So what are you saying?
I think Nelson selected Pollard to stage his own suicide.
16
Calgary, Alberta
The Southern Alberta District headquarters for the RCMPs K Division in northeast Calgary was housed in a glass-and-brick building overlooking Deerfoot Trail, the citys major expressway.
Thankfully, it was also near the airport, Kate thought as she wheeled her rented Toyota into the parking lot.
Kate had arranged to meet a Corporal Jared Fortin at 9:00 a.m. to discuss Tara Dawn Maes disappearance and Vanessas case.
She had ten minutes before her meeting and checked her phone for messages. Nothing new. Smiling at her daughters face, she remembered what Grace had said before giving her a million hugs goodbye yesterday.
I hope you find out what happened to Aunt Vanessa, Mom.
Kate entered the building and went to the front desk.
Im Kate Page. I have an appointment with Corporal Jared Fortin, who I believe is with Major Crimes.
Yes, one moment, please.
As the receptionists keyboard clicked, Kate looked at the wall map behind her. The Southern Alberta District had more than thirty detachments and covered everything in the southern region of the province west of Calgary to British Columbia, east to Saskatchewan and south to Montana, an area larger than most states.
The receptionist stopped and looked at Kate.
Kate Page, from New York City?
Yes.
Did Corporal Fortin not contact you about today?
No. Is there a problem?
The woman resumed concentrating on her monitor, then, finding something, her expression changed, indicating all was well.
No, its fine. Sorry. She then requested Kate exchange two pieces of photo ID for a visitors badge and her signature on a sign-in sheet. Thank you. Please have a seat. Someone will be right with you.
Kate went to the waiting area, wondering if the receptionist had inadvertently signaled a problem. She sat in a chair and glanced at the spread of magazines on the table. Something was up. She took out her phone. She hadnt received any new messages. She scrolled through news sites out of Rampart, scanning stories for any updates.
Shed found nothing new.
Ms. Page?
A man in a dark blue suit had materialized. He was about six feet tall with a solid build, short brown hair and thick mustache. He looked to be in his late forties.
Staff Sergeant Ian Owen. He extended his hand. Im Corporal Fortins supervisor. Right this way.
He led her to his office. Through the large windows Kate saw jets approaching the airport. Sergeant Owen directed her to a chair before his desk.
Can I get you a coffee or anything?
No, thank you. Im fine.
Owen sat, took up his pen and leaned forward, staring at it for a moment.
Ms. Page, Ill come to the point. I know why youre here. Unfortunately, theres not much we can do to help you.
But Corporal Fortin assured me he was willing to discuss my sisters case and the cold case of Tara Dawn Mae.
He explained your call to me. All I can say is that were supporting an active investigation in another jurisdiction.
But the case in Rampart, New York, and the case in Brooks, Alberta, are linked and theres every possibility theyre linked to my sister.
I understand, and I can only imagine how terrible this sounds to you, especially after youve traveled here from New York.
As Kates heart sank, she grew angry. Angry at herself for believing police here would help her when, in the back of her mind, she knew cops were all the same. As her resentment rose she realized what had happened.
Youve been talking to Ed Brennan about me, havent you?
As I said, were supporting another jurisdiction in an ongoing investigation.
I got that. Forgive me for being blunt, Staff Sergeant, but Im not an idiot. Let me give you some context, which Im sure you know from talking to Rampart. Ed Brennan called me, requesting my help. He asked me to bring my necklace to him so he could compare it to one found at his scene, which resembles my sisters necklace.
Owen said nothing, letting Kate continue.
At the same time, theres evidence at the Rampart scene thats tied to the disappearance of Tara Dawn Mae, which is in your yard. Now, here we sit, some one hundred and fifty miles from where I lost my sister in the Kicking Horse River.
That was twenty years ago near Golden, BC. Thats E Divisions jurisdiction.
Stop, stop this bureaucratic police bull, please! I was underwater in that river when our car crashed into it. I held my sisters hand-
Ms. Page, I understand but-
No, Im sorry, you dont understand. For twenty years Ive lived with being told my sister was dead. But her body was never found and Ive refused to give up hoping that shed somehow survived. And now her necklace surfaces at a murder scene in New York with a link to the cold case of a missing girl from your jurisdiction. Ive cooperated with you guys. Ive given you my necklace, my DNA, yet you, just like Brennan, throw up your hands with the I cant discuss the case, its an ongoing investigation when we all know that its the ghost of my sister thats tying this all together for you!
Owen repositioned his pen as his jawline pulsed.
