Cold Fear (13 page)

NINETEEN

In the task
force room, while the
investigators awaited Doug Baker’s arrival, Inspector Walt Sydowski reviewed
Frank Zander’s approach to go hard on Emily Baker, then have Tracy Bowman pick
up the pieces.

“You are pushing the right buttons, but--”

“But what?”

“I think you need leverage before going any harder. We
have nothing but disturbing circumstances. Things are not always what they
seem. We need something physical, irrefutable. The father’s wound might be a
start, or finding the ax.”

Zander hated being second-guessed. He glared at
Sydowski, on the verge of snapping at him, but chose to hold his words.

“Well, I for one do not approve of this approach,” Elsie
Temple, the park’s superintendent, peered at Zander over her glasses. “Why put
the Bakers through this? It serves nothing. I think you should wait until you
have evidence of a crime.”

“And your opinion is based on how many criminal
investigations, Ms. Temple?” Zander shot at her, causing her face to redden.
“We’ve seen what happened in Yellowstone when people waited until they tripped
over the evidence.”

“Agent Zander, it just appears--”

“Ms. Temple, a liar tells a tale a thousand ways. The
more distance you get from the crime, the more opportunity for the suspects to
fortify themselves. From what we know of the San Francisco information, it
appears Emily has already lied about stress in her family and receiving
counseling before the trip. There is the domestic call, Doug Baker’s wound, the
absence of his ax. You rarely get the truth the first time around. If you
collect statements while aggressively searching for physical evidence that
contradicts the family’s account of things, then your case strengthens.”

“And if you are wrong?” Temple said.

“Then it’s a price I’ll gladly pay, considering the
alternative,” Zander said. “If we are wrong, then hopefully the Bakers get
their daughter back alive and well. But if Paige Baker has been harmed and we
have bungled so badly that no one answers for it, consider the legacy. Not
something you will feature with pictures on the lovely brochures for your
pretty park, is it?”

Temple
jaw dropped. “How do you
live with yourself?”

Zander did not answer her. Instead, he took a call
advising the task force that Mr. Ropa had arrived.

Bobby Ropa was wearing a New York Giants T-shirt and
faded Levis. Looked to be in his early thirties and in good shape. First thing
he did after introducing himself to the investigators was produce his NYPD
blue-crested shield.

Zander seated Ropa, professionally reminding him about
confidentiality; then got down to business.

“You looking at the dad?” Ropa said, eager to help.

“We’re talking to everybody, looking at everything.”

“You should look hard at the dad.”

“Tell us about your information,” Zander said.

Ropa recounted how his family was coming out of Grizzly
Tooth, along a twisting part of the trail, when they heard voices carrying loud
and clear.

“This family, the Bakers from the news pictures, it was
them. They had stopped for lunch in a clearing but were arguing.”

Ropa explained how quiet it can get up there and how
they heard much of the argument before they came up on the Bakers.

“First thing I picked up was the girl, Paige, upset,
says she thinks she knows why her parents brought her to the mountains. Then
her old man says, tell us. The girl figures her parents are divorcing because
of her mother’s problems, that she’s got to choose a parent to live with.

“The mother denies it, and the kid is crying. The mother
says it is complicated. We kind of round a bend and come up on them, in time to
see the old man explode. Big time. It all goes down fast.

“He demands the mother tell them ‘exactly what the hell
is going on with you!’ She starts wailing and he screams at her that he is sick
and tired ‘of this veneer. This pretense of a happy family’. He blames it all
on the mother.

“We’re just stunned, like we’re watching a play. Street
theater.

“She gets hysterical, accusing him of thinking she’s
‘wigged out,’ dragging them all to the mountains for some inexplicable reason.
The kid gets into it, threatens to run off a mountain because of the parents.
The mother answers her with something like, ‘Don’t ever say that.’

“That’s when I step in with, you know, ‘Everything okay
there?’ The old man gets cool fast, switching it off as I eyeball him. He makes
a joke, a little first-day stress, or something. I see he’s got an ax, a small
hatchet, hanging from his pack. I ask them if they have bear spray, because we spotted
a Grizzly sow with cubs in a meadow by a river a day or so earlier.

“Then I see they got a dog concealed in one of the
packs, against park regs. Part of the family, the father says, could not leave
home without him.

About then I marshal my family out of there. It was a
weird scene. We see nothing more until the news hits that the father reports
the daughter lost.

