The Devil's Closet (23 page)

I’d have to get used to my new title, which still sounded strange. I pointed toward Coop and Naomi.

“Sheriff, Naomi isn’t doing too good. When are the medical personnel going to be here?”

“Should be soon. Let me get over there.”

He half jogged over to Coop and Naomi. I saw him hold her hand and lean over and talk to her, then he yelled to a group of the uniform officers to get on their radios and tell the ambulances to hurry.

Fortunately, this wasn’t needed as the first team of medical technicians raced in. Everyone was silent as we watched them work on Naomi, getting her stabilized and onto the backboard. It troubled me that a couple of the medics’ faces indicated they weren’t very hopeful. It was only a matter of minutes before four medics and Coop picked up the backboard and started quickly walking toward the Life Flight helicopter, which was already waiting at the trail entrance.

The sheriff signaled to me that he was going with Naomi, and I gave him a thumbs-up. A captain of the police department might die. The sheriff needed to be there.

They weren’t gone for more than five minutes when I heard Alex Phillips’s voice. Brooklyn heard it, too, because her head popped up. She started looking around frantically, before finding her father and mother standing by the uniformed officers who were trying to figure out exactly where she was.

“Daddy! Daddy! Mommy!” She jumped off me and started running to her parents.

They ran to her. Both grabbed her at the same time and fell to their knees, crying and kissing her. I was overcome watching the reunion. This sight was worth everything to all of us. It was the scene I had hoped to watch; a happy ending.

Michael had gotten a blanket from one of the medics and brought it over to me. By now, the effects of the cold water and loss of blood had me shivering and I wrapped the blanket tightly around my body, covering the top of my head like a hood. Alex Phillips came over and crouched down in front of me.

“Detective, I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you enough. I hope you aren’t hurt too badly. What can I do for you?” His eyes were still watery.

“Nothing… really, Commissioner, I’ll be fine.”

He patted my shoulder and walked back to his daughter so they could wait for the other team of medics. They would take Brooklyn first. She was alive, but I’d make a bet that when the hospital examine her they’d find that she had been sexually assaulted. Brave little Brooklyn Phillips would have years of therapy ahead of her.

The rest of the medical personnel arrived at the same time. I wasn’t very happy about being put on a backboard. I would’ve much rather just hopped out on one leg, with Michael for support, but he wouldn’t hear any of my complaints. (It sounded good when I suggested it, but as much pain as I was in, I knew I couldn’t possibly make it out of there standing upright.) I kept myself propped up on my elbows so I could watch where we were going the whole time.

The uniformed officers stayed behind to protect the scene while the crime lab and the coroner’s office made their way back. They were waiting when I was brought off the trail to the ambulance in the parking area. Michael told them that all the injured parties were out and they could go back. My dad was there, looking nervous.

“Dad, you could’ve met me at the hospital instead of driving all the way down here. I’m fine.”

He merely raised his eyebrow at me before noticing Michael. He’d heard the rumors; we all worked at the same department. He gave him a slight nod.

“Dad, I need you to call Eric in North Carolina. Tell him what happened and that’s it’s safe to bring the girls back.”

“I’ll take care of it. Me and Carly will follow the ambulance and meet you at the hospital. I hear Captain Kincaid isn’t doing too well.”

I shook my head. I was worried about Naomi, more so than anything right now. My dad leaned over and kissed my forehead, which was covered with drying blood, before heading back to his car.

My girls were on the other end and they were wonderful. I only said I had fallen down at work and got a bump on my head and hip. Not that they weren’t used to seeing me in the hospital, but the less they knew the better. They were excited to come home. We missed each other so much. When I talked to Eric, he was very concerned and worried, but I reassured him I’d be fine. I hung up with a heavy heart. I knew when they got home we would have to tell the girls that we were divorcing, and I knew how devastated they would be.

Meantime, within fifteen minutes of our arrival at the hospital, Michael had over forty FBI agents going to search Carl Malone’s house and other rentals, while others were checking deep into his personal background.

I waited for over an hour before seeing a doctor and getting taken for x-rays, which not only irritated me, but which made me a less-than-pleasant patient. Two hours later the doctor came back and told me that my left hipbone had been completely shattered and that I would need it replaced entirely.

