Cold Fear (11 page)

FIFTEEN

Community
Building #215,
originally a school house built in 1923, is a green frame hall
found among the government compound buildings in the shade of lodgepole pine at
Glacier National Park’s headquarters.

Used primarily for fire-rescue exercises, staff meetings
and social functions, it was now the command center in the search for Paige
Baker.

The wooden walls of its large meeting room were papered
with huge, detailed maps of the park, dotted with colored locator pins. Large
tables were covered with radio chargers, new phone lines, fax machines,
photocopiers, computers, TV monitors and VCRs, all for the operation.

Inspector Walt Sydowski arrived shortly after dawn
watching it fill with local, state, and federal authorities. He was met by FBI
agents and taken to the criminal investigative section, which was hidden within
the massive operation. Known only to a few officials, the specially formed
secret joint forces unit was headed by the FBI. It had one aim: to investigate
the disappearance of Paige Baker as if she were the victim of a criminal act.

Its operations were set up out of sight, in a storage
room where Sydowski had not yet seated himself at a table to await the unit’s
first meeting when the door opened.

“Inspector Sydowski,” a young male FBI Agent said
softly. “You have a call, sir. You can take it in here. And I’ve been advised
that Agent Zander will be here momentarily to convene a briefing with all team
members. He and Agent Bowman are en route from the command post.”

Sydowski nodded his thanks and picked up the land line
phone, noticing a number of other senior ice-cold police-type men in jeans and
casual shirts taking seats at the meeting table, studying files. Sydowski
nodded a hello to them as he took his call.

“Hi Walt, it’s Linda. Been up all night, I’ve got some
stuff.”

Sydowski sat down to make notes on his clipboard.

“First off Walt, you got a fax there?”

He saw a machine and got its number from the young
agent.

Turgeon took it down, continuing.

“Emily Baker is a professional photographer. Has her own
studio. No charges, convictions or warrants. Not even a traffic violation.
Nothing much on her family. She has an aunt in San Francisco who is on vacation
in Eastern Canada with her husband. The feebees have a line to the RCMP, who
put them on the tourist alert.”

“Hope you reach them before the press does. What about
the domestic call to SFPD?”

“Pulled tapes from dispatch, had them transcribed. I am
faxing that to you along with the summary from the responding unit. Trying to
hook up with the officers who took the call and the neighbor who made the
complaint. No charges, convictions or warrants for Doug Baker either. He’s an
ex-marine. Honorable discharge, a high school teacher, football coach at
Beecher Lowe in the Richmond District. Very respected.”

“That it for now?”

“Talked to one of Doug’s teacher friends late last
night. Seems Doug confided to him there was stress in the Baker family that he
refused to elaborate on, only to say that his wife was receiving psychological
counseling and that they
needed
to go to Montana.”

“Why did they
need
to go?”

“He didn’t know.”

“Or wouldn’t tell you. Know who the shrink is?”

The word “shrink” prompted one of the cop strangers to
look from his file as if Walt had found a key to the case.

“Not yet,” Turgeon said.

“Go back on that friend,” Sydowski said. “Also find out
if Paige talked about her family with any little friends; try to get some
profile on her. What has she been telling other kids, that sort of thing.
Time’s working against us.”

“I am working full throttle on all of that--damn, Walt,
what is that?”

A helicopter hammered the morning air overhead, sounding
as if it was about to crash through the roof.

“I think my briefing’s about to begin here, Linda. I’ll
take your information to the meeting. Talk to you later.”

The helicopter landing outside
made conversation impossible. A gray-haired man stared at Sydowski and passed
him his card:

LLOYD
TURNER FBI SPECIAL AGENT IN CHARGE OF SALT LAKE CITY DIVISION.

Turner was the boss here. Sydowski received other cards
from other agents under Turner. Then Park Superintendent Elsie Temple arrived,
accompanied by Nora Lam, legal counsel from the U.S. Justice Department, and
several local officials.

The helicopter subsided and within minutes more people
entered, led by Special Agent Frank Zander, followed by Agent Tracy Bowman, and
Pike Thornton, law enforcement officer with the park.

Zander, who was carrying a file folder, acknowledged the
FBI brass. He shut the door, took his place at the head of the table and
control.

“I am Agent Frank Zander, the case agent in this matter.
Park rangers received a report approximately fifteen hundred hours yesterday by
Doug Baker that his ten-year-old daughter, Paige Baker, got lost in Grizzly
Tooth Trail, some twenty-four hours previous to his contacting help. The Baker
family was on a camping trip in the Devil’s Grasp region. By all estimates, the
girl has been lost for about forty-three hours. We will not waste time. Before
we go further, I’ll go around the table, make sure everyone present should be
here.”