“The way I figure it, we saw their fireworks display the
day before she vanished. I don’t know what to make of it. Don’t know what else
you got, but this thing--she smells to me.”

None of the task force members spoke for the longest
time as they ingested the new disturbing information from Robert L. Ropa,
detective first grade with the NYPD’s 67th Precinct in Brooklyn.

TWENTY

Worry
gnawed at the pit of Doug
Baker’s empty stomach as he scanned the forests from their campsite command
post.

Radios broadcasted reports and instructions between the
planes and helicopters overhead, the search teams scouring the high country and
the scores of rangers and now FBI agents ferried in to help.

So far, they found no trace of Paige.

Doug’s fear for her was like a leaden cloak enshrouding
him, weighing him down, exhausting him. How long could she survive? Now, Emily
was with the FBI. It all seemed out of control since police arrived. The way
they never let them help search, the way they always watched them, kept from
being alone.

“…We’ll take you in separately….”

The tone of that remark implied so much. The FBI knew
something. Doug felt it in his gut. They suspected a crime. Something. There
was that other family. Or maybe strangers on the trail. What did they know? He
had to do something. Anything. He was supposed to wait here until Emily
returned and they sent for him. But Doug was tired of waiting. It was time to
do something.

“Excuse me,” he said to the nearest FBI agent. “Could
you find out if my wife is still at the command center or on her way back?”

The agent made a radio inquiry.

“She’s still there, sir, but they say we can take you
there now.” He indicated a helicopter whose pilot was climbing into the
cockpit, engaging the ignition.

The helicopter rattled, making its landing approach over
the command center. Like Emily had been, Doug was astonished by the scene
below, the news crews, satellite trucks, the dizzying scale of the operation
geared to finding Paige. Some fifty feet from the ground, Doug saw the banks of
news cameras aimed on the landing pad from behind yellow police tape, just as
the voice of the young FBI agent alerted him to it.

“Sir, we advise you not to talk to the press at this
stage.”

“Why not?” Doug was growing more resentful of being
controlled.

“Better to first coordinate with all the agencies, when
we know more. So we’re all on the same page.”

Doug swallowed hard. The
agencies
had failed to
turn up anything or offer much hope.
It’s time we took control.
He
searched the scene for his wife as his chopper touched down.

Emily recognized Doug in the cockpit of the descending
chopper.

“There’s Doug,” she said, leaving Bowman in the FBI SUV.

“No! Please wait!” Bowman said to the slamming door.
Damn.

Emily hurried to the edge of the helipad, waiting for
Doug as he crouched until clearing the rotors, taking her tenderly in his arms.

More than three dozen news cameras recorded the scene,
pulling in tight to catch the fear, exhaustion in their faces: Emily’s
anguished beauty, Doug, haggard but handsome. The image of the well-groomed
middle-class couple trapped in torment would become a touchstone for the nation
gripped by the drama of a ten-year-old child facing death in an American
paradise.

“Doug! Emily! Please talk to us!” Reporters shouted over
the chopper, which was lifting off. Bowman and the male agent were tugging at
the Bakers.

Doug stopped in his tracks, considering the request.

“This way, Doug, please,” Bowman had his arm. “They’re
waiting to talk to you inside.”

Doug ignored Bowman and searched Emily’s glistening
eyes. “I think we should make a statement to the press, Emily.”

“I don’t know what I would say.”

“We’ll speak from the heart. Let’s go.”

“Sir, I would not advise--” the male FBI agent was cut
off.

“Doug, it would be best if you spoke with all the
officials first.” Bowman did not want a scene in front of the cameras and
realized it was futile. Doug put a protective arm around Emily and approached
the press line. The chopper was gone, underscoring the quiet, and the pack
began murmuring over cell phones to newsroom across the USA.

“Grab the air! Go live! It’s the parents. Right, first
time they’ve spoken!”

Bowman rushed into the private joint forces room and
alerted Zander and the others, who were wrapping up their interview with Bobby
Ropa.

“You try to stop them, Bowman?” Zander fired.

“Yes, Doug refused.”

Zander was scanning the networks, finding one with the
BREAKING NEWS graphic, then cutting to Doug and Emily Baker, embracing,
standing before a cluster of microphones less than one yard away.

“Why not stop it?” Ropa asked.

“Too late now,” Zander said, picking up the nearest
phone and ordering the event recorded. “I’m not sure we want to,” he said,
watching the TV as if contemplating a chess move.

