The Devil's Closet (11 page)

The familiar flash of blinding pain shot through his head, as it usually did when his mind was whipped into a frenzy. Far enough away from the house, he pulled off into a small clearing just to the right of the road. Leaving the car running, he opened the door and got out, both hands holding his head before falling to his knees.

“Noooooo!” he yelled.

He thought his head would explode right there, the pain unbearable.

“Little Jack Horner sat in a corner, little Jack Horner sat in a corner,” he began to sing, relief flooding through him as the pain subsided. “LITTLE JACK HORNER SAT IN A CORNER!”

He sang the familiar rhyme that his father used to sing several more times before the pain went away completely. Soaked with sweat and trembling, he got back into his car and shoved his face close to the air-conditioning vents. He intentionally kept his mind blank until he calmed down. The pains were getting worse, he knew that, and it was all because of Gallagher.

He needed to see Elsa. She was the only one who could comfort him when the pain came. She knew just what to say, her voice calm and soothing while she gently ran her fingers through his hair as his head lay on her lap. Throwing the car into gear, he pulled back onto the road and headed for home.

“Naomi?”

“Yes?” She raised her head and looked embarrassed, while grabbing a handful of tissues off of her desk.

I shut the door. “Naomi, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, CeeCee, just having a bad day. Don’t worry about it.” She sobbed again and blew her nose.

I was a little concerned. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I’ll be fine, really, thanks,” she said before continuing to cry, putting her hands over her face.

I didn’t know much about her personal life except she’d been married twice and that she didn’t have kids. Last I knew, she had been dating one of our county prosecutors, but I didn’t think it was that serious. Somehow, I didn’t think this episode was work related.

“Naomi, really, you’re a mess. Why don’t you let me take you home. There’s nothing for any of us to do here today anyway,” I suggested quietly. “Do you want me to call someone for you? Any friends?”

She looked at me through swollen eyes and with undisguised contempt. “I don’t have any friends, CeeCee. I’m not like you!”

Waves of guilt and sympathy hit. I always knew she looked up to me, but I never paid attention to how lonely she might have been because I was always too busy criticizing her for everything she did. I could change that right now, and I would. Besides, I had plenty of time before committing my own crime, and it was good to have something to distract me from the whole Michael and Eric fiasco.

“Come on. I’m taking you home, whether you like it or not. You don’t want these guys to see you like this.”

She looked up, knowing full well I was right. Though she was a captain, she got little respect from her subordinates as it was, and having people see her now would only make things worse. Later, I could come back and get the car from the impound lot. I grabbed Naomi’s purse, briefcase, and box of tissues for the ride home, and helped lock up her office.

She continued to cry in the car and I couldn’t help asking if someone she knew died. All she did was shake her head. She remained quiet until we got to her apartment.

Once inside, I sat her down in her living room, got a bottle of wine out of her refrigerator, and poured both of us a glass. It was a few more minutes before she got herself together, and I waited patiently before I spoke. I wanted to be very careful of what I said.

“Naomi.” I paused, thinking of how I was going to phrase what I meant. “I know we’ve had our problems, but I think you need to talk to someone right now. I’m a good listener, and trust is something you never have to worry about with me.”

She waited a while before finally unloading, and unload she did. It was, as I suspected, personal. She was no longer seeing the prosecutor, hadn’t been for a while. In fact, she had gotten involved with someone else, never coming out with a name, who she thought was the love of her life. Their love was something she’d never experienced before, even during her marriages. Earlier today, he broke it off and she was clearly devastated. For a brief moment I felt a surge of anxiety, thinking she was talking about Michael. That is, until she told me this next useful piece of information.

“CeeCee, I know you won’t think much of me for this, but,” she paused, “he, he’s married, and has decided to stay with his wife. She never knew.” Naomi downed her glass of wine. “He swore he loved me and was leaving her.”

The crying began again and all I could do was hand her a tissue. “Naomi, I am the
last
person in the world to judge anybody. I’m certainly no angel either. You know Eric and I were both married to other people when we met, and Mi—” I caught myself before I said Michael’s name.

She quit crying and looked at me intently. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am,” I said, knowing full well she meant Michael.

She nodded, and we sat there quietly drinking more wine, deep in our own thoughts. She never told me her boyfriend’s name, and I didn’t tell her everything about Eric and Michael, but it felt good to have someone to confide in. She had been seeing her boyfriend for almost a year, hanging on to the hope he would be with her in the end. Now, on top of feeling like her heart was broken in half, she felt like a fool.

We talked a little longer and when I was confident she wouldn’t eat the end of her gun, I got up to leave. We promised to make every effort to get together more off duty. I felt like a breakthrough had been accomplished with Naomi, and it truly made me happy.

By the time I started driving, it was getting dark. I headed home to gather the things I needed for tonight, checking any missed calls on the way.

I had left my cell phone in the car so I could give my undivided attention to Naomi. Michael had left two messages, so I immediately called him back. He answered on the first ring.

When I told him I’d been with Naomi, he was quite surprised. Before he asked what she and I talked about, I beat him to it and asked him why he called. It seemed the agents had talked to a neighbor of Albert Whitfield’s who gave them information along with the names of boys they should talk to. To make a long story short, it appeared that Albert was molesting neighborhood boys as young as ten.