Introductions went fast. Satisfied, Zander then stressed
the critical need for confidentiality of the aim of the task force. “Our
objective is to rule out foul play or lay the foundation for prosecution,”
Zander said.

“Why?” Park Superintendent Elsie Temple was upset.
“Could it be we’re moving too fast here? Can’t we let the search run its
course? It all seems pretty circumstantial to me.”

“I believe we are proceeding responsibly, given the
facts Ms. Temple,” Turner said.

“Which are?”

Zander supplied them.

“Doug Baker has a very bad wound on his left hand. He
said he injured it chopping firewood with an ax, which appears to be missing.
Both he and his wife, Emily, were evasive when asked about the emotional state
and details of their daughter before she vanished with her dog. Both parents
state they did not see her. A few days prior to departing for their trip here,
the San Francisco Police Department was called to the Baker home after a
neighbor reported a violent family argument. When that complaint was
investigated by the SFPD, Emily Baker dismissed it as a misunderstanding. Last
night, at the command post, Emily Baker screamed into the night, ‘You can’t
have her. Oh God it is all my fault’. We are just beginning to assemble résumés
on the parents.”

“I do not like this approach to build something against
the family at this stage. I’ll say it again, it still seems pretty
circumstantial,” Temple said.

“Excuse me, Superintendent Temple, there is more,”
Sydowski was looking at his fresh notes. “This is unconfirmed, but late last
night Inspector Linda Turgeon of the SFPD Homicide Detail learned that Doug
Baker had recently told a friend there was stress in the Baker family. Emily
Baker was receiving psychological counseling and apparently the family
had
to come
to Montana, for reasons unknown to us.”

Temple
weighed the information,
while Turner reasoned.

“Ms. Temple, given these factors, it would be
irresponsible if we did not act quickly to confidentially probe the background
of the family and the circumstances under which the child disappeared, in the
possible tragic event that criminal intent is confirmed.”

Temple
placed her face in her
hands.

“This is just terrible. Horrible.”

“It is possible there was an accident and they are
trying to cover it up,” Zander said.

“It is also possible Paige Baker wandered off and has
become lost, like her parents have told us,” Bowman said.

Zander dismissed her comment by looking at his watch.

“Time is working against us. Weather could destroy a
crime scene or damage physical evidence that would either support what the
parents say or contradict it. And we cannot rule out any possibility.

“The Evidence Response Team should be here shortly,”
Turner said.

Zander nodded.

“Bowman, you will escort Emily Baker here straight away.
We’ll conduct an interview for more details from her, then we’ll bring in the
father. We’ll likely request a polygraph very soon.”

Zander noticed the concern in the eyes of Nora Lam, the
Justice Department lawyer. “At some early point you will have to Mirandize
them,” Lam said.

“Of course.”

A message came from an agent at the door. It was passed
to Zander. His face creased. A Mr. Ropa was holding on the phone with
information on the case of Paige Baker.

“I’ll take it here,” Zander said. “You have
information?”

“I do. My family encountered the Baker family on Grizzly
Tooth the day before she disappeared.”

“What’s your name?”

“Ropa. Bobby Ropa, R-O-P-A.”

“What sort of information do you have?”

“We saw her family having a terrible argument the day
before she vanished. They looked like a family imploding. It was not good.”

Zander immediately shuffled through the small stack of
permits until he found one for Ropa. Address was Brooklyn. As if the accent
didn’t give it away. “Where you from Mr. Ropa?”

“New York. We’re here on vacation. Look, I’ll come in
and give you a statement. You’re at the command center?”

“That’s right.”

“We’re in the north, but we’ll be there as soon as we
can.”

Calling in was the right thing to do, Bobby told Lori
after hustling everybody into their rented Explorer, driving off to the center.
In his experience as a New York cop, Bobby knew how an isolated tip, even a
crumb of mundane information, could be the lynchpin in a complex case.

“Joey, try to remember everything you saw, heard and
felt about that girl’s family we met in the backcountry the other day.”

A C-130 rolled overhead.

“I think it would be hard to forget, Dad.”

Lori saw Bobby’s jaw muscles bunching the way they did
when he was working on a case. She knew her husband was on the job now. Their
vacation ended the instant they came upon that girl’s family and saw what they
saw. Then came the news story and the search for her. Lori wished with all her
heart Bobby was wrong, but he was a good cop. She worried about Joey. What if
this turned into something and he had to pick somebody out of a lineup, or
testify, or hear details? She stopped herself. The places your brain takes you
as a wife to the NYPD.

They left the Icefields Highway for the narrow
fifty-mile ribbon of asphalt named Going-to-the-Sun Road. It slithered east to
west, severing the huge park in two. It bordered mountain lakes, passed through
clouds, necklaced sheer rock faces as it followed a breathtaking roller-coaster
route, clinging to cliff edges that dropped so suddenly your stomach quivered.