Different questions were called out simultaneously. Doug
took the ones he could pick up.

“Please share with us your thoughts at this point.”

“We came here as a family. We’ll leave here as a family.
We will not go home without her,” Doug said.

“Emily, has Paige ever run away?”

“No. Never.”

“Does she have wilderness training or experience?”

“No,” Emily replied, “this was her first outing.”

“It rained after her first night. The temperatures are
expected to plummet tonight, which will mark over forty, maybe close to
forty-eight, hours for her alone in some of the most dangerous terrain in the
nation. What are officials telling you her chances are, Doug?”

“It’s serious. We are well aware this is a life and
death situation for our daughter, but we are praying. We will not give up
hope.”

Emily joined in. “Paige is an intelligent child, she has
her dog, Kobee with her--”

“What breed, ma’am?”

“Beagle. We’re told that will give her some
psychological comfort and a source of warmth. She had a sweater, some food.”
Emily’s voice began to break. “She has our hearts, our prayers….”

“Mr. Baker, there’ve been reports your daughter used the
Internet. Has the FBI indicated any suspicions of an abduction scenario that
may be a line of investigation here?”

“Yes, we’re aware of that possibility also and
understand they are examining every potential aspect, but primarily the
thinking is Paige wandered from us and became lost. Thank you, I think that is
all we can...”

Is that what the thinking is, Doug? Why don’t you
wave that hand for the cameras
? Zander thought
coolly.

“Sir, sir, just what happened?” Tom Reed asked.

“As I said, we were camping along the remote Grizzly
Tooth Trail and Paige wandered from our campsite--”

“Can’t you please elaborate a little?” Reed persisted.

I like that guy
, Zander
mused.
Yes, Doug, please elaborate a little
.

“We have a meeting with officials, thank you--”

The Bakers turned but were stopped by one last reporter.
It was an older woman from a local newspaper.

“Mr. and Mrs. Baker, do you have any other children?”

“No,” Emily wept, her face crumpling. “She is all we
have in this world.”

Doug comforted her and they headed to the command center.

Nearly a fifth of the nation had witnessed the event.

Zander switched off the set.

“I’ll tell you guys something right now,” Ropa said to
Zander and the others on his way out after watching the Bakers’ press
conference. “That guy on the tube was acting totally different when we came
upon him the day before his daughter disappeared. To me, it’s like they’re two
different guys.”

Ropa left a motel card on the table.

“Call me if you need more. We’re here for a few more
days.”

Zander thanked him, waiting until the door was closed,
before polling the others. “Walt, what’s your read on the press conference?
What do you think Doug’s up to?”

“Hard to say at this point. Could be totally innocent.”

“Pike?”

“Curious that he went to the press before talking to us.
Like maybe he felt he had to do something preemptive.”

Zander nodded.

“Emily tell you anything, Bowman?”

She hesitated, reflecting on Emily’s pretty, pain-filled
face on the TV screen. Her heart breaking for her as she deliberated on how
much of their conversation she should reveal.

“Bowman?” Zander reminded her she was an FBI agent
assisting in an investigation. “Did Emily tell you anything when you were alone
with her?”

“She said she came here to bury the past.”

The others exchanged glances.

“What past?” Zander demanded. “She offer any more on
that?”

“No,” Bowman said.

“Well, what do we have on her background? Walt, the SFPD
was chasing her aunt, right? We need to nail this quickly. What past?”

“I have a strong feeling she wants to tell me about it,”
Bowman said.

“Fly back with her, work on her.” Zander told Bowman to
make notes on everything that Emily told her.

The task force had a few minutes before they interviewed
Doug Baker.

Zander studied his watch, how long did their daughter
have? If she had any time left at all?

“Frank, what’s your take on the news conference?”
Sydowski said.

“I think it’s a cunning, calculated move, if they
committed a crime.”

“How so?”

“If they’re culpable, Doug knows where they are
vulnerable, maybe with Emily talking to us. So he moves, preemptively as you
say, to put his face and Emily’s face out there through the press. Let America
see the image he wants them to see, built up huge credit in the bank of public
opinion. That is vital strategy because it puts us among the forces of evil,
should we go after them. We all know that often cases are not won in courts
based upon evidence but in the press based upon perception.”

“So what do you propose?”

“We’ll keep overturning each stone and give the Baker’s
all the rope they want. If they’re innocent, the rope is tied to nothing. But
if they’re guilty, that rope will tighten. Around their necks.”