investigators.
“I’ll get in touch with our sister networks in Canada,” Fred said after listening to Kate. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
Kate continued researching. Again and again she came back to the pictures, haunted by the little girl’s sweet, shy smile, her dark eyes, shining like falling stars.
Could this be Vanessa?
Kate used maps and made some calculations. Their accident happened about ten miles east of Golden, British Columbia, when their car left the highway and crashed into the Kicking Horse River. That was some 270 miles west of Brooks, Alberta, a five-hour drive across the prairie and through the Rocky Mountains.
Vanessa would have been twenty-six now. If Tara Dawn Mae is still alive, as the message in Rampart suggests, she’d be around twenty-five or twenty-six now, as well.
Was it all coincidence?
Kate went back to the crime scene photos.
My name used to be—
What was her other name?
Was Tara Dawn the Maes’ biological child or an adopted child? Kate couldn’t find any divorce records on public sites. Maybe Tara Dawn was a street kid who’d run away and changed her name? It was not uncommon. Kate knew that, from her time on the street. Kids were always running from something.
As she continued working throughout the day she came across an in-depth article done on the third anniversary of the case that stopped her cold. It said that Barton and Fiona Mae had adopted Tara Dawn about three or four years before her disappearance.
Adopted?
Kate’s mind raced.
She tried searching for court records, knowing that they weren’t usually made public, a fact confirmed when she called the clerk’s office for Alberta’s family courts in Edmonton, the capital. Kate was thinking of hiring a Canadian private investigator to help her dig deeper into the case when she realized the time.
She had to pick up Grace from school.
* * *
They’d passed the remainder of the afternoon with Grace coloring a project about the world’s oceans and chatting about her day while Kate got supper ready. Whenever she could, Kate thought about the case. That evening while they were watching
The Wizard of Oz
, Fred Byfield called.
“Kate, I talked with our people in Calgary affiliated with our network and I don’t have a lot more to add.”
“I’ll take anything, even advice.”
Kate patted Grace’s leg and left the sofa to take the call in the kitchen.
“Canadian police still have it listed as a cold case.”
“Yes.”
“No real leads, nothing at all, and both of the parents have since passed away.”
“I didn’t know that about the parents. How’d they die?”
“Accidents, maybe, we’re not sure but did you know that Tara Dawn was adopted?”
“Yeah, I found a magazine piece that mentioned it. Any details on that?”
“I don’t know, and our source in Calgary didn’t know.”
Kate considered the information.
“So what do you make of these factors? Is it Vanessa, Fred?”
“When you add them up—the necklace at the scene, the carved message from Tara Dawn Mae, the dates, ages and the fact they never found Vanessa’s body—they do present a compelling argument that your sister was at the Rampart crime scene.”
“But? I detect a ‘but’ in your tone.”
“But, you know as well as anyone, real life is not like mystery books and thriller movies where it all ties together nicely. Real life is complicated and missing persons cases can be complex. Simple factors that appear to be connected often have explanations proving there is no link whatsoever.”
“Yes, I know.”
“And there’s no DNA from Tara Dawn’s case to compare to yours, at least none that we know of. And we don’t know what Rampart police know, or what they may be telling the RCMP in Alberta about their case. Now you’ve got to decide what you’re going to do next. I think this warrants further investigation and we’ll help you as much as we can.”
“Thanks, Fred.”
Kate returned to the
“I’ll get in touch with our sister networks in Canada,” Fred said after listening to Kate. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
Kate continued researching. Again and again she came back to the pictures, haunted by the little girl’s sweet, shy smile, her dark eyes, shining like falling stars.
Could this be Vanessa?
Kate used maps and made some calculations. Their accident happened about ten miles east of Golden, British Columbia, when their car left the highway and crashed into the Kicking Horse River. That was some 270 miles west of Brooks, Alberta, a five-hour drive across the prairie and through the Rocky Mountains.
Vanessa would have been twenty-six now. If Tara Dawn Mae is still alive, as the message in Rampart suggests, she’d be around twenty-five or twenty-six now, as well.
Was it all coincidence?
Kate went back to the crime scene photos.
My name used to be—
What was her other name?
Was Tara Dawn the Maes’ biological child or an adopted child? Kate couldn’t find any divorce records on public sites. Maybe Tara Dawn was a street kid who’d run away and changed her name? It was not uncommon. Kate knew that, from her time on the street. Kids were always running from something.
As she continued working throughout the day she came across an in-depth article done on the third anniversary of the case that stopped her cold. It said that Barton and Fiona Mae had adopted Tara Dawn about three or four years before her disappearance.
Adopted?
Kate’s mind raced.
She tried searching for court records, knowing that they weren’t usually made public, a fact confirmed when she called the clerk’s office for Alberta’s family courts in Edmonton, the capital. Kate was thinking of hiring a Canadian private investigator to help her dig deeper into the case when she realized the time.
She had to pick up Grace from school.
* * *
They’d passed the remainder of the afternoon with Grace coloring a project about the world’s oceans and chatting about her day while Kate got supper ready. Whenever she could, Kate thought about the case. That evening while they were watching
The Wizard of Oz
, Fred Byfield called.
“Kate, I talked with our people in Calgary affiliated with our network and I don’t have a lot more to add.”
“I’ll take anything, even advice.”
Kate patted Grace’s leg and left the sofa to take the call in the kitchen.
“Canadian police still have it listed as a cold case.”
“Yes.”
“No real leads, nothing at all, and both of the parents have since passed away.”
“I didn’t know that about the parents. How’d they die?”
“Accidents, maybe, we’re not sure but did you know that Tara Dawn was adopted?”
“Yeah, I found a magazine piece that mentioned it. Any details on that?”
“I don’t know, and our source in Calgary didn’t know.”
Kate considered the information.
“So what do you make of these factors? Is it Vanessa, Fred?”
“When you add them up—the necklace at the scene, the carved message from Tara Dawn Mae, the dates, ages and the fact they never found Vanessa’s body—they do present a compelling argument that your sister was at the Rampart crime scene.”
“But? I detect a ‘but’ in your tone.”
“But, you know as well as anyone, real life is not like mystery books and thriller movies where it all ties together nicely. Real life is complicated and missing persons cases can be complex. Simple factors that appear to be connected often have explanations proving there is no link whatsoever.”
“Yes, I know.”
“And there’s no DNA from Tara Dawn’s case to compare to yours, at least none that we know of. And we don’t know what Rampart police know, or what they may be telling the RCMP in Alberta about their case. Now you’ve got to decide what you’re going to do next. I think this warrants further investigation and we’ll help you as much as we can.”
“Thanks, Fred.”
Kate returned to the
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