The Girl Who Disappeared Twice

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Getting onto the grounds of Sunny Gardens this time was going to be a little trickier.

Marc cruised slowly by the main entrance, scanning the front lawn and pinpointing the garden where Ryan’s little critter was stashed.

There was no way he could use the same section of fence as last time to gain entry. It was too far down. Last night, he’d been headed around back, to a deserted section of grounds that was shielded by the construction site. Tonight, he was aiming for dead center, the most open area of the front grounds. If he went back to the remote section of fence he’d scaled last time, it would require his making his way across the entire front lawn. The floodlights would pick him up in any one of a dozen spots.

Not feasible.

So that left the area near the front gates.

Marc’s gaze shifted, focusing on the small security booth at the entranceway. There was one guard inside. Fortunately, there was also one TV. And the guard was lounging in a chair, drinking a can of soda and staring at the screen. Judging from his reactions-an occasional display of annoyance and a few fist-clenching punches of joy in the air-Marc determined he was watching a game. The Yanks were playing the White Sox tonight. The first pitch had been thrown out by the Yankees at eight o’clock. It was nine-fifteen now.

Just to be sure, Marc pulled over in a section of trees where he could see the guard but the guard couldn’t see him. Marc turned on the radio, locating the station that broadcasted Yankee baseball. He listened-and watched the guard.

Sure enough, the Yanks pulled off an expert double play that finished off the bottom of the third inning. Simultaneously, the security guard leaned forward in his chair, his smile broad, his lips forming the emphatic word yes!

Clearly, it was the same game.

Marc drove a short distance and made a U-turn, pulling off the road into a cluster of bushes on the same side of the street as the facility. Approximately two hundred yards before the main gate, the space was facing the direction Marc needed to go to head for home.

Last night, he’d planned on spending a block of time inside the building. Consequently, leaving his vehicle across the road and far away where it wouldn’t be spotted was imperative. Tonight was a grab and go. He needed his car as close to him as possible without being visible. His only task was to find and snatch Gecko, and get the hell out of there.

Bearing that in mind, he grabbed the small backpack he’d brought along, and quietly left his car. He crept down the grassy side of the road, pausing just to the right of the security booth, where the guard’s back was to him.

He waited for the next visibly exciting play of the game. The guard was at the edge of his seat, gripping his soda can tightly and staring at the screen.

Marc seized the opportunity.

He scaled the fence in a few smooth moves and dropped onto the grass inside. He squatted low, watching and waiting.

The guard was oblivious to anything but his evening entertainment.

Swiftly, without so much as a rustle, Marc sprinted across the lawn, moving between the gaps in the floodlight beams, until he reached the eastern garden. He squatted down and whipped out the penlight flashlight he kept in the pocket of his jeans. Flicking it on, he anchored it between his teeth and aimed it downward.

It took about two minutes to find the spot in the shrubbery that Ryan had described in detail. It took less time than that to retrieve Gecko, stick him in the backpack and retrace his steps to the fence.

Again, Marc remained crouched, waiting, sizing up the situation inside the security booth.

The guard was stretching. He scratched his head and looked idly around, using commercial time to do a perfunctory check of the area.

The game resumed. The guard’s scrutiny of his surroundings ended, and his attention shifted back to whichever Yankee was at bat.

Marc was up and over the fence, and on his way to his car before the ump could call strike one.

It was after eleven when Marc strode into the brownstone.

Casey and Ryan were pacing the floors. They jumped on Marc the instant he stepped inside.

“Did you find Gecko?” Ryan demanded.

“Yup.” Marc whipped the little critter out of his backpack and turned him over to Ryan. “Nice directions. He was right where you said he would be.”

“And no one saw you?” Casey asked, already knowing the answer.

Marc arched a brow. “A half-assed guard watching a Yankee game is not exactly a major challenge. And the positions of the floodlights were predictable as hell. Let’s face it, Casey, it’s a medical facility, not a terrorist compound.”

“I know. I wasn’t worried about the employees. I was worried about the task force.”

“No sign of them.”

“And I haven’t heard from Patrick. So, hopefully, we’re still ahead of the game.” Casey turned to Ryan. “What next?”

“Next we go to the conference room.” Ryan was already leading the way up the stairs.

Once inside, Ryan went straight over and plugged Gecko into a specially designed connector, where he began to recharge his battery and retrieve the information stored inside the little critter’s memory.

It didn’t take long for the first sights and sounds to come through.

Linda, sitting in the garden. Time passing as she gazed placidly around. Then impatience, followed by eagerness.

Abruptly, her eyes lit up and she began to wave her entire arm. “I’m here, baby. Right here.”

“Hi, Mama.” An eerily familiar voice reached their ears. “It’s so good to see you.”

Linda’s visitor came into view. She walked over, leaned down and hugged the older woman. Then, she straightened, and the camera got a full frontal view of her.

And all three of the Forensic Instincts team’s jaws dropped.

The person visiting Linda was Hope Willis.