Throughout everything Kate had accepted that her life was an ongoing search for the truth about her sister and forgiveness.
A highway distance sign flashed by.
Kate was now less than forty-five minutes from the crash site.
She let out a long breath and pulled into a gas station in the tiny town of Field, British Columbia. She got fuel, used the restroom, bought a bouquet of fresh flowers and returned to the highway.
As she got closer to the site, her memories of that day twenty years ago grew stronger andsinging voices echoed.
Old MacDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O
Kate and Vanessa were in the backseat. They were both wearing their necklaces. It was a happy time. Their foster father, Ned, a bus driver, was at the wheel, beside him, Norma, his wife, a secretary. They were on vacation, singing and marveling at how the mountains were so close to the road you could almost touch them as they formed sheer rock walls shooting straight up so far you couldnt see the top.
It got darker and cooler in the shadows of the mountains. Kate remembered Norma telling Ned to slow down each time theyd passed a road sign warning of falling rocks. She remembered that when they came to a great valley the car started making a noise, Ned saying how theyd stop in the next town so he could take a look at it.
They were about ten miles east of Golden, British Columbia, where the Kicking Horse River intertwines with the Trans-Canada Highway.
And on his farm he had a duck
Suddenly Neds swearing, turning the wheelbangNormas screamingtheyre flying-how could that be-flying, spinningoff the roadthe world is rolling upside downthe cars crashing into the riversinkingeverythings in slow motionthe windows breaking opencold water rushing inholding her breathNed and Norma screaming, struggling underwaterdarkthe dome lights glowthe cars upside downroof banging against the rocky riverbedthe strong current pushing the carKate unbuckles her seatbeltunbuckles Vanessasgrabbing Vanessas handlungs burstingpulling her outtheyre out of the car swimmingnearing the surfacethe currents sweeping them downrivernumbing herher fingers looseningVanessas slipping awayher hand rising from the water, then disappearing VANESSA!
It all happened here, right here.
Kate had stopped her rental on the shoulder, stood next to it and stared at the river, listening to its rush. It was here. She checked the photographs in the timeworn newspaper clippings, checked the highways curve, the rock formations near the river-Three American Tourists Killed When Car Crashed Into River
Kate didnt remember much of the aftermath. Images blurred by police, rescuers, flying back to Chicago with a young social worker who cried with her, the memorial services for Ned, Norma and Vanessa, a grief counselor and more foster homes.
And the nightmares.
Vanessas hand.
They dragged the river where they could. They used divers and dog teams, search groups and a helicopter, to scour the banks but found nothing after five days of searching. Vanessas body may have been wedged in the rocks, they said. It may have been washed up and dragged into the wild by wolves, cougars or a bear. All were possibilities.
Kate was the lone survivor.
Why did I survive? Why me?
She squeezed the flower stems tight as she carefully made her way to the rivers edge. One by one she dropped flowers into the flowing water, watching each of them twirl downstream.
Why did I survive? Why me?
She squeezed the flower stems tight as she carefully made her way to the rivers edge. One by one she dropped flowers into the flowing water, watching each of them twirl downstream.
Please forgive me, Vanessa. Im so sorry I let you slip away. Why couldnt they find you? I have to know what happened. I cant go on like this. Are you dead? Are you here, somewhere? Or did you somehow survive? Where are you Vanessa? What happened?
Kate studied the river and scanned the vast forests and glorious mountains. She sat on the bank. It was beautiful, peaceful and spiritual. She didnt know how long shed been there when her phone rang.
Surprised that she had service here, she looked at it, thinking it might be Nancy with Grace returning her call.
The number was for Newslead in Manhattan. She answered.
Kate, Reeka at the office. Can you talk?
What is it?
The Associated Press has just moved a story out of Rampart, citing unnamed sources, saying that additional human remains have been found in what police suspect are multiple murders at a remote barn site. Kate, why didnt you alert us to this?
What?
Kates mind raced. Reekas nerve! More victims! Was Vanessa one?
Why didnt you advise me of this, Kate, given your involvement?
You wanted me fired for my involvement, Reeka.
Youre still a Newslead employee.
But you wanted me fired. You said there was no story there.
Obviously things have changed.
What do you want from me?
This is poised to become a huge story and we cant let our competition beat us on it. I want you to tell me all you know so I can pass it to our bureau people in Rochester and Syracuse.
No.
What did you say?
Kate hung up and stared at the river.
22
Calgary, Alberta
It was a mistake to hang up on Reeka Beck.
Probably a fatal one given Newsleads plan to cut staff, Kate thought while driving back to Calgary, still stinging from the call.
Damn, Reeka had a lot of gall. But its no surprise. She resents me.
