worry. She looked like a frail, broken doll.
“Where did you last see your…daughter?” Hutch went along with the charade, more than aware that now was not the time to slam Felicity with reality.
“In the house. She ran away. I don’t know where she is. She could be hurt. Oh, God, this is all my fault. Please, please find her. I can’t leave her out there. The world is ugly. And Krissy is beautiful. A princess. Save her.”
“We will.” Hutch turned to Marc. “Do you have anything of Krissy’s with you?”
“I do.”
Before Marc could answer, a shaken voice brought their heads around. Hope was walking slowly toward them, Krissy’s T-shirt extended. She was staring at Felicity. Her mouth opened and closed several times, as if she wanted to say something but didn’t know what or how.
Felicity gazed back at her, confusion and wonder flashing across her face. “Hope?” she asked in a faraway voice. “Are you real? I thought that was you at the house. Mama said it wasn’t. She said I was imagining it, that I was just picturing Krissy and me together. But she was wrong, wasn’t she? You’re real.”
“Yes, Felicity, I’m real,” Hope answered in a shattered voice. She released Krissy’s T-shirt into Hutch’s hands, watching as he ran forward and waved it under Hero’s snout.
He and Marc took off with the determined bloodhound.
Hope’s stare shifted back to Felicity. She studied her sister’s depleted state, her mental deterioration, and all the accusations and venom she’d been harboring drained out of her. “Did you take good care of her?” she managed, remembering the laughter of a six-year-old twin who’d been stolen from her life.
“I tried.” Tears were sliding down Felicity’s cheeks. “But not hard enough. She got away. I—I don’t understand.” She lowered her head, breaking down entirely. “I don’t understand.”
Hope raised her head, and her gaze met Casey’s. She looked ill. “Will they find Krissy?” she managed. “Please?”
“There’s not a doubt in my mind,” Casey replied. “She can’t be far.”
Hero air-scented Krissy within minutes.
The instant he began pulling at the lead, Hutch and Marc began calling out.
“Krissy!” Hutch shouted. “We’re the FBI. Policemen. We’re here to help you.”
There was a slight rustle from the left.
“Krissy, it’s okay,” Marc called out. “We caught the woman who looks like your mommy. She can’t hurt you. And your real mommy is here. She wants to take you home.”
“But first you have to tell us where you are.” Hutch gestured to Marc, pointing at a cluster of trees diagonally ahead of them by about thirty feet.
Marc nodded.
Hero was already heading in that direction.
“Krissy?” Hutch called out again. “Where are you, honey?”
Hero rounded the circle of trees and began braying.
His outburst clearly startled Krissy, because she let out a soft cry.
“It’s okay,” Marc repeated, going up to the terrified child, who was cringing against the tree trunk. He squatted down so he was at her level. “This is Hero. He works with us. He’s very friendly. And he is a hero, because he helped us find you.”
The little blonde girl hugged her stuffed panda and robin, gazing at Marc with huge eyes. She had cuts on her arms and face, her clothes were torn and her hair was disheveled. But she was alive and unharmed. “Is he really a police dog?” she whispered.