Full Tilt. Rick Mofina

you suspending me?”

      “No, you’re taking time off with pay. I’ve approved it.”

      Chuck signaled an end to the meeting.

      “We have counseling services available, if you need it.” Morris clicked his pen and closed his notebook.

      “I suggest you look into that, Kate. It’s for the best,” Reeka said.

      They walked out of the room, leaving Kate alone with Chuck.

      Several beats after the door had closed she turned to him.

      “What happened?”

      “You lost control in Rampart, Kate. The organization will not tolerate that. I cautioned you before you went there to avoid any conflict. You were on your own and could not represent yourself as a Newslead reporter.”

      “Yes, but the indication my sister had been there was so strong.”

      “You’ve followed similar leads over the years and unfortunately each one has dead-ended. Didn’t you tell me that yourself, Kate?”

      “I know, Chuck, but this time it’s different.”

      “I appreciate what you’re going through. Take time off, for your own peace of mind. See how your Rampart lead plays out, but if you pursue this, for God’s sake, do it on your own. Is that understood?”

      Kate nodded.

      “Listen,” Chuck added, “the rumors of more layoffs looming may come true. We’re not breaking big stories. We’re losing subscribers. Everyone’s on edge.” He ran a hand over his face. “Kate, you’re a good reporter, an asset to the company.”

      “Thank you.”

      “Morris had your termination papers in his notebook. Reeka wanted you fired. I put a stop to that.”

12

      New York City

      Kate was still reeling when she returned to her empty apartment.

      She splashed warm water on her face, then buried it into a towel as a million thoughts swirled through her mind.

       I was that close to being fired.

      She shut her eyes tight, then opened them.

       Thank God, Chuck had my back.

      And the rumors of layoffs were true.

       If I’d lost my job... Calm down.

      She had a nest egg, built from the freelance pieces she’d done, like the big one for Vanity Fair on the Dallas story. And, because of her sublet deal and having gotten rid of her car, she’d saved more money.

       Grace and I have been through hard times before—we’ll make it.

      Eclipsing everything was the reality that Kate had never been this close to finding out what had happened to her sister. She had to use these next two weeks to go full throttle in her search for the truth.

       I’m forgetting something. What am I forgetting?

      Her phone started ringing. She went to her bedroom and answered it.

      “Kate, Ed Brennan in Rampart.”

      Her anger rose before she could think.

      “I want my necklace back, Ed. And when you’re done with my sister’s necklace I want it, too.”

      “Hold on there—everything’s still under investigation. I’m calling to update you because you should be among the first to know.”

      “First to know what?”

      “We’ve confirmed the identity of the deceased female.”

      Kate’s stomach tensed and she gripped the phone tighter.

      “Is it Vanessa?”

      “No. I’m sorry. The victim’s name is Bethany Ann Wynn from Hartford, Connecticut. Identification was confirmed through dental records. She’d been missing for three years. Her age at death was twenty-two.”

      Vanessa would’ve been twenty-six.

      For a long moment Kate didn’t know what to say.

      “I’m sorry for Bethany Wynn’s family. Do they know?”

      “They’ve been informed and we’ve just posted a news release.”

      “What does this mean for the situation with my sister?”

      “I can’t answer that at this time.”

      “But how did Bethany come to be at that barn, Ed?”

      “I’m not going to answer that or speculate.”

      “And how did my sister’s necklace get to the scene?”

      “We still haven’t confirmed if the necklace belonged to your sister.”

      “Come on.”

      “It’s being processed. Look, we still have a lot of work to do.”

      “Well, who’s Carl Nelson?”

      “We still haven’t confirmed the identity of the deceased male.”

      “What do you think went on at that barn?”

      “Kate.”

      “What about the cause of the fire? Was it intentional?”

      “Kate, I’m not getting into any of this. I’ve told you, respectfully, to back off and let us do our job. Because you’ve helped us, I’ll update you on a need-to-know basis, that’s it. I have to go.”

      Kate sat on the corner of her bed.

      Her eyes went around her room as she processed the development. She was saddened by the news, heartbroken for the victim’s family, but what had happened only raised more questions.

      Who was Bethany Ann Wynn and how did she get from Hartford, Connecticut, to Upstate New York? Moreover, who was Carl Nelson?

      The best thing she could do now was get to work.

      Kate switched on her tablet, went to the Rampart PD site for the press release. It was brief and she latched on to the key facts about Bethany.

      At the age of nineteen, she was reported missing from the Tumbling Hills Mall in the Hartford suburb of Upper North Meadows, after completing her evening shift as a part-time manager at The New England Cookie Emporium. At the time of her disappearance she was last seen leaving the mall to take a bus home.

      Kate collected those facts, then, like a prospector, she mined the internet for more information on Bethany’s background.

      Scrutinizing older news stories and anniversary features, Bethany Ann’s short life emerged. She was the daughter of James and Rachel Wynn. James was the owner of a tow-truck company. Rachel was a school nurse. Bethany was a junior at Albert River College, studying veterinarian medicine. She had a younger sister, Polly, and at the time of her disappearance, a German shepherd named Tex.

      Bethany had had a happy, stable life with a loving family. No indication of depression, drug use, bullying, boyfriend trouble, or any other reason to run off. No mention of Carl Nelson or a connection to Rampart. There was speculation of abduction, although security cameras at the stop Bethany took were not working and no witnesses had stepped forward.

      Photos of Bethany showed a pretty girl with a bright smile and hope in her eyes. Kate scrutinized each picture for any jewelry she wore but found nothing resembling the angel necklace.

      Kate thought for a moment, then found a home telephone number for the Wynn