Chapter 14
Offices of Forensic Instincts
Ryan’s Lair
Tribeca, Manhattan, New York
Claire rapped lightly on the partially open door.
Rather than typing furiously at his computer, Ryan was on his feet, pacing around impatiently. He stopped when he saw Claire peering around the corner.
“Come on in,” he greeted her. “Did you just get back?”
She nodded. “First, I made sure Casey got home without collapsing. She was totally wiped. A very long day for her. Where is everybody?”
“They all headed home a few minutes ago. They’re on high alert, should they be needed.
Marc was really antsy about Maddy. Since she’s on bed rest, her nurse has been working round-the-clock, and he’s barely seen her since Friday.
Adele called Patrick to announce that she was making him his first hot meal in days.
Emma is going out to dinner with her roommates.
And Angela is wrapping things up with the last few of her former clients. ”
“I’m glad,” Claire replied. “We’re all on overdrive. A little come-down time is necessary—except for you,” she hastily amended. “Meanwhile, any news? Updates?”
“Yeah,” Ryan said with a nod. “Aidan called Marc about the blood on the floor at Shane’s house.
Marc was right. Aidan confirmed that the blood belonged to two different people—Shane and Caitlin.
Different blood types, specific DNA markers—the works.
Caitlin must have gotten injured when Shane was killed.
We have no idea how severe the wound is, although logic dictates it wasn’t too bad, given how little blood there was.
Still, Marc and Patrick were digging around all day, unsuccessfully, trying to come up with where Caitlin went to get treated—if she got treated at all. ”
“That makes sense.” Claire was eyeing Ryan as he shifted from one foot to the other. “You’re obviously waiting for Yoda to process something. Do you want me to come back later?”
“Nope.” He drew her to him, gave her a deep, tender kiss. “Screw our office rules. That kiss was just what I needed.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “Actually, I could use a whole lot more.”
“That’s going to have to wait,” Claire returned with a smile. “You can barely stand still, much less indulge in our fantasies. Tell me what’s bugging you.”
A grimace. “I can’t get a better handle on where in the Boston area Caitlin is, even though my gut tells me she’s still there. Yoda and I have been at it for hours. No clear path to figuring it out.”
“Yet,” Claire stipulated. “You’ll find answers.”
“I sure hope so.” Ryan plopped down on the wobble chair, rolling around in a clockwise circle to try to get rid of his excess energy. “What about you? You’ve spent the entire day interviewing my family. Any of them think of something we haven’t?”
“Overall? No. There were no surprises or contradictions. Everyone saw the Walshes the same way: as a warm and loving part of your family. None of your family members had seen them recently enough to pick up on tension or anxiety.”
Ryan knew Claire too well. “Overall? Then something did strike you.”
“Kennedy did.” Claire’s brows drew together in reflection. “She and I have a strong connection. When she sat down beside me, I could perceive much of her internal turmoil these past few weeks.”
Ryan stopped moving around. “Go on.”
Claire proceeded to fill him in on her conversation with Kennedy, as well as what she’d sensed when holding the young girl’s hands.
“And she’s been bottling all this anxiety up,” Ryan said with a frown.
“Not only the anxiety. The awareness. She knew her parents were going through something—something that threatened their family unit. She just didn’t hear enough to determine the who or the what.
” Claire’s inner concentration deepened.
“I’m going to have to combine all the knowledge I do have and use it while holding Shane’s and Caitlin’s personal items again. Maybe something will click.”
She paused, studying Ryan’s pained expression.
“Please don’t be stubborn. You and Yoda take a break,” she said quietly.
“Head over to your parents’ house for dinner.
Emotionally, you need to see Kennedy. And practically, you need to talk to your mom, to complete Casey’s explanation on Caitlin’s social media handles.
The two of them only spoke for ten minutes at the end of our visit.
I chatted with Kennedy to keep her occupied.
Casey told me that the @mimosagirl121 handle definitely struck a chord with your mom, as did the photo of the brunch table—complete with mimosas—that Caitlin posted on Instagram. ”
“What kind of chord?” Ryan demanded.
Claire shrugged. “She’s not sure yet. She’s racking her brain.
Also, Casey emailed her a bunch more handles and corresponding data from the car, but there’s information attached to all of them that has to be explained in person.
You do it. Be there. Your dad can watch a movie or play a game with Kennedy while you talk to your mom.
Then, you can tuck Kennedy in and head back to my place. ” A hint of a smile. “I’ll wait up.”
