Corktown (23 page)

What was happening? He shot her. I saw it myself.

Madero dropped to his knees, his stare never leaving mine as he gasped for air. I shook my head. It couldn’t be. No!

Grinning from cheek to cheek behind Madero stood a tall, bloodied man with his tousled mane matted to the sides of his face. I knew that hair, no mistaking it; Preston Carter was alive.

Quicker than I could ever have imagined, he moved from the door to the bottom of the stairs and bounded up, two at a time. I raised my weapon. Preston closed in on me—only four steps away. His arm swung upward. The scalpel still gripped tightly. My weapon had yet to finish its upward swing. He was too close. I needed more room and pressed up further against the door. I had time for one shot.
Make it count, Abby.

80

His head snapped back as skull and brain erupted from behind it. Tilting back on his heels, Preston Carter fell. Smoke rose from the dark hole at the center of his forehead. His blue eyes were already lifeless. The fall seemed to last an eternity. When he hit the floor, he lay sprawled on his back with a blank stare. His head tilted to the side as blood pooled underneath.

I let out a large breath of air, not realizing I had been holding it. My eyes were transfixed on Preston’s lifeless body, as if I somehow expected him to rise up and come after me again. Was he dead? Should I incorporate the Madero Method? I looked at the slumped over detective. He was still alive before Preston made his move toward me, but now he lay motionless.
They were all dead,
I thought, until I heard a noise behind the door. A soft crying, barely audible.

I pressed the left side of my face against the cool wood, so my lips were where the door met the frame.

“Lorenzo? Jackson? Can you hear me? It’s Agent Kane… Everything is okay. No one is going to hurt you… You’re safe now. Please unlock the door.”

I listened for movement and heard rustling, followed by squeaks in the floorboards. The knob jiggled, and then I heard a click. Slowly the door opened, revealing a little boy with puffy, red eyes. I quickly entered the darkened room and shut the door behind me. “You must be Jackson,” I said.

He nodded his head before jumping into my arms. “Everything is fine,” I whispered, my eyes searched for his brother. He sat quietly in the corner, sniffling. I reached out with my arm. “Come, Lorenzo. You’re safe. I won’t hurt you.”

81

It was a long night at the cabin.

I stayed in the room with the boys until the first unit arrived. There were three mattresses laid across the floor, taking up the width. The space was obviously a makeshift bedroom, and long stays, if any, were not the norm. The boys continued to ask about their parents, especially the little one, Jackson.

“Mommy and Daddy are very sick. They have to see a doctor.” I didn’t want to lie, but what else could I tell them?

“Are they going to be okay?” Jackson asked.

“Let’s hope so.” I gave him a hug.

I felt terrible for the two. They were young and innocent. Clearly they loved their mother and had only done what she had asked them to. I didn’t blame them. In fact, it angered me that she had taken advantage of them. It reminded me of those parents who used their kids to distract salespeople so they could shoplift. What a despicable act.

When I first entered the attic space, I noticed an earbud from an mp3 player in Jackson’s ear. The other one dangled in front of his chest; it’s probably why he heard me and opened the door. A tiny window allowed a few rays of moonlight into the room, but my eyes still needed time to adjust.

I fetched my mini flashlight from my pocket and surveyed the boys and the rest of the room. They were both dressed in jeans, sweaters, and Tiger’s baseball caps. Each had their own backpack filled with a change of clothes and a few toys and books. Lorenzo also had an mp3 player and used it while sitting contently in the corner.

I spotted a mini cooler against the wall. Inside were juice containers, a couple of yogurts, and a plastic dish with chopped fruit inside. Jackson crawled over.

“Would you like something to eat?” I asked.

He nodded and pointed to a container filled with fruit. Before popping a grape into his mouth, he smiled at me, the first and only smile I would see all night. Obviously thought had gone into keeping the boys comfortable—though I suspected the real purpose of the mp3 players was to shield them from hearing what was likely to happen outside the room.

As the night wore on, Jackson succumbed to sleep while his head lay in my lap. I ran my fingers through his hair and couldn’t help but wonder about what effects all that had happened would have on them. Were they damaged goods? Would they remember anything? Worse yet, would they turn out like their parents? Did either of the two inherit the genetic makeup for violent behavior?

My eyes welled as these sad thoughts flowed through my head. I couldn’t imagine my kids having to endure such an ordeal. It made me miss Ryan and Lucy even more. Interestingly enough, I couldn’t help but compare myself to Katherine. Even with all she and Preston were facing, that woman still had the mindset to ensure the boys were comfortable and taken care of. Part of me had expected the boys to be half-dressed, hungry, and in need of a bath. It was quite the opposite.
Was she a better mother to her kids than I was to mine?

I quickly shook that thought out of my head. It was ridiculous to even think that. Katherine was nothing more than a cold-blooded killer, right?

I called out more than once for Lorenzo to join us, but he wouldn’t budge, which was fine by me. In all honesty, I couldn’t quite tell if he knew what had taken place outside that door. Was the young boy smart enough to know what his parents had planned, or worse, what they were? I was pretty sure in little Jackson’s eyes, Katherine was simply Mom.

When I heard the approach of the first siren, I told both boys, “Lock the door and don’t open it for anybody but me.” I wanted to get them out of there as soon as possible, but I also didn’t want them to see what had happened to their parents.

It took time, but we were able to remove the boys an hour later when Child Protective Services arrived. The bodies were still strewn about the cabin floor, so we did our best to cover them before I escorted the two boys out.

A few officers found Solis’ body off to the right side of the house. He had suffered a fatal gunshot to the head. Preston Carter had been shot multiple times, but they were all superficial wounds, hence the reason for his reprieve. I’d gotten lucky with Katherine and had hit her three times in the chest. From the look of the wounds, it should have killed her, but I couldn’t be sure. I knew her autopsy would reveal that the head wound came from Madero’s gun. Maybe she did move. Maybe she did reach for her gun. Sitting at the top of the stairs, I couldn’t see her. Madero’s wide stance had blocked my view.

When Lieutenant White arrived, he made it his business to find me right away. One look at his body movement told me he wasn’t happy about the situation. I thought he would be, considering we had caught the killers.

“I told you guys to stay put. I know you got my message, so don’t say you didn’t.”

“Had we waited and mobilized with a tactical unit, we would have run the risk of the Carters disappearing for good.”

“You don’t know that!”

“You keep telling me what I know. Guess what? I know I caught the killers,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. It didn’t matter what White had to say; I was determined to stand my ground—even when he delivered a cheap blow.

“And got Solis and Madero killed.”

Insinuating their deaths were the result of my judgment call was beyond bullshit. I took a deep breath in hopes it would help to calm my nerves. I was a popcorn kernel of a degree away from exploding. “Look, Lieutenant, we all knew the risk.” My voice was steadier than I had anticipated. “No one was forced to do anything here. So don’t you dare accuse me of endangering your men.”

“All I’m doing is pointing—”

“Don’t interrupt me. I have the floor, and you will show me a little respect and hear what I have to say. Is that understood?” I knew White was a ranking officer with Detroit police but he wasn’t my boss. And anyway