How many people are we talking?
Forty million.
Brennan ran his hand over his face.
The companys working with the FBI to issue a news release, Dickson said. All retailers and all cardholders will be alerted. Customers will be advised to destroy their cards, retailers will issue new ones.
Small comfort knowing Nelson has everything.
Hes one smart prick, Ed.
Maybe, but sooner or later, hell make a mistake.
Brennans phone rang.
Ed, its Mitch, youd better come out to the scene.
As they drove to the old burial grounds Brennan grappled with his frustrations. That these crimes had been going on for years in his backyard sickened him and he sought assurance in a mantra for investigators.
The suspect has to be lucky at every turn. We need to get lucky once.
So far, Nelsons victims were helping with their killers undoing. Look at Pollard, whod kept his dog tags in his boot so no one would yank them from his neck if he got assaulted. That thwarted Nelsons attempt to stage a murder-suicide. Then the message left by Tara Dawn Mae, and there was the angel charm necklace and its inconclusive link to Kate Page. Everyone on the task force was going all out on this case.
We just need a lead, a solid lead. Entrance to the site through the old cemetery road remained sealed and more Riverview deputies had been posted at other points of the expanded perimeter. The increased magnitude of the case was made manifest by the police encampment that had arisen next to the ruins of the barn.
A mobile double-wide trailer, which served as the command post, had been hauled in on a flatbed and placed near the edge of the property among lines of trucks. An array of equipment, lights, generators, tents and canopies dotted the vast property.
Exhaustive ground searches had been conducted. More dogs were used, along with infrared technology. More aerial photographs were taken. Vapor detectors were brought in. A tube connected to the device was inserted into the ground to detect gasses from decomposition.
Exhaustive ground searches had been conducted. More dogs were used, along with infrared technology. More aerial photographs were taken. Vapor detectors were brought in. A tube connected to the device was inserted into the ground to detect gasses from decomposition.
The entire scene was gridded and sectioned off with string and flags, like an archaeological dig. Forensic archaeologists from universities in Rochester and Syracuse had been requested to join the FBI and state police forensic experts to help.
Section by section, teams undertook the slow, systematic process of removing segments of soil in four-to six-inch layers. Meticulously they sifted it through screens to search for evidence of human remains.
Brennan and Dickson met Mitch Komerick inside the command post. He pulled off the hood on his white coveralls, slipped off his face mask and bent over a large table with unfurled maps.
Whatve we got, Mitch? Brennan leaned over the map with him.
Komerick took a pencil and used the eraser end to tap the primary map of the scene.
More remains.
One more victim?
Not one. Twelve.
Brennans stomach tensed.
Twelve?
Komerick tapped several neatly penciled squares on the map.
Weve confirmed human remains, here, here, here and here. Were just getting started. Ed, this could be one of the biggest cases weve ever seen.
34
New York City
Kate made her way through the crush at Penn Station.
Shed become accustomed to the subway, the urine-scented platforms, the whoosh of foul, inbound air, crowds jostling at the doors, the smells of perfume and the body odor. She was relieved to find a seat. Within seconds, her car was crammed to capacity.
As her train thundered from the station she took out her phone and read stories on Rampart by the Associated Press, Reuters and Bloomberg. Then she read the story shed filed and was satisfied that Newsleads reporting was strongest.
Were still ahead of the competition.
When Kate finished reading, she gazed out her window into the rolling darkness. As tunnel lights flashed by and her car rocked, she grappled with the turmoil broiling inside her.
Twelve more victims.
She could no longer fend off the facts and fears that crept from the darkest fringes to crush her.
Twelve more victims. Surely, Vanessas among the dead.
Its over. Carl Nelson, or whoever he was, had won. The rhythmic clacking of the train hammered it home. Her hope, if it ever really lived, was dead. Her dream of seeing her sister again had slipped awaythe way Vanessas hand had slipped from hers twenty years ago in the icy mountain river.
Kate shut her eyes.
Tears rolled down her face as the trains steel wheels grinded against steel tracks creating a high-pitched scream.
On the way to her building, Kate picked up a pizza, then collected Grace from Nancys apartment.
I saw the latest news. Nancy had lowered her voice to Kate when Grace was down the hall, out of earshot. Its terrible. How much worse can it get?
Kate shrugged.
At home Grace bit into her pizza and, between chews, told Kate about a new boy at school who was annoying all the girls. But Kates attention had drifted. Being with her daughter, Kate felt spears of sunshine piercing her battle-weary heart and tried desperately to hang on to the moment.