The entire drive Bobby kept running his hand over his
chin, his mouth. It dawned on Lori what he was really thinking.

“Bobby, tell me you are not thinking those parents--”

“I should have done something. I should have said
something.” Bobby slammed his fist on the steering wheel. “I should have jumped
in his freaking face. If this goes bad, I’ll never forgive my--”

“Bobby!”

He slammed the truck’s brakes in time to avert a
collision with the back end of a slow-moving car. Lori said nothing. Bobby took
a deep breath.

SIXTEEN

Zander
entered the investigation
room, setting his clipboard on the table.

“Are we all set over there? Confirm with two knocks,” he
said aloud.

Two knocks sounded on the wall.

The FBI had equipped the room with a tiny powerful
microphone in the overhead lighting system and a hidden camera lens near a wall
poster of the park.

Only Zander, Bowman, Sydowski and Thornton would be
present for interviews with the Bakers. The others would observe from the
second adjoining room. Before she left, Nora Lam had taken Zander just outside
of microphone range and cautioned him.

“You know you cannot use anything unless you Mirandize
her?”

“And you know I won’t get anything if I do.”

“You drop the ball here, Agent Zander, and you have no
case.”

“Ms. Lam, if I do not talk to her, we have no way of
knowing if we have a case.”

“I’m just letting you know you’re on thin ice here.”

“All part of my job.”

They saw Bowman approaching with Emily, who had emerged
with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She had scrubbed her face in an
attempt to freshen up, but her reddened eyes and sniffles betrayed her anguish
as she was directed to a chair at the table.

“Emily, you’ve met everyone here, except Walt Sydowski,
with the San Francisco Police.”

“Hello, Mrs. Baker,” Sydowski extended his big hand.
Emily took it and nodded. Zander sat across from her, Bowman to her left, with
Sydowski sitting a non-threatening distance away at one end of the table and Thornton at the other. All had notebooks and file folders, the contents of which Emily
could not see.

“We have juice, muffins, tea, coffee, fruit?” Bowman
offered.

“No thanks.”

All of them wore dead serious faces. Sydowksi looked
very familiar to her, but she could not place him. Why was someone here from
the San Francisco Police Department? She was so confused, so tired.

“Emily, as you know, everything is being done to find
Paige,” Zander said.

She nodded.

“And as we told you, we’re part of a team whose job is
to make sure we’ve not only searched everywhere but looked at all the
possibilities that could help us find her.”

Emily nodded.

“We’d just like to get a clear a picture of how she
became lost, maybe we missed something. Will you help us with all you
remember?”

“Of course.” Her voice was weak.

“Tell us what happened that morning.”

“We were going to stay at the campsite. I decided I
would go off by myself to the ridge, ahead on the trail. Paige was picking
flowers near the campsite. Doug was gathering firewood and was going to read, I
think.”

“What were you going to do on the ridge?”

“Just meditate, take pictures.”

“So you went alone?”

“Yes.”

“Down the ridge, about one hundred yards from your
camp?”

She nodded.

“Could you see or hear your campsite from there? See or
hear Doug and Paige talking? Hear the dog if it barked?”

“No, it was too far and wooded.”

“How long were you gone?”

“A couple of hours. Three, maybe four.”

“In that time, did you see anyone, any other hikers,
anyone?”

Emily shook her head.

“What was Paige’s state of mind when you left?”

Emily looked at her empty hands on the table in front of
her. “She might have been scared,” Emily sniffed. “Oh God.”

Bowman put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s OK.”

“Doug and I quarreled along the trail the day before.
Just stupid husband-and-wife stuff about how long we should hike in the park.
We were all tired and stressed from the flight and rushing from San Francisco to get here. But Emily thought the quarrel was serious. She thought we were
getting a divorce.”

“Are you?”

“No.” Emily sniffed; Bowman passed her a tissue.

Zander surveyed the others with glances.

“If Paige were upset, why would you leave her?”

Tears rolled down her face. “I was upset too. I wanted
to be alone. I was upset with Doug.” Then weakly she added, “Myself.”

“Was there stress in your family before and during the
trip?”

Emily nodded.

“Tell us about it.”

“Like I said, just normal suburban-living crap. Doug’s
job, my job. We could not decide where to go on vacation. Doug wanted Paris.
I wanted the mountains, you know, get away from everything, take pictures,
recharge. Paige wanted Paris, too. She had never hiked before. I thought it
would be good for her to get away from all cities, know that there is more to
life than the mall and the Internet. We decided on the Mountains at the last
minute. Sort of rushed out here. But the trip became a disaster with us
arguing. Just stupid family arguing and we hurt Paige with it.”

