“Good to know, Bailey.”
Before we hung up, he offered his initial impressions of Bogotá and told me that his Spanish was proving better than he thought. We said goodbye, and he promised to call me the next chance he had.
In the hour before I needed to leave for the press conference, I perused additional local coverage of Page and Amy’s disappearance on the Albany-area TV station websites—nothing there that I didn’t know already—and tracked down a number for Amy’s friend Kayla, which turned out to be easy enough. On LinkedIn, there was a Kayla Underwood working as an assistant manager at a car dealership in the town of Queensbury, just north of Glens Falls. It had to be the same woman. When I called and asked for her, I was told she was off that day but would be working tomorrow, starting at ten.
“Can I get a cell number for her?” I asked. That’s one of the things I loved about tracking down people in sales. They never minded having their cell numbers disclosed because they didn’t want to miss out on any opportunities. Two seconds later the guy read it off.
When I tried the number, it went straight to voice mail. “Hey, Kayla, my name’s Bailey Weggins,” I said in my best chick-eager-to-purchase-a-new-vehicle tone. “The dealership gave me your number. Can you call me? I’d love to connect today.”
At four thirty I slipped on a jacket, locked the room, and headed south to Dot’s. I was on the early side, but I wanted to meander through the crowd before Killian took the podium and eyeball who had congregated at the scene. If the killer had indeed observed me talking to Tom Nolan at the volunteer center, he might show up again here today.
It turned out things were already buzzing when I pulled into the lot, and I managed to snag a decent parking spot. The TV vans from the Albany area had been joined by ones from Syracuse, Rochester, and Binghamton.
I made my way toward the front of the ice cream shop. There had to be at least forty people outside, a mix of local residents and members of the press. I could feel the change in vibe from the previous two days. Though the earlier mood had been sober, it had been tinged nonetheless with a can-do spirit, as if the volunteers truly believed that if they looked hard enough and tacked up a zillion flyers, they could bring Shannon home safely. Today, a pall hung over the scene.
Once I was closer, I was able to see into Dot’s. Hank Coulter was there, huddled with a small group that included Kelly and Doug, as well as Tom Nolan. No sign of Cody. Of course, if Shannon was indeed one of the victims, Cody had probably chosen to stay home with his kids.
“My, my, haven’twebeen busy,” a voice said behind me.I turned to find Matt Wong, with a natty red scarf knotted around his neck.
“What do you mean?” I said, deciding to play it neutral.
“Well, if you’re going to be coy, I guess I’ll have to be, too.”
“Suit yourself, Matt.” I started to move off.
“Off to meet your buddy Cagney?”
“Huh?”
“The Cagney to your Lacey.”
“Ha-ha.” I gave him my back and walked away. Clearly one of his local sources had alerted him to the fact that Alice and I had played a role in the morning’s discovery.
For the next few minutes I wove through the quickly expanding crowd, keeping an eye out for anyone who seemed weirdly entranced with the goings-on, or, on the other hand, too detached. No one fit the bill, but a couple of times I had the fiercest sense that someone’s eyes were on my back. Each time I’d turn, though, I didn’t catch a soul looking my way.
Finally I neared the front and caught sight of Alice, again in her car coat and crocheted hat. She shot me a wry smile that seemed to say, “You doing okay?” “Can you believe this zoo?” and “Let’s talk later,” all in unison. I flashed her back a look that I hope translated as, “Yes, yes, and yes.”
After locating a decent spot to stand in, I pulled a pen and notebook from my bag. The sky was overcast, and a gusty breeze whipped people’s hair into their faces and sent papers scurrying across the parking lot.
At four minutes to five, the sheriff’s SUV arrived. Killianstepped out with a deputy, headed into Dot’s, and emerged a few minutes later with Kelly, her husband, and Tom Nolan. All of them were bleak faced, and Doug was gripping Kelly’s elbow. I had little doubt what that signified.
Killian strode toward the podium, where a dozen microphones were bunched together today. Before he could speak, the wind sent one of the Missing flyers skittering across the pavement of the parking lot until it plastered itself ominously against the podium’s wood base. My phone buzzed in my purse, and I saw to my dismay that it was Kayla Underwood. I had no choice but to send the call to voice mail.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you for your attention,” Killian said, his voice as somber as a graveyard. “I have some significant developments to share with you today.
“Earlier this morning, the sheriff’s office was called to a building on the banks of Lake George, near the hamlet of Sunset Bay. The building was once part of a complex called the Sunset Bay Retreat Center but was abandoned for use eleven years ago. Shannon Blaine’s remains were found in the basement of that building.”
The crowd let out a collective gasp, and I felt my stomach clutch. As sure as I’d felt that it was Shannon we’d found, it didn’t make the truth any easier to digest.
“The remains were located, by the way, thanks to the efforts of two reporters, one of whom received an anonymous tip. We are, of course, investigating.”
More gasping, this time accompanied by lots of head swiveling. I stared straight ahead toward the podium, avoiding eye contact with other reporters. I didn’t want anyone to guess it was me until I could send off my post this evening.
“At this point, neither the cause nor time of death have been determined,” Killian continued, ignoring the hands shooting up everywhere. “This is early stages still, and the investigation is unfolding. We wish to offer our heartfelt condolences to Shannon Blaine’s family... and before I continue, I want to give Kelly Claiborne the chance to say a few words.”
Kelly unhitched herself from her husband’s grip and exchanged spots with Killian.
“On behalf of Shannon’s entire family,” she said, clearly doing her best to keep her voice steady. “I want to thank everyone for their efforts this week. The reward we were offering will now go to anyone with information that leads to the arrest of the monster who killed my sister.”