“What exactly does that mean? How long am I going to be off my feet?” I was entirely too impatient to be laid up for a long period of time; I thought I would go crazy last year when I was in the hospital for three weeks. The doctor said he would schedule me for surgery in the morning and that they would have me up trying to use a walker the next day. He predicted I would be out of the hospital in three days and off work, if all went well, for six to eight weeks. I closed my eyes and groaned.

When he came back in later to stitch up my head I argued with him about that too. He wanted to shave the entire top, but I forbid it. I was still a woman and my hair was most precious to me. Michael stood there and shook his head while my dad yelled at me. I was stubborn and the doctor finally relented. He let me hold a mirror so I could watch him shave a very small area around each head wound.

The cut where Carl smashed me was the worst. It took seventy-two total stitches. It was deep, so they put thirty-six stitches inside the cut and thirty-six out. The other wound required thirty-four stitches on the outside only. A grand total of 106 stitches in my head. Fantastic.

I kept asking Michael to call Cleveland Metro and get an update on Naomi. She was still in surgery, so we didn’t know anything yet. It was about two hours later that Coop finally called. It was rough, but she was going to make it. I breathed a loud sigh of relief.

The right side of her skull had been crushed with a blunt object, a rock probably. The doctors said that none of her brain shifted during the blow, so most likely she wouldn’t suffer any brain damage. Nine of her ribs had been fractured, but none managed to puncture either of her lungs. And lastly, both shoulders were dislocated.

When they arrived at the hospital, her pulse was good and she was breathing on her own, so they didn’t put her on a ventilator. She was only intubated during surgery while they placed a small metal plate in the right side of her head and put her shoulders back into place. The ribs would have to heal on their own. She would be in the intensive care unit for at least two weeks, healing and receiving frequent neurological checks.

The doctors anticipated her being awake and coherent in the morning, but doubted she would remember much, and they estimated she would be off work for three to four months. That is, if she wanted to go back at all. I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t.

After being shot last year, this might well be the last straw for Naomi Kincaid. Regardless, it was all wonderful news. Michael said Coop sounded thrilled on the phone.

“I’ve known Coop for many years, and I’ve never seen him as upset as he was today,” I remarked.

“I know how he feels,” Michael said softly.

He was sitting next to me and holding my hand when my dad walked back into the room. Michael dropped my hand instantly. My dad wasn’t stupid, and I got one of his “looks.” When I was feeling better and all was well with the world, he would have one of his talks with me. No doubt about it. Until then, no use getting aggravated.

“Is it Naomi?” I hoped she hadn’t taken a turn for the worse.

“No.” He pulled a chair next to my bed. “They found where Anna Kovinski’s bones were buried.”

“Where?”

“In Carl Malone’s backyard. There was a hole dug back there, and one of the bones was left in it.”

I thought about the first time I met Carl. He had come from his backyard, dirty and wearing gloves; doing some landscaping. I shuddered.

“That’s not all.”

I didn’t know if I wanted to hear any more. The anesthesia still in my system left me sleepy and with an upset stomach. Each word out of Michael’s mouth made me feel worse.

“I told them to get the cadaver dogs back there, just to be on the safe side, and,” he paused, “they’re digging out the fourth set of bones right now.”

“In the backyard?” I was astonished, and mortified.

“CeeCee, we need to prepare ourselves for a high number of bodies buried in Carl Malone’s backyard. He kept two separate identities for over twenty-five years.”

I shut my eyes tightly. I thought of the countless number of parents who would be getting phone calls over the next several months telling them that the child they’d longed for and prayed for had finally been found. Dead.

Carl Malone was the devil himself with a closet full of sins; sins that we would be digging up and identifying for weeks, if not months. I almost wished he weren’t dead. I would’ve liked to have seen each parent face the man who killed their child, and witness his execution.

“You said he kept those two identities for twenty-five years?”

“At least.” Michael nodded.

Michael went on to tell me the check into Malone’s background was mystifying. It seemed that Carl Malone was an upstanding citizen, salesman of restaurant supplies for the entire Midwest, and one of the best neighbors a person could have.

Jim Carlson, on the other hand, was a vagrant and a drifter with a fascination for children. Carl Malone would go on business trips and prove to be a top salesman, but when the trips ended, he would stay in that city for a week or so disguised as Jim Carlson, letting out his inner demons.

“He was raised in foster homes after his father was arrested for raping him and his younger brother, who subsequently committed suicide fifteen years ago.”

“Where’s the father?”