Since were being blunt, allow me to give you a little context, Ms. Page. Its my understanding that you have charges pending against you in Rampart for trespassing on a crime scene, possibly tampering or planting evidence?
Oh, for Gods sake, I did not tamper or plant evidence.
Owen leaned forward.
That may be, but given your personal stake, a good defense attorney could easily create the perception in court that you did, and destroy a case, allowing someone guilty to go free. Now how do you think that would sit with the family of Bethany Ann Wynn?
Kate let out a long, tense breath and glanced at the 747 approaching the airport.
Ms. Page, Im sure you can appreciate that its critical for investigators not to risk weakening an iota of the case so that it will remain solid when it comes to prosecuting it.
Kate said nothing, letting a few moments pass.
I think itd be best if you let us do our job. Owen stood to conclude the meeting. Give me your contact information and if there are any developments that I can share with you, I give you my word, I will.
Kate reached into her bag for her wallet and handed him one of her business cards. Owen then escorted her to the reception desk, where she traded her visitors pass for her identification.
Safe travels, Ms. Page. Owen shook her hand.
In her car, Kate was still simmering from the exchange.
Before shed left New York for Alberta, shed made other calls. She paged through her notes for other people whod agreed to talk to her.
Sheri Young was a neighbor of Barton and Fiona Mae at the time of Tara Dawns disappearance. Then there were Eileen and Norbert Ingram, who now owned the Maes former house. And the Childrens Searchlight Network was working on finding her people familiar with the Mae case. She roared out of the lot. As she glanced at the RCMP building in her rearview mirror an image burned across her mind.
A tiny hand rising from the cold dark water
Kate squeezed the wheel. No way was she backing off.
Not now.
Not ever.
17
Tilley, Alberta
Kate drove toward the horizon undaunted.
The Trans-Canada Highway east from Calgary cut across gentle hills that soon flattened for as far as she could see. Still smarting from her meeting with the RCMP, she was now counting on the people of Southern Alberta to help her.
Certainly, well talk to you, Eileen Ingram had told her earlier when Kate had called. Eileen and her husband, Norbert, were the current owners of the Maes house.
Two hours after leaving Calgary, Kate had reached Brooks, a small prairie city known for agriculture, gas, oil and meat processing. Staying on the Trans-Canada, she passed the Grand Horizon Plaza.
The truck stop where Tara Dawn Mae was last seen fifteen years ago.
Kate continued east to the hamlet of Tilley then followed a ribbon of highway south for another fifteen minutes or so before coming to the remote property amid the eternal rolling treeless plain. It was a modest two-story frame house, set back from the road. Gravel crunched under her tires when she rolled along the driveway to the house. Two women and a man stepped onto the porch to greet her.
Im Eileen, this is my husband, Norbert, and this is our neighbor, Sheri Young. She used to babysit Tara Dawn for Fiona and Barton.
You made good time, Norbert said as Kate shook everyones hand, noticing that Norbert held an unlit pipe.
Thank you for agreeing to see me.
The house smelled of soap and fresh soil. They led her to the kitchen and a table covered with a checkered tablecloth. Everyone sat while Eileen made tea and coffee, then set down a plate of cookies.
Eileen told us about your accident in BC, when you were a child. Norbert looked into the bowl of his unlit pipe. What a terrible thing.
You really think that Tara Dawns disappearance is connected to your sisters case? Sheri spooned sugar into her coffee.
Eileen told us about your accident in BC, when you were a child. Norbert looked into the bowl of his unlit pipe. What a terrible thing.
You really think that Tara Dawns disappearance is connected to your sisters case? Sheri spooned sugar into her coffee.
Yes, a lot of new factors have surfaced with a recent murder and suicide in New York State.
What sort of factors? Eileen passed Kate a mug.
Kate gave them an account of what was found at the Rampart site and how, along with dates, it all aligned with Vanessa and Tara Dawns cases.
That sounds unsettling, for sure, Eileen said.
Could be theres something to it. Norbert nodded.
Im not sure how much we can help, though, Eileen said. We never knew the Mae family. Were from Manitoba and bought this place ten years ago this spring after Norbert retired from the railroad. Sheri knew the family better than anyone.
I did, Sheri said. What would you like to know?
Tell me what you can about the Maes, about Tara Dawns adoption and her disappearance.
Well Sheri reached back over the years. Barton and Fiona didnt mix with other people. They were private, deeply devout. You only saw them at church, or at the store. They just worked on their farm. Then Fiona had a baby, a girl, but she died after a year.