“I’ll do that,” Patrick intervened. “If you picked up on Sidney Akerman’s trail, I want to follow it. He was always one of my missing pieces. There was never any doubt that he was a genuine wreck when Felicity was kidnapped. But there was also no doubt that he became an angry drunk afterwards. Plus, the fact that he’s been MIA for decades is a huge loose end. It’s my responsibility to see it through. I’ll head up to Ithaca early tomorrow.”
No one argued. Patrick had supplied them with all the background on the Akerman cold case. It was his right to pursue this lead.
But Casey wanted to know a lot more about the Felicity Akerman abduction than where Sidney Akerman fit into the puzzle. After her conversation with his ex-wife earlier today, she had other people of interest to ask about.
“Patrick, let’s all go upstairs to our conference room,” she suggested. “That’s our think tank, the place where we do our best brainstorming. Appropriate, since you and the group of us have a mountain of information to share.”
“Share being the operative word,” Patrick returned drily. “I’m not going upstairs to be interrogated.”
“Then you’re going to be majorly pissed off,” Casey answered with her usual candor. “Because I plan on firing questions at you. I also plan on giving you ample time to do the same.”
A gruff laugh. “You’re quite the force to be reckoned with, aren’t you, Casey Woods?”
“I like to think so. But this isn’t about me trying to one-up you. Time is running out. We all know it. If we don’t put our heads together and come up with some answers—and I mean now—we’ll lose any shot of finding Krissy Willis.” Casey’s pause was grim. “And when we do find her…I pray she’s still alive.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Day Three
The medical complex was set in a section of countryside just north of Westchester County. The grounds weren’t vast, but they were well maintained, especially the colorful gardens. The buildings were kept clean, even if they appeared a bit Spartan and institutional looking.
The facility was called Sunny Gardens. And it was the best that a middle-class income could afford.
The woman sat in one of the lovely gardens overlooking the park. She gazed across the grounds, not really seeing them. Her mind was wandering to a different place and time. Sometimes her thoughts were vivid and clear, as real as if they were happening right now. Other times, the present and the past melded into one, and, try though she would, she couldn’t separate them. Those days she felt very confused, and she was happy for her medication. She also needed the nurses to explain. Sometimes they were wrong. She knew it. But sometimes they were right. She just wasn’t always sure when.
Today was a fairly good day. She understood where she was. She even had a good idea why. And she was certain that today was Wednesday, which meant she’d have a visitor. Her favorite visitor.
Her little girl.
She worried a lot. Maybe seeing her mama like this would frighten the child. True, she never showed signs of fear. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid. She was always so good at hiding her emotions.
Was that what she was doing now?
The nurse was walking over, a big smile on her face. The name tag on her uniform said Marla Greene. Marla Greene—did she know her? She must. Because the nurse was gazing at her with familiar recognition.
“Lunchtime,” she announced cheerily.
“Lunchtime?” The woman shook her head vehemently. “It can’t be. My baby’s not here yet.”
“Maybe she’s coming later today,” Marla Greene suggested. “You kn
ow how much work she has.”
“Yes.” The woman beamed. “She’s smart. I gave her extra homework to do.”
“Well, that explains why she’s late. So let’s go inside and have some lunch. You need to keep up your strength for her.”
“Of course. You’re right.” The woman allowed Marla Greene to help her to her feet, and to guide her back to the main facility. “I have to keep things straight in my mind, so I can keep teaching her. I’m the only one who can.”
Patrick drove rapidly up the highway. Ithaca was only four hours and change from his place, and he’d left the city right after breakfast. So he’d be showing up at Plainview Elementary School by noon.
Ryan McKay was obviously damned good at what he did. For over a year after Felicity’s abduction, and sporadically thereafter, Patrick had tried to find a lead on Sidney Akerman’s whereabouts—and come up empty-handed. Of course, today’s technology changed all that by leaps and bounds. So Patrick was cautiously optimistic that he’d locate Hope and Felicity’s father.
And then what? Did the man know anything, or was he just another dead end?
Patrick thought back to the time of the original abduction. Sidney Akerman had been all over the FBI from the get-go. Half the time, he’d been inebriated, but that didn’t stop his relentless quest to find Felicity. He’d cooperated fully, taken and passed his polygraph test and answered all the questions he was asked during his interview. After that, he’d insisted on being told about every lead—until time and stress wore him down and the liquor won out.
Could he have information he didn’t even realize he had—information that would tie these crimes together and shed light on his granddaughter’s kidnapping? Did he even know he had a granddaughter?