“What do you mean?”

Emily put her crumpled fists to her mouth and closed her
eyes tight.

“I think she got mad at us. Ran off on purpose to be
alone too, not knowing the danger. Then got lost. Got really lost. Oh God. It’s
my fault. It’s all my fault!” Emily covered her face with her hands.

“It’s OK.” Bowman comforted her as a helicopter rattled
overhead.

Zander noticed Thornton and Sydowski touching up their
notes. When the noise outside subsided, Zander continued.

“You work as a photographer?”

“Yes I have my own studio. I freelance. I’ve been busy.”

“And Doug, he’s a teacher?”

“Beecher Lowe High School. He teaches English and
coaches football.”

“What was Doug’s state of mind when you left alone to
meditate?”

“He was upset too, at me and everything.”

“Just arguing and stuff?”

Emily nodded.

“And you think it forced Paige to run away?”

“Yes.”

“Has she ever run away before?”

“No.”

“Would you say there was additional stress in your
family prior to the trip?”

Emily thought for a long time. Zander repeated the
question.

She shook her head.

“No career problems, money problems, marital problems?”

She shook her head.

“Are you or Doug under a doctor’s care, taking any
medication?”

“No,” Emily’s tone signaled that she was becoming
offended by some of Zander’s questions.

“No psychiatric care?”

“No, I usually talk to my friends about personal
problems.”

“Emily, did you meet anyone in the park who seemed
unusually friendly to Paige, or your family?”

“No.”

“Paige was familiar with the Internet?”

“Yes. She chatted with friends about clothes, movies,
music.”

“Is it conceivable Paige could have arranged a secret
meeting here with a friend she met on the Internet?”

“I don’t know, we monitor her fairly closely. We have
filters.”

“Since arriving, do you recall any incidents along the
way, any altercations, or anyone that may have followed you here to settle a
score?”

She shook her head.

“Is there anyone in San Francisco who might want to harm
your family or hurt Paige, anyone who has upset her?”

“No. Nothing like that. Not that we know I--you think it
is possible she was abducted from us? Do you know something? Oh God--” Emily
sniffed.

“We don’t know anything like that. We have no evidence
of anything, nothing to indicate that anyone has harmed Paige. Emily, we’re
just trying to learn everything, every aspect of the circumstances before she
got lost.”

“I am so scared. I am so confused. It is all my fault,
don’t you see?”

Zander was silent.

“What kind of mother let’s her child run off into the
mountains?” Emily asked.

Zander let her self-recrimination sit in the air for a
moment.

“Emily what did Doug tell you about Paige’s state of
mind before she got lost?”

She stared at the table, collecting her thoughts.

“He thought she had gone down the trail to be with me,
to join me.”

“Why did he think that?”

“Because she was upset.”

“Upset? How?”

“From our argument; then he hurt his hand chopping
wood.”

“Did you see him hurt his hand?”

“No. When I left Paige was picking flowers or playing
with Kobee in her tent. I am not sure. I was upset.”

“Did Doug have a hurt hand while you were there? Did you
see him injure himself?”

She shook her head. “I told you, no.”

“Do you think other hikers could have come by your
campsite after you left?”

“I did not hear or see anyone.”

“Tell me what happened after you returned to the
campsite, how you discovered she was gone, and what Doug told you and what you
did.”

“I remember at the halfway point back getting this
strange feeling that something was wrong.”

“What kind of feeling?”

“Just a chill or shudder and I stopped. I did not see or
hear anything. It was just a feeling. Mother’s instinct.” She sniffed. “When I
returned, Doug was reading. I asked about Paige. He said he thought she was
with me, then ran down the trail where I had come, looking for her.”

“Did he say what happened?”

“Only what I just told you.”

“Was his hand hurt then?”

“Yes, after I got back.”

“Did he tell you how he hurt his hand?”

“He said from chopping wood, I keep telling you.”

“Then, as far as you know, he was the last person to see
Paige?”

It was as if all sound stopped and the room held its
breath.

Her fists went to her mouth, her eyes glistening,
staring down at nothing. She nodded.

“Emily why did you rush to Montana. Why did you have to
come here?”

She covered her face with her hands and wept.

“Guess what I am going to do.”

Zander leaned forward.

“If there is something you think we should know,” he
said, “it might help if you shared it with us now.”

Emily raised her eyes to Zander’s.

He saw a woman drowning in something dark as the distant
thundering of another helicopter grew louder. Emily sat there, a portrait of
pain, a suspect in her daughter’s disappearance. The helicopter grew more
intense as the four investigators regarded her.

Zander checked his watch. Time was running out.