“Good to hear.” Ryan grinned. “Yoda?” he called out. “Give it a rest. We’ll pick it up in the morning.”
“I think that’s wise,” Yoda responded. “Perhaps by then we’ll get beyond our impasse.”
Ryan shot a quick look at Claire. “You go home. You look pretty wiped out, too.”
Claire hesitated. “I will—soon. But, while it’s all fresh in my mind, I want to go up to my yoga room for a while and see if anything clicks.” She turned and headed for the door. “Give Kennedy a kiss for me.”
The McKay Residence
East 236th Street
Woodland, Bronx, New York
Tuesday, March 14, 9:30 p.m.
Ryan pulled up a chair beside Kennedy’s bed and lowered himself into it, studying her pale face with concern.
Dinner had been tense, with his mom serving the meal, and then sitting down at the table beside Kennedy, scrutinizing her as they ate.
His dad had done his share of the scrutinizing, as well.
For her part, Kennedy had been very quiet, as she had been since SA Barkley called.
He’d thanked Maureen for turning her phone over to his people so promptly.
Then, he’d set up appointments for the following afternoon to interview first Maureen, and then Kennedy.
None of that was unexpected. Still, that didn’t make it any more palatable.
Ryan had managed to lighten the mood by telling Kennedy he planned to take her to the Old Ice Cream Shop while the FBI was with his mom for a “who can eat the most rainbow sprinkles on the hugest ice cream serving” contest. A sparkle had lit her way-too-serious eyes, and she’d given him a big smile.
“You’re going to lose,” she’d stated flatly. “So what’s my prize?”
Ryan didn’t miss a beat. “A return trip there so I can steal the championship from you.”
Kennedy giggled. “And if you lose again?”
“Winner’s choice. You’ll pick the prize and I’ll suffer.”
Even Maureen’s lips had twitched at that reply. “Don’t sound so cavalier,” she told Ryan. “Kennedy has yet to choose a destination that doesn’t excite you as much as it does her.”
Ryan grinned. “True. But I’ve got to seem humble.”
“Humility is not your strong suit,” his father pointed out, straight-faced, as his wife spooned out second portions of stew. Kennedy hadn’t done much damage with her first portion.
“Touché, Dad,” Ryan had replied. “You got me on that one.”
The light banter had continued throughout the rest of the meal, after which they’d enjoyed dessert and the latest family-friendly movie streaming on Netflix.
Nonetheless, when it came to bedtime, Kennedy’s tension and anxiety screamed to the forefront.
“I don’t think I can sleep,” she managed, her voice trembling. “When I try, all I do is cry or have nightmares.”
Ryan had stood, exchanging a quick glance with his mom before addressing Kennedy. “How about if I help Aunt Maureen and Uncle Colin clean up while you change into your PJs, and then I hang out in your room for a little while until you feel sleepy?”
A flicker of hope. “Would you?”
“My pleasure.” Ryan waved her toward the stairs and rolled up his sleeves, heading for the kitchen. “Be up in a minute.”
Kennedy nodded, walking up the steps with a heavy tread.
Maureen watched her disappear from view. “Every day, my heart breaks for her all over again,” she murmured to Ryan as she joined him at the sink, and Colin carried in the dishes.
“Mine, too.” Ryan’s hand paused on the faucet. “I’m sorry it’s going to be a late night. I still have social media stuff to go over with you. But right now—”
“Right now, Kennedy needs you,” Maureen finished for him. She patted her son’s arm. “I’ll be fine. I’ll fill Dad in and put up my feet while you sit with Kennedy. You and I will talk afterward.”
Ten minutes later, Ryan was sitting beside Kennedy, waiting while she undid the clasp on her pendant and placed it on the night table beside her. She then lay back, staring silently at the ceiling.
“It was a rough day, wasn’t it, sunshine?” Ryan asked gently, tucking a strand of hair off her face. “Getting that phone call and having to prepare?”
“Talking to Claire was easy,” she replied.
“She’s wonderful and the whole claircognizant thing is amazing.
But thinking about the interview with Agent Barkley—it’s really freaking me out.
” She turned her head toward Ryan, and there were tears glistening on her cheeks.
“Claire says he’s nice, that he won’t upset me, at least any more than I already am. Do you think she’s right?”
Ryan took Kennedy’s small hand in his. “Claire is usually right, so yes, it’ll be the way she says.”
“She believes Mommy is alive. I think she’s right about that, too.”
A hard swallow. “I agree. But don’t mention any of that to Agent Barkley.”