A Kate Page novel

“Ms. Page, I understand but—”

“No, I’m sorry, you don’t understand. For twenty years I’ve lived with being told my sister was dead. But her body was never found and I’ve refused to give up hoping that she’d 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. I’ve cooperated with you guys. I’ve given you my necklace, my DNA, yet you, just like Brennan, throw up your hands with the I can’t discuss the case, it’s an ongoing investigation when we all know that it’s the ghost of my sister that’s tying this all together for you!”

Owen repositioned his pen as his jawline pulsed.

“Since we’re being blunt, allow me to give you a little context, Ms. Page. It’s my understanding that you have charges pending against you in Rampart for trespassing on a crime scene, possibly tampering or planting evidence?”

“Oh, for God’s 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, I’m sure you can appreciate that it’s 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 it’d 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 visitor’s pass for her identification.

“Safe travels, Ms. Page.” Owen shook her hand.

In her car, Kate was still simmering from the exchange.

Before she’d left New York for Alberta, she’d made other calls. She paged through her notes for other people who’d agreed to talk to her.

Sheri Young was a neighbor of Barton and Fiona Mae at the time of Tara Dawn’s disappearance. Then there were Eileen and Norbert Ingram, who now owned the Maes’ former house. And the Children’s 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.

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