“That still doesn’t make him a child killer, Michael. Besides, these are boys, not girls, we’re talking about.”

“There’s a small chance that Emily Yoder could still be alive, CeeCee. Her family hasn’t gotten a shoe in the mail like the others.”

“She’s dead, Michael. You know that, and you also know Albert Whitfield isn’t the one who did it.”

He tried to convince me they were right, but it sounded more to me that he was trying to convince himself. He knew the FBI was wrong, but just wouldn’t admit it. When Michael asked me where I was going now, I told him the truth—I was going home. I heard him sigh into the phone.

“Stay with me tonight, CeeCee, please? I miss you. I feel like I haven’t seen you in days.”

“I can’t, Michael. There’s something important I need to take care of. I’m sorry.”

If I didn’t have a burglary to commit tonight, I probably would’ve run to Michael’s room. I missed him that much, too. I knew soon I would be faced with the same decision I had to make last year—if he or Eric didn’t make it for me. My avoidance, and not necessarily my feelings, was going to determine my fate. When I got home, Eric was sleeping. Since he had the SWAT call-out today, he didn’t have a chance to sleep much before work tonight. I grabbed the black utility pants and shirt, called BDUs, we wore for riots, along with some other things. It was similar to a SWAT outfit. Out of the biohazard emergency kit that I kept at home, I grabbed a pair of cloth foot covers and nylon gloves. I grabbed the black head cover Eric sometimes wore when he rode his motorcycle, then left to go back to the department to get a car from the impound lot.

The inconspicuous dark blue four-door sedan was perfect. I put a lock-picking set and a flashlight in the trunk, along with a crowbar that I hoped I wouldn’t have to use. A crowbar left evidence.

Once I was on Carl Malone’s street, I turned the headlights off, continued driving past his house, and parked four houses down. Like before, there was still was no car in the driveway. There weren’t any house lights on either. I had already decided that if Carl was there, I would wait and break in after he went to bed. It looked like I was in luck.

Grabbing my equipment from the trunk and shoving it into a black bag, I headed for the backyards so I could come up on the house from the rear. First I tried the doors and windows, all of which were locked. I knew he had no alarm system because I’d looked for one when I went by earlier today. I chose the back aluminum door to pick the lock on. It took less than thirty seconds.

I checked the house first, just to make sure no one was there. Satisfied the place was empty, I was able to relax and look around. Carl’s house was neat as a pin, decorated nicely, but not overly done. I spent an hour going through drawers, rooms, cupboards, closets, and every place I could think of, neatly so he would never know I was there. I found nothing of interest.

Carl Malone owned properties and rented them out. There were five properties total, and I wrote down each address, along with the name on the lease. I looked for something I could use to imprint each key so I could get copies made, but there was nothing. A bar of soap would work, but all Carl had on hand was liquid soap.

Back in my car, I felt let down. The trip had been wasted. I now believed that had I asked, Carl would’ve probably let me into his house and openly volunteered information about his properties. But it was just as well. I didn’t have time to be wrong right now. Tomorrow I would call the city utilities department to see which names were on the bill at each address.

I was about ten minutes from the department, eager to switch cars, get home, and sleep until next month when luck fell upon me. I was rammed so hard from behind that it felt like I was going to go through the front windshield. All I could see in my rearview mirror was bright headlights. Getting rammed a second time, I almost went off the road.

I didn’t have any choice but to call for help, even though I would have to come up with one hell of an explanation as to what I was doing. I grabbed my portable radio, which was nestled between the driver’s and passenger’s seat. I wanted to monitor where the patrol cars were when I broke into Carl’s house, and also to see if anyone saw me and called it in. I never imagined I would need it to put out an officer-in-trouble call, but that’s what I did.

I gave my location, car description, and direction of travel, telling the other officers I was being rammed by a vehicle that I couldn’t describe. An officer said he was less than thirty seconds from my location, a piece of information I was thrilled to hear. If I was able to keep my car on the road that long.

I spoke too soon. I was rammed yet again, this time hard enough to send me spiraling into a tree along the side of the road. Just before I was hit, I got a quick glimpse of a large dark pickup truck speeding past. Thankfully, I wasn’t going fast enough that any real damage was done. I wasn’t hurt at all. But I was very rattled and quite shaky.

By the time I got out of the car, there were probably twenty cruisers surrounding me. It was time for the shifts to switch over, and it looked as if the entire night shift ran out of roll call to get here, Eric and my dad included.

The best lie I could tell was that the sheriff had personally asked me to stake out a public official, someone I could not name due to the sensitive nature of the investigation, which explained my clothing and the impound car. No one even questioned it. I gave the truck description as best I could so the patrol cars could drive around and try to find it, though I knew they wouldn’t. I was waiting for the tow truck to take the car back to the impound lot when I realized Jordan wasn’t with Eric.

“Where’s your rookie?”

“She called in sick tonight.”

“Oh.” As much as I tried to keep my mouth shut, I just couldn’t do it. “Herpes flare up again, did they?”

