construction of confinement rooms, the installation of a generator and a sophisticated use of a coil to steal small amounts of electricity undetected from power lines running nearby. This way Nelson kept a small part of the structure heated in winter.”
Brennan felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Ignoring the call, he clicked on a photograph of Tara Dawn Mae and gave a summary of her fifteen-year-old case out of Brooks, Alberta, Canada.
“Among the evidence at the scene—this message carved into a wooden beam.” Brennan clicked on an enlargement of the carving. “And this item.” He clicked on the necklace. “A couple of things. One, the necklace has been submitted for analysis. We understand that there may have been a million of these charms sold some years ago. We’re working with the FBI and the manufacturer to determine more information on an identity of the owner. It was found at the scene, damaged in the fire. We may have a lead, but the engraving is illegible.”
Brennan continued.
“Two, we’re also working with the RCMP on this aspect of the investigation. If Nelson abducted Tara Dawn Mae, it means he may have held her captive for over fifteen years. Other case histories show that perpetrators have kept their victims for even longer periods, so we don’t know what we’re dealing with here, but what’s emerging is chilling.”
Investigators had a lot of work ahead of them, including processing the scene and looking deeper into Carl Nelson’s background.
“After executing the warrants, we’re combing through Nelson’s credit cards, bank, phone, internet and every other record. No leads have surfaced so far,” Brennan said. “Now, we’ll open this up to questions and feedback.”
“Sounds to me, Ed—” Vern Schilling, a veteran New York State Police investigator, legendary for having one of the NYSP’s highest clearance rates and being a prick to other detectives, adjusted his glasses “—that given Nelson’s professional expertise, he’s a guy who could outsmart you and disappear.”
“Except that we know what he did and I don’t think that was his intention.”
“What do Nelson’s friends and neighbors have to say about him?”
“Not much. We talked to his employer. We know Nelson’s lived in the community for some ten years and that he was quiet, practically socially isolated.”
“Hard to do that in a small town,” Schilling said. “Somebody’s got to know more about him. You need to push harder.”
Brennan caught a look of unease from his lieutenant.
“Did you look into the history of the burial grounds and the old insane asylum?” one of the Riverview County deputies asked. “Maybe Nelson has a connection to it?”
“That’s on our list.”
“What about online, maybe Nelson’s part of a porn production network?”
“The FBI’s helping with that.”
“Ed, why wouldn’t he just shoot the girl, Bethany? Why would he risk her getting free to disclose his activities?” a Rampart detective asked.
“Maybe he did and missed, maybe he was confident the fire would kill her? We don’t know the answer to that one.”
Brennan’s cell phone vibrated again, and again he ignored it, taking more questions before Vern Schilling looked up from his notes.
“Tell me something,” Schilling said. “If Nelson set this up, then vanished, how did he get in and out? Did he have another vehicle? Did he have help, because this is a long way to walk?”
“It’s a good question. We’re checking for other access points and for evidence of other vehicles.”
Brennan went around the table for final questions.
“Your summary here mentions a public appeal for information, as in news conference. When are you planning to do that?” Wade Banner, the FBI agent from Plattsburgh asked.
“Within the next day or so,” Brennan said. “Okay, thank you, everyone.”
“Hold on,” Schilling said. “I’m curious why you didn’t obtain warrants sooner on Nelson’s
Brennan felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Ignoring the call, he clicked on a photograph of Tara Dawn Mae and gave a summary of her fifteen-year-old case out of Brooks, Alberta, Canada.
“Among the evidence at the scene—this message carved into a wooden beam.” Brennan clicked on an enlargement of the carving. “And this item.” He clicked on the necklace. “A couple of things. One, the necklace has been submitted for analysis. We understand that there may have been a million of these charms sold some years ago. We’re working with the FBI and the manufacturer to determine more information on an identity of the owner. It was found at the scene, damaged in the fire. We may have a lead, but the engraving is illegible.”
Brennan continued.
“Two, we’re also working with the RCMP on this aspect of the investigation. If Nelson abducted Tara Dawn Mae, it means he may have held her captive for over fifteen years. Other case histories show that perpetrators have kept their victims for even longer periods, so we don’t know what we’re dealing with here, but what’s emerging is chilling.”
Investigators had a lot of work ahead of them, including processing the scene and looking deeper into Carl Nelson’s background.
“After executing the warrants, we’re combing through Nelson’s credit cards, bank, phone, internet and every other record. No leads have surfaced so far,” Brennan said. “Now, we’ll open this up to questions and feedback.”
“Sounds to me, Ed—” Vern Schilling, a veteran New York State Police investigator, legendary for having one of the NYSP’s highest clearance rates and being a prick to other detectives, adjusted his glasses “—that given Nelson’s professional expertise, he’s a guy who could outsmart you and disappear.”
“Except that we know what he did and I don’t think that was his intention.”
“What do Nelson’s friends and neighbors have to say about him?”
“Not much. We talked to his employer. We know Nelson’s lived in the community for some ten years and that he was quiet, practically socially isolated.”
“Hard to do that in a small town,” Schilling said. “Somebody’s got to know more about him. You need to push harder.”
Brennan caught a look of unease from his lieutenant.
“Did you look into the history of the burial grounds and the old insane asylum?” one of the Riverview County deputies asked. “Maybe Nelson has a connection to it?”
“That’s on our list.”
“What about online, maybe Nelson’s part of a porn production network?”
“The FBI’s helping with that.”
“Ed, why wouldn’t he just shoot the girl, Bethany? Why would he risk her getting free to disclose his activities?” a Rampart detective asked.
“Maybe he did and missed, maybe he was confident the fire would kill her? We don’t know the answer to that one.”
Brennan’s cell phone vibrated again, and again he ignored it, taking more questions before Vern Schilling looked up from his notes.
“Tell me something,” Schilling said. “If Nelson set this up, then vanished, how did he get in and out? Did he have another vehicle? Did he have help, because this is a long way to walk?”
“It’s a good question. We’re checking for other access points and for evidence of other vehicles.”
Brennan went around the table for final questions.
“Your summary here mentions a public appeal for information, as in news conference. When are you planning to do that?” Wade Banner, the FBI agent from Plattsburgh asked.
“Within the next day or so,” Brennan said. “Okay, thank you, everyone.”
“Hold on,” Schilling said. “I’m curious why you didn’t obtain warrants sooner on Nelson’s
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