As Kate related the history of Fiona and Barton Mae, pictures of Tara Dawn were put up next to those of Vanessa, including one where both were wearing the necklace, which had been enlarged in separate photos.
“Unbelievable,” Betty Lynne said. “And a few years later, tragedy struck again when Tara Dawn vanished from the highway truck stop near the Maes’ farm?”
“Yes.”
“And your relentless journalistic digging yielded the lead that pointed to Jerome Fell in Denver, who turned out to be Sorin Zurrn from Chicago, who was living as Carl Nelson in Rampart, New York, and was behind the crimes there, and in Minnesota, according to the FBI.”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell our viewers how you did that?”
As Kate elaborated, she saw a studio crew member flagging Betty Lynne to the time remaining.
“Kate, before we close, do you have anything that you’d like to say?”
“Yes, my sister has been in captivity for at least fifteen years. During that time, she transformed from a girl to a woman. I cannot imagine her nightmare existence. We’re asking if anyone knows anything about this case to call police. Sorin Zurrn, if you’re watching me now…”
Kate’s composure slipped and the camera moved in for a closer shot.
“Sorin, if you’re watching…before you met Vanessa, she’d already suffered more than any child should have to bear. I’ve discovered some things about your life. I know that you suffered, too. You’ve already shown the world by what you’ve done just how smart you are. Show everyone how powerful you really are by giving Vanessa her life back.” Tears rolled down Kate’s face. “Please, I’m begging you, Sorin.”
The show closed the segment in silence and went to commercial.
“Thank you, Kate.” Betty Lynne blinked back tears as crew members came to Kate. One started unclipping her microphone while the makeup woman passed her a tissue.
“That was extremely moving, Kate. Thank you for being on our show,” one of the senior producers said. “We’ll have someone go with you to the car, if you like.”
Before leaving the studio Kate stopped off at a restroom, splashed water on her face. Then she took out her phone and responded to her anonymous message.
Who are you? What information do you have?
An assistant walked Kate to the street where a driver opened the rear door of a polished black sedan. The car service was waiting to take her to Newslead, as had been arranged. Kate got in and buckled up.
As the car pulled into Midtown traffic Kate’s phone rang. It was Grace.
“Hi, sweetie.”
“I saw you on TV, Mom. It made me sad.”
“It made me sad, too.”
“But maybe it will help us find Aunt Vanessa.”
“That’s what we’re praying for. Now, hurry up. Don’t be late for school. We’ll get a pizza tonight if you want, or we can ask Nancy if she’d like to go out somewhere nice with us.”
“Okay, I’ll ask her. I love you, bye.”
“Love you too, bye.”
After the call, Kate searched her messages for a response from her anonymous tipster. There were many messages from friends who’d seen her on Today. Chuck wrote: You did great! While Reeka said: It looked good but not once did they say you worked for Newslead. Kate also received interview requests from USA Today, the Wall Street Journal and ABC News, but nothing from the anonymous messenger.
She searched news sites for updates on the case. Nothing was happening. Watching Manhattan roll by, Kate rested her head on the high-backed seat. These past few days of her life had been a surreal blur. But she couldn’t stop. She had to go full tilt until she found Vanessa.
One way or another I will find you, I swear.
“Miss?”
Kate surfaced from her thoughts to the sounds of the street. They’d arrived. The car was parked in front of the building where Newslead was headquartered. The driver was holding the car door open for her.
“Yes, sorry.” She reached into her bag and her wallet. She put a twenty in the driver’s hand.
Kate stepped toward the entrance but stopped upon seeing a man staring at her. His back was against the building. He had short, slicked-back hair, a stubbled beard, dark glasses and an untucked denim shirt under his leather jacket.
“Viper? I mean, Erich?”
“There’s something you need to see. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 62
New York City
“Yes, I messaged you anonymously when you were on the show,” Erich told Kate as they stood in line for a booth.
“Why so cryptic? You scared me.”
“I had to get your attention and I had to be careful.”
“What do I need to see, Erich?”
“Wait till we sit down.”
They had walked three blocks east to the Wyoming Diner, a classic eatery wrapped in battered chrome-and-blue trim. TVs were suspended at each end of the dining room, where every booth and stool was taken. The midmorning breakfast crowd was still thick with commuters from Penn Station. Ten minutes passed before a spot opened up. Erich ordered whole wheat toast and tomato juice, Kate got a bagel and water.
She welcomed the din of the busy diner. It made it hard to hear and insured a measure of privacy as Erich leaned to Kate.
“Are you familiar with shock sites?”
“That’s where freaks and people with fetishes post gross stuff online.”
“The content is obscene, vulgar and so graphic it’s often illegal.”
“There’re some notorious ones,” Kate said.
Two women at a booth nearby were looking at them and talking. They were too far away to hear through the noise but seemed interested in Kate.
“Some of these sites have their own subcultures,” Erich said. “And in some cases the sites are gateways to others that are far worse.”
“What’re you getting at?”
“I found something alarming on one of them.”
As Erich reached for his phone, a woman materialized at their table. She looked to be in her midfifties.
“Excuse me,” she said to Kate, who, as she turned to the woman, accidentally knocked her bag from her seat to the floor.
“I’ll get that for you,” Erich leaned over and reached under the table to retrieve Kate’s bag.
“Yes?”