Mom, are you listening?
Sorry, sweetie.
I said his name is Devon and all he wants to do is kiss you. Yech!
After their supper Kate went through the motions of their evening routine, cleaning up, then homework for Grace before any computer or TV time. All the while Kate was unable to emerge from the numbness that had filled her. Once she got Grace to bed, she dimmed the lights, opened a bottle of wine and tuned her TV to news channels.
As she listened to commentators and watched footage of the Rampart scene over and over, she became enveloped with loss and the bitter realization that shed been a fool to dream shed find Vanessa. For a time shed convinced herself that she was not only on the trail to the truth about what had happened to Vanessa, but closer to finding her alive and well.
I believed with all my heart Id have my sister back. Kate continued to watch the white-suited forensic experts conducting their work on what was a killing field.
Twelve more victims.
Her phone rang.
Kate, its Nancy.
Hey.
Ive been watching the news coverage and Im worried about you. Are you okay?
No, to be honest, not really.
Ill be right over.
Maybe it was her nursing background but upon arriving, Nancy seemed to know what to do. She turned Kates TV off, turned the lights up, put away the wine and made tea.
All the fights gone out of you, Kate.
She struggled to explain to Nancy how shed felt defeated in the face of the cruel reality that the monster she was pursuing had killed fifteen people.
Its like the earth shifted under my feet.
Nancy thought for a moment before she took Kates hands in hers.
You listen to me. Nancy stared hard into her eyes. Youre not going to curl into a ball and give up. Youre going to pull through this. I guarantee it.
You guarantee it?
Look back on your life. Youve faced every hardship I can think of and youve endured. You have a right to the truth and theres no way youre going to let this creep stop you. Its not in your DNA, Kate. Do you hear me?
Nancy squeezed Kates hands hard.
Do you hear me?
Before she realized it Kate was nodding slowly and her concentration went to a file folder on the table nearby and a photo of Nelson.
You know Im right, Kate.
Kate continued nodding, bigger nods with more confidence. Yes, Nancy is right. Kates eyes were welded to Carl Nelsons. No way are you going to get away with this, you evil son of a bitch. If my sisters dead, or I cant find her, then Ill find you.
35
Lost River State Forest, Minnesota
There it is!
Deep within the thick woods of tamarack and black spruce there were flashes of gray throat and gray breast, of yellow belly.
Careful.
Dan Whitmore was a patient bird-watcher who knew not to be in a hurry to raise the binoculars to his eyes, or to page through the guidebook to identify his subject.
It could vanish on you.
Experience had taught him to focus on the bird, study its shape, its bill, its colors and markings. If the situation allowed, hed lift his binoculars in a smooth, practiced motion while never losing sight of the bird. Then, when it winged away, hed consult the book to identify it.
Dan watched for several minutes before finally looking through his binoculars. He was rewarded with a long, gorgeous view before the bird took flight.
That was a Great Crested Flycatcher. Dan turned to his partner, Vivian Chambers, whod flipped through the guide and nodded.
Yes, it had beautiful primaries.
Thats six more today, Viv.
Dan noted the sighting, confident hed hit five hundred on his life list by the time their trip ended.
Lets go over there, Vivian said, near the edge of that bog. It looks like a great spot for owls.
Dan, a doctor, had retired from his family practice in Omaha fifteen years ago. He and Vivian, a retired elementary school principal, lived alone in the same condo complex. Each had lost a spouse and after meeting through one of Omahas birder clubs theyd become partners.
Theyd gone out on many group outings but for the past five years, upon discovering how much theyd enjoyed each others company, theyd traveled alone together to different parts of the country to look at birds. Birding had given them a sense of order, and their relationship had helped them survive some of the hardest times of their lives. Their mutual understanding and respect for what theyd both endured had grown into a nurturing, healing kind of love. They counted their blessings and birds as they journeyed along the back roads together.
This section of the park bordered Manitoba and was the most isolated. It was dense with white cedar, jack pine and aspen trees. There were thickets of willow and alder. The hiking trails were rugged, but Dan and Vivian often ventured wherever the birds led them. As they neared the fringes of the peat bog, Vivian grabbed Dans arm and stopped.
Listen, she said.
Birdsong filtered through the distant trees.
Tzeet. Kip. Tzeet kip.
It repeated in a harsh, sputtering series.
Thats a kingbird. I recognize that from my CDs, Dan said.
Eastern or Western?
Could be either, given our location.