“Don’t know. When he was released from prison, he disappeared. The mother took off when the boys were little.”

“I’ll bet we find dad buried in the backyard with the others.”

Even though he was dead, I could almost hear Malone laughing and screaming
I beat you all
, exactly like he had at the falls. He had accomplished what he’d set out to do, with the exception of killing the three of us. But I don’t really think he would’ve cared all that much. It was the entire game that got him off, not just me, Naomi and, even, Brooklyn.

“How’s Brooklyn Phillips?”

“Physically she’ll be okay and she’ll be able to have kids when she grows up. The bad news is that he raped her repeatedly, so, emotionally, she’s got a long road ahead of her.”

I was beyond sickened by the innocence that was lost. All of these beautiful little girls had to face the devil. Thinking about it could drive someone crazy. Alex and Jean were just happy their daughter was alive right now, but the repercussions would be lifelong for all of them.

I saw Michael smiling but noticed the look faded quickly as his eyes went toward the doorway. Eric was standing there. Michael quietly excused himself and left the room, he and Eric saying nothing to each other. Eric, like the girls, had a dark, healthy-looking tan. He looked great.

“How are you feeling, CeeCee?” He stood behind our daughters.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks so much for bringing them. You have no idea how much I missed them both.” I was still holding both children, and Isabelle had crawled up onto the bed with me.

“Did you miss
me
?” Eric asked.

I shot him a hard look. I didn’t want him to start anything in front of the girls.

“Mommy, tell Daddy you missed him, too!” Selina pleaded.

“Daddy knows how I feel, honey. It’s so good to see you guys!”

They were with me for about half an hour, Eric remaining quiet, when my dad came back into my room. He had gone home last night and this was the first time he’d been back. The girls, elated to see their beloved grandpa, ran and jumped on him.

“Dad, would you do me a favor and take them down to the cafeteria to get some ice cream?” I asked. He saw Eric looking gloomy and got the hint.

“I guess now’s the time we have to talk, Eric. I’m being released in two days, and we need to figure out some arrangements. I don’t think it’s a good idea that we’re both staying at the house.”

He nodded and rubbed his eyes. “Did you give any thought to counseling?”

I sighed. “No. I don’t think it will work, Eric. I have already called an attorney to get the paperwork going.”

“That was quick. Can’t get to your precious lover fast enough, can you?”

“Don’t start. I’m trying to deal with this calmly and constructively. Listen, I’m not the one who got knocked up.”

He stood up and walked over to the window. This wasn’t going well, and I didn’t know how to make it any better. My throat was tight. My cheeks were soon wet when I thought again about everything we had gone through in the last year. And what was about to happen to us as a family.

“When you come home, I’ll go stay at my parents’.” He still faced the window, his back to me. “For the first couple of days, we’ll just tell the girls I have to work early every night and that’s why I’m not there in the evening. Since I’m on nights and sleep all day, hopefully they won’t notice. When you’re feeling better, we’ll tell them and figure it out from there.”

“That’s fine.” I was quiet, still teary. “Eric, I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry it came to this, I really, truly am.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, “me, too.”

He turned around and walked out of the room. My heart sank and broke at the same time. It was truly over.

I was wiping my eyes with a tissue when my dad brought the girls back in to say good-bye. He didn’t say anything. He knew. I told the girls the bump on my head hurt and it made me cry, but the nurse gave me medicine and I felt better. It was shortly after they all left that Michael came back. He saw my red, puffy eyes and let out a loud sigh.

“Are you going to be okay, Cee?” His face showed concern as he held my hand.

“I will be… eventually.”

Michael had been in the cafeteria having coffee when my dad and girls entered. Isabelle remembered him and told him she was getting ice cream. They all began to chat about who liked what flavor. I smiled.

He thought my dad might confront him about our relationship when the girls were running around the cafeteria out of earshot.

“Do you know what he said to me, CeeCee?”

“I can only imagine.”

“He only said one thing to me. He said, ‘I hope you realize what you’re getting is beautiful, wonderful, and most important, never dull.’”

I laughed. It sounded just like my dad. But it also confirmed my suspicions that he was well aware of the seriousness of our relationship. I asked Michael how he responded.

“Just asked him to tell me something I didn’t already know.” He kissed my cheek and cupped my face in both of his hands.

“Tell me, CeeCee, where do we go from here?”

“We go the only way we can, Michael. We go forward.”