This angered Eric. “That’s nice, CeeCee. Very adult. I’ll see you in the morning.” He stormed away.

I knew I shouldn’t have said something like that. I’ve long since given up hope that tact would be at the top of my behavioral priority list.

It didn’t take long before Michael heard what happened. I had already gotten into my own car back at the department and was driving home when he called. It wasn’t worth bothering to ask how he found out.

“Do you want to tell me what the hell you were doing tonight?”

I gave him my stakeout-of-a-politician story which, of course, he didn’t believe, but I stuck to it. I hung up just as I pulled into my driveway. It was very clear that the person who ran me off the road tonight was the same one who’d been murdering small children. It all had to be connected to Carl Malone or his renters, most likely the latter. I didn’t take any chances. I had my gun in hand when I walked to my front door.

After a quick shower, I finally went to bed and slept for six hours, the most sleep I’d had in days. I woke when Eric got home and got into bed with me.

I had been in such a deep sleep that I didn’t realize what he was doing until we were already making love. I certainly couldn’t stop in the middle and profess my love for Michael; this was my husband, whom I also loved. Or so I thought. Eric and I didn’t say a word to each other afterward.

The minute Michael laid eyes on me when I got to work, he would know. I tried everything I could to avoid him, but he tracked me down in the crime lab while I was going over old test results.

“Good morning.” His voice was flat.

“Michael.” I evaded his gaze. “I’ll be a little while if you want to go on up to my office.”

“That’s not necessary. I was just there. I wanted to let you know that a lovely little bouquet of flowers your husband sent is sitting on your desk. Oh, how silly. I almost forgot—the note was quite sweet. He wanted to thank you for this morning.” His voice raised three octaves at the end of the sentence.

Stunned, I looked up at him. His nostrils were flared and his face was a deep scarlet.

Eric had set me up once more, and as always, I never saw it coming. Frankly, I was crushed. He’d only made love to me for one reason: so he could let Michael know about it.

“Michael, you don’t understand….”

Michael wasn’t hurt, he was downright livid. He grabbed my arm and pulled me out in the hallway.

“Tell me the truth! Did you sleep with Eric this morning?”

“Michael, I was asleep and—”

“Yes or no, goddamn it! I don’t want your fucking excuses, just tell me the truth.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Fine.” He looked at me with pure hatred. “I’m done.” He began to walk away.

“Michael!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, loud enough that he stopped, turned around, and looked at me with surprise.

“You are
not
done until you let me explain!” I was still yelling. “Don’t do this!” On the verge of sheer panic, I started shaking.

I was terrified he was going to walk away again, but he approached me, his face still red and angry.

“Michael, please…” I pleaded, my eyes beginning to water. “I was sound asleep when Eric got home this morning. I wasn’t even quite sure what was going on when he started to, well, you know, but I didn’t say anything. I thought maybe he was trying to smooth things over between us. I was confused but, again, I didn’t say anything. Michael, please, now I realize he did this just to hurt you, and me!”

He didn’t seem too impressed by anything I had to say at this point, though he was beginning to calm down. It had hit me like a lightning bolt and I knew, from that very moment on, I didn’t want to lose Michael, no matter what. I gave him a promise that I had no idea if I would be able to keep, but I wasn’t in any condition to think clearly.

I grabbed the front of his shirt and found myself crying. “Michael, I love you. I’ve never been so scared in my life of losing someone and I didn’t know for sure until now. I’m telling Eric I want a divorce. I need to be with you.”

Strangely, he appeared somewhat stunned. I don’t think he ever imagined it truly was possible we would be together. And I couldn’t believe I just promised him something like that either. I know I blurted it out in the heat of the moment, but how irrational was it? He took a step back and looked at me like I just sprouted horns.

“You don’t mean that, you’re upset.”

“Yes, I do mean it. I’ll tell him tonight.”

He didn’t say a word, but just stared at me. I thought he was getting ready to tell me it was too late, so I beat him to the punch. I started to walk away, still sobbing, before he came from behind and wrapped his arms around me. I felt him push his face into the back of my hair. He was breathing hard and holding me tightly. When he turned me around, I saw his own eyes were watery.

“CeeCee, I don’t know what to say. I saw those flowers and it was like someone lit a fuse. Every day I think about you with Eric and all at once, I’d just had enough. But now I can’t take it all in, that you truly want to be with me. Is that final? You need to really think about a decision this important.”

“Yes, it’s all very true.”

Michael actually picked me up off the ground while he kissed me, then a huge smile broke out on his face.

“You have no idea how happy I am right now.”

“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.”

After returning to my office, even though I knew I was committed to Michael, I realized I wasn’t 100 percent positive that a divorce was what I wanted. I was pretty sure Eric and I were headed in that direction, but I didn’t expect it this quickly. Perhaps all of us needed time to understand that a divorce was going to happen. No doubt he had gone too far with the flowers. This wasn’t the Eric I married, nor was he the one I wanted to stay married to.

For some inexplicable reason, I needed to get Eric back at his own game and take out my anger at him in some idiotic, juvenile way. With the note still attached, I took the elevator down to the female locker room, and set the flowers in front of Jordan Miller’s locker.