were checking Beth’s dental records. It gave us hope that maybe they found her and—” His voice broke. “And that somehow maybe she was alive. But, deep down, we knew. I’m sorry. I’m not thinking too clearly. It’s been real hard on all of us. God, I remember holding her when she was a baby. I’m her godfather. This family’s seen a lot of pain these past few years, a lot of pain.”
“Sir, I’m so sorry to intrude. I’ll let you take care of things.”
“Wait, there’s something. I do remember Rachel saying that one of our detectives here who’d been working on Beth’s case said the guys in Rampart were fearful there may be other victims.”
“Other victims?”
“Yes, and that maybe they just hadn’t found them all yet.”
New York City
Kate stood in her kitchen feeling horrible for having intruded on Bethany’s grieving family.
But she’d had to make that call. So much was at stake.
As tendrils of steam rose from her kettle she searched them for answers. Bethany’s uncle—Lord, I never got his name—had been kind to her and she weighed what he’d revealed about the case.
There may be other victims...they just hadn’t found them all yet.
Other victims.
It changed everything.
Kate had thought there was only one female victim. This helped explain why Brennan was so guarded. His case was more than a murder-suicide.
What really happened at that barn by the cemetery? Who was Carl Nelson?
The kettle’s whistle pierced the air like a scream.
Kate made raspberry tea, returned to her desk and her online digging, intent on finding more on Nelson. She regretted that she’d missed the chance to talk to people in Rampart about him and considered going back.
Maybe she’d do some phone work?
First she’d check Rampart news sites for any updates. The Rampart Examiner’s latest item was short, naming Bethany Ann Wynn as the female victim but offering no confirmation of the deceased male. The investigation was continuing. The region’s TV news and radio stations were reporting the same, as were news sites in Hartford.
Kate then checked her email.
She’d set up an alert for anything posted online on the case to be sent to her. She’d received more stories from Rampart and Hartford, but they contained nothing she didn’t already know.
I’m forgetting something—what is it? Wait—it’s the pictures!
Suddenly she’d remembered how she’d slid the tiny memory card with photos from the Rampart crime scene into her sock. Kate rushed to the hamper in the bathroom, rifled through the clothes, finding the socks she’d worn, shaking them until the little square fell to the floor.
How did I forget this?
Kate returned to the kitchen, inserted the card in her camera then connected the cable to her computer, downloaded the images and opened them. They showed the jumble of charred lumber, an array of protruding trestles and beams. On sections that were not burned she noticed markings, like messages cut into the wood.
Kate enlarged the image but the area was blurred. She opened another photo, one that was crisper. As she zoomed in, carved words swam into focus and she read “I am Tara Dawn Mae. My name used to be—”
It ended there.
What is that?
After studying the words for several moments, she wrote them down in her notebook. Had they been scratched in the wood earlier, prior to the deaths by somebody joking around, like some sort of graffiti? But it was not the usual obscenity or put-down.
Was it evidence?
It had been tagged for processing by the forensic cops.
I am Tara Dawn Mae. My name used to be—
Was this an unfinished message from one of the victims?
Kate immediately searched the name online.
In seconds, the results matching her query appeared, offering pages of headlines and excerpts that stunned her:
Canada’s Cold Case files...
Tara Dawn Mae was last seen at a truck stop...never seen again...
Royal Canadian Mounted Police—MISSING...
Tara Dawn Mae was 10 years old when she vanished from...
Brooks Prairie Journal—Mystery Disappearance Haunts...
It has been twelve years since the disappearance of Tara Dawn Mae, and neighbors in the tiny farming community try to remember...
FIND THE MISSING KIDS
Tara Dawn Mae. Age at time of disappearance: 10. Eyes: Brown...
Kate continued searching, finding a police summary of the case.
Tara Dawn MAE Cold Case Files
Location: Brooks, Alberta, Canada
On July 7, 2000, Tara Dawn MAE was ten years of age and living with her parents, Barton Mae and Fiona Mae, on their farm near Brooks, Alberta. After shopping for groceries in Brooks, the family stopped at the Grand Horizon Plaza, a large and busy truck stop along the Trans-Canada Highway.
While Barton purchased gas for the family pickup truck, Fiona and Tara entered the facility to use the restroom. While browsing the food court and gift shop, Tara got separated from her mother and was never seen again.
An exhaustive investigation has failed to yield any leads as to Tara Dawn MAE’s location or details as to her disappearance.
Kate then found a webpage showing several photographs of Tara. There she was smiling in a full-face shot. Next, a formal head-and-shoulders school portrait, and then Tara with a puppy and laughing.
Tara looks so much like Vanessa.
Deep in a corner of Kate’s heart, something cracked, a thin ray of hope emerged and she blinked back her tears. She needed to know more about this case and how it was connected to Rampart.
Kate reached for her phone and called Anne Kelly, with the New York office of the Children’s Searchlight Network. Anne alerted Fred Byfield, one of the group’s investigators.
“I’ll get in touch with our sister networks in Canada,” Fred said after listening
