Hero and, if they were lucky enough to close in on any suspects, let the bloodhound do his work.
For the umpteenth time, Casey reminded herself that this wasn’t supposed to be about apprehending the person responsible for Jan’s disappearance, just about locating the young woman or her body. But Casey couldn’t help herself. She was desperate to catch the scumbag who, if her instincts were right, was a serial killer. She wanted to give Daniel Olson the peace he required. At the same time, she wanted to nail Jan and Holly’s killer.
She worked methodically with the vacuum, and then handed the stuffed animal and the pillow back to Jan’s father. “Thank you. This is great for now. My whole team will be on this. I’ll get back to you as soon as we have a lead.”
“I appreciate it.” The dying man looked so grateful, it was emotionally painful to witness. “Time is working against me. I’m aware of your reputation. So I feel my first sense of hope.”
“Hang on to that,” Casey urged, zipping up her tote bag and giving Hero’s leash a light tug to let him know they were leaving. “We’ll find the answers you’re looking for.” She knew she was making a promise she might not be able to deliver. But she couldn’t help it. She had to give Jan’s father something to hold on to.
It was up to her and the FI team to make that something a reality.
Bottles, Wines and Spirits
Morningside Heights, NY
The liquor store was a few blocks away from Columbia. Kendra and her friend Marie made a quick trip there after classes were over. They were eager to buy a large enough quantity of booze to impress the upperclassmen at the frat party they were going to that night. Kendra had her fake ID, so the age restriction wasn’t an object. And they’d be paying in cash, so there’d be no credit card receipts to explain to their parents.
It didn’t take long to make their selections. This place was great, because it was cheap. They picked up five bottles—three of vodka and two of rum—and carried them up to the register.
The guy behind the counter was in his early-to mid-thirties. With dark hair slicked back in a ponytail and wearing a T-shirt with a name plate that said “Barry” on it, he looked grungy, as if he didn’t enjoy taking showers. He studied the two of them for a minute—during which Kendra was getting ready to produce her ID. Abruptly, he averted his gaze, ringing up their bottles one by one, and shoving them into two brown paper bags.
“Here ya go.” He handed them the bags, eyeing them again in a way that was somehow creepy. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, when another customer interrupted, strolling up to the counter to make his purchase. So whatever he’d been about to say remained unsaid. He turned away, directing his attention to ringing up the next order.
The girls weren’t sorry to get away from him.
They made their way back to campus, chatting as they walked.
“How sketchy was that Barry guy?” Marie asked with a slight shudder.
“Totally sketchy,” Kendra agreed, grimacing. “I was happy to get out of there.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
“I think I’ve seen him before,” Kendra mused. “It must have been at this store, although I didn’t make the connection. Anyway, he’s a creeper. I hope there’s someone else at the counter when I go back.”
Marie nodded. “What time do you want to meet tonight?” she asked. “And where?”
“Why don’t we meet up outside the frat house. Say, nine o’clock.”
“Works for me.” Marie nodded. “I live closer to the frat house than you. I’ll take the booze back to my dorm and bring it with me later.”
“Perfect.” Kendra handed Marie the bag she’d been carrying.
“I’ve got a take-home exam,” Marie said, rolling her eyes. “I can’t wait to finish it. Then I’ll pick out something to wear.”
Kendra grinned. “This should be a cool party.” The two girls split up and went their separate ways.
And once again, a pair of eyes followed their motions.
Chapter Five
Holly Stevens’s police report arrived at the Forensic Instincts office late that afternoon. The contents were immediately scanned and stored on the server. Pages were printed out for each team member, all of whom stopped what they were doing to read and analyze it. Then they had a brief meeting to see how—and who—could best utilize the information gleaned from the two-page report.
Ryan was elected as the starting point. He’d already run a basic timeline search on Jan Olson’s life. Now he’d cross-check it with Holly’s.
Before heading down to his lair, Ryan swiveled his chair toward Marc.
“I found Brenda Miller,” he informed him. “She’s married, listed under the name Brenda Reins and living in Greenwich, Connecticut.” He passed along a three-page printout. “I got a basic rundown on her, as well as digging up her address and phone number. She’s a typical suburban mom, juggling a job at a nonprofit organization with raising three kids.”
Marc glanced at his watch. “I can make Greenwich in a little over an hour—maybe longer, if I get caught in rush hour traffic.” He took the printout. “I’ll get on the road now.”
“Since I know you like to go for the element of surprise, I called ahead to make sure you wouldn’t be wasting your time,” Ryan said. “A tween kid answered. I pretended to be a telemarketer. I heard a woman in the background. So I’m guessing she’s home.”
Marc shrugged. “Even if she wasn’t, she probably would be once I showed up. There’s nothing like dinnertime to bring the family together. And if she happens to be out, I’ll wait.”
“She drives a dark green SUV.” Ryan gave Marc the year and the model, along with the license plate number. “So if you see the car in the driveway or the garage, you’re in luck.”
“Gotcha.” Marc glanced across the conference room table at Casey, who’d been unusually quiet during this minimeeting. “Does that work for you or do you need me here?”
“It works. And I’m going with you.” Casey set down Jan Olson’s date book, which she’d been studying for the past hour. “We need to really probe the boyfriend angle with Brenda. Whether Jan was seeing one guy or ten, I want as much info on them as possible. And Brenda is more apt to be open with another woman than with a man. You can question her about everything else, Marc. But I’m taking the boyfriend route.”
“Okay.” Marc’s eyes narrowed quizzically. He knew that expression on Casey’s face. She was focused on something in particular—something she thought might be significant. “Want to share?”
Casey pointed at the date book. “Daniel Olson was right. Jan was a typical teenage girl, who made typical entries in her date book. One of the most common notations is something a father would never notice.” She pointed at one page, then another, and finally a third.
“What are we looking
