Until that apparent double had showed up at the baseball game just a few weeks ago. Karinne hadn’t told her father, although she’d checked with the police and filed a report. The intake officer had taken the disk with the digital copies, nodded and merely said he’d “keep them on file.” A plainclothes detective in the same office had been kinder. She’d scanned the last photo the family had of Margot and plugged it into the computer simulation software to “age” the image. She’d even agreed there was a likeness.
“I’ll make sure this gets into our computers,” the detective said. “But your mother’s disappearance was ruled a suicide drowning. I wouldn’t hold out any hope, Ms. Cavanaugh.”
“They never found her body. Could you recommend a private detective?” Karinne had asked.
“We can’t, and even if we could, I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Karinne racked her brain. “I understand the Red Cross is very good at finding missing people. Like those lost in earthquakes or hurricanes.”
“Yes, but we’re talking about recent victims, Ms. Cavanaugh. I know it’s hard for family to give up hope, but it’s been years. If it were me,” the detective had added softly, “I’d let it end right here.”
Karinne tried. Once home, she’d put the disk with the enlargements in her filing cabinet. She’d withdrawn the neatly folded aged photo printout from her purse and tossed it in the trash. But later she dug it out and carefully filed it away. The next day she’d gone to a private detective, who gave her the same advice as the police. He also refused to take the case or her money, and warned her about others who might not be as scrupulous.
Karinne prayed she was overreacting. She decided to let matters rest—until last week. Her father, somewhat obsessed with mortality in his older years, had asked how Karinne would feel if he ever sold the house. The question had shocked her and she’d stuttered, “But th-then…Mom couldn’t f-find us.”
Her father’s surprised reaction and “Karinne, what’s wrong?” prompted her to come clean with him.
“Dad, I’m just not sure what to think,” Karinne said. Reluctantly, feeling somewhat foolish, she showed her father the digital photos, the “aged” picture and the police report she’d filed. To her relief, her father looked and listened; he didn’t laugh. On the old couch, they sat side by side, his arm around her shoulders.
“There is some resemblance,” he agreed. “But your photos aren’t that clear, and your mother’s dead. I wish you’d come to me earlier.”
“I sound crazy, don’t I?”
“No, sweetheart. You sound perfectly normal. You’re an engaged woman who simply wishes her mother could be at her wedding.”
“You think that’s all it is?”
“Yes.” Jeff stroked his daughter’s blond hair. “I’ve been having the same thoughts myself. How Margot would’ve loved shopping for a dress with you. How she’d smile when we walked down the aisle. She loved you so much.” His own eyes grew moist, and he gestured at the printouts in her lap. “Don’t let these ruin your wedding, Karinne. You’ve already postponed it twice because of my health. You and Max have a great future. Your mother will be there in spirit to bless your union.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Karinne and her father hugged, and that had been the end of it—until yesterday, when a package had arrived, the day before she was to leave for the rafting trip. Inside was a hooded pink sweatshirt bearing the words Grand Canyon Village across the front. She assumed the package was from her fiancé.
“Max…” She smiled and looked for a note with his bold handwriting. She shook out the sweatshirt, and a typed note fluttered out, but it wasn’t from Max.
“I want to see you. If you feel the same, wear this on your trip. Love, Mom.”
ALTHOUGH NOT a superstitious woman, Karinne wondered if the goose bumps on her arms meant serious trouble ahead. If she hadn’t wanted to check out the wedding and reception location, she would’ve considered canceling her trip. But that seemed cowardly, and then she’d have to tell Max why. What should she do?
The sweatshirt still lay stuffed inside her dresser drawer. She hadn’t gone back to the police or told anyone about it. There wasn’t much to tell from an evidence point of view. The mailing address was on a label from the canyon’s gift store; it wasn’t hand-printed. There was no return address on the note. Someone was either playing a very sick joke or trying to ruin her peace of mind.
Karinne gave up on neatly arranging her underwear and shoved a handful of panties into the backpack she needed for her trip. The sooner she saw Max, the better she’d feel.
There was a knock at her bedroom door. Her roommate, Anita, Cory’s wife, peeked in when Karinne responded.
With Cory working in northern Arizona and Anita working in central Arizona, the apartment was a weekday home for Anita. She spent weekends at the Grand Canyon with her husband. They’d been married only a year, and Anita had chosen to keep her current job until they could save enough to buy their own home up north.
Karinne envied her friend. She usually spent weekends working sporting events and wasn’t happy with her limited time with Max. After all, they’d been engaged for two long years, yet rarely saw each other. Somehow their wedding kept getting pushed back…. She’d changed the date three times.
“You’re home early. You take a half day off?” Karinne immediately asked.
Anita eyed her backpack. “Packing for your minivacation?” The expression on Anita’s normally cheerful face was drawn.
“I leave tomorrow. What’s up?”
“I got fired.”
“Fired?” Karinne echoed.
“Yes. Can you believe it?”
Karinne shoved aside her backpack, leaving room on the bed for Anita to sit. “What happened? No one in their right mind would fire you.”
“They might as well have. Technically, I got laid off. So did a bunch of others. It could be for months…or for good.” She flopped onto the bed next to Karinne. “I can’t believe it! I mean, management gave us warning, but I’ve been there for five years. The things is, the company’s losing money.”
“Oh, no…”
“Oh, yeah.” Anita worked for a local commuter airline. She’d graduated from college with a degree in accounting and had landed a plum job in the finance department right away, quite an accomplishment for someone with no experience. She’d kept that job after marrying Cory Hunter. Unfortunately, many airlines had suffered serious financial difficulties in light of increased costs and the latest national recession. Several had declared bankruptcy; layoffs had been the norm rather than the exception at Anita’s corporate office.
“I’m so sorry,” Karinne said.
“Maybe you can find me something,” Anita said mournfully. “At least you’re safe. Talk about job security. No one ever downsizes in professional sports.”
Karinne’s job as sports photographer for a consortium was quite secure. Even during recessions, professional baseball and football never lost favor with the public. The Diamondbacks and the Cardinals were her specialty. She’d always been a devoted techie when it came to computers, and her skill as a digital photographer had quickly garnered attention.
The Cavanaugh name was well-known. Despite her youth and the tradition of male photographers in men’s locker rooms, at the team owners’ personal request, Karinne handled much of the workload. Everyone knew her qualifications and could vouch for her get-along-with-everyone character. She concentrated on capturing digital stills of professional athletes in motion, stills that could be sent instantly to media