Maybe it was Reekas queen-bee syndrome. Kate had encountered it before with women in other newsrooms. Or maybe it was because Reeka regarded her as a gutter-girl-slut, a lowly community college grad.
Well, to hell with her, calling the way she did to attack me. She had it coming and Im too tired to think about her right now.
It was late.
Kate had driven across Alberta and halfway back in one day. Shed uncovered more about Vanessas case and relived a nightmare. She was exhausted, anguished and now that more human remains had been found in Rampart, even more fearful that the woods around the barn had become Vanessas grave.
Kate pushed the thought from her mind as she drove, noticing how fast the sky had darkened after the sun set in the mountains. Her loneliness grew in the twilight but it left her when she stopped at a diner in Banff. Shed managed to reach Grace before Nancy put her to bed. The sound of her daughters voice as she told Kate about her day was soothing.
I hope you can get me a present from Canada, Mom.
Later, while preparing to leave the diner, Kate received a text from Chuck, which launched a terse exchange.
We need to talk over the phone in the am.
OK. What time? she responded.
Eight. Well call you.
We?
Reeka and Ben will be on the call.
This was serious. Ben Sussman was an executive editor.
Im in Alberta. Ill send you my hotel number.
Alberta?
Yes.
Fine. Thatll be 6 a.m. your time.
Kate drove the rest of the way to Calgary grappling with a million concerns. Youre tired. Youre not thinking clearly.
Besides, so much was out of her control.
At the hotel shed put in a wake-up call then went to bed plagued with terrifying dreams of a woman burning alive in a blazing barn; a hand rising from the river; all to the melody of E-I-E-I-O, until a phone started ringing and ringing.
Someone should answer it. Why doesnt somebody get that phone?
Kate opened her eyes to a torpid fog and answered her wake-up call.
She showered, made strong coffee, got dressed, went online and scoured news sites for the latest on Rampart. The case was attracting national attention. Bloomberg, Reuters and the Associated Press had all moved new stories on the mystery surrounding the discovery in Rampart and speculation there were more victims.
Kate had checked the status of her morning return flight when her room phone rang.
It was Chuck, on speaker with Ben and Reeka.
They got right to it.
Theres a major news conference in Rampart tomorrow morning, Chuck said. Were getting beat on this story. We need to own it. Wed like you to send us all you know on the case ASAP. We need an exclusive hook. Ray Stone will write a setup piece today and Michelle Martin from our Syracuse bureau will go to Rampart and cover the conference.
No.
No? Chuck muttered something, then said, Are you refusing?
Yes.
Insubordination given your situation puts you on thin ice, Kate.
Kate, Ben Sussman here. Why are you refusing?
I want the story.
I understand your personal interest, Sussman said, concerning your sisters tragedy, and our hearts go out to you. But, as you know, to put you on the story violates our policy. Youd be using your position for personal gain, which is what got you into trouble in the first place.
What personal gain? Our job as journalists is to seek the truth. As far as my sisters concerned, thats what Im doing, seeking the truth about her. Id be serving readers.
Kate, its not that simple, Chuck said.
Hear me out. You all know that weve had staff produce work, good work, in which they used their position for personal gain. Our feature writer in Atlanta wrote about her daughters terminal illness and cracks in the insurance system. One of our financial writers did a first-person series about how his relatives were victims of subprime mortgages. I could give you other examples.
You make a valid argument, Sussman said. But your case is a bit more complicated.
Thats right, Reeka said. Kate, the distinction with your case is that you broke the law and could still be charged for trespassing on a crime scene.
They had her against the ropes and had hammered her with the truth.
She didnt know what to say.
A long silence passed before Chuck said, Kate?
Its funny, she said. Im nearly fired for using my position for what you deem personal gain, when Newslead is leaning on me to use my position for its corporate gain. Do you see the irony in that?
The fact is, Kate, Reeka said, the police could bring those charges back on you at any time.
Kate shut her eyes and felt Vanessas hand slip from hers, saw it shooting up from the river, saw it disappearing.
Yes, she said. Im guilty of trespassing on a crime scene and taking pictures, but Ill give you some context. For twenty years Ive lived with the guilt of my sisters death. For twenty years Ive lived with the fact that her body was never found. Then Rampart police call me, telling me theyve found a necklace at a crime scene identical to one my sister had. Can you imagine for one second what goes through your mind? Yes, I was overwhelmed, yes, I broke the law. Im human and that was my mistake, but keeping me off this story, especially now, will be your mistake, because no one is going to give more to it than me. Ill go full tilt for you. So you can keep me off the story, you can fire me for insubordination. Ill go to AP, Bloomberg and Reuters. Maybe theyll be interested in what Ive found out on my own up here. Being journalists, Im surprised you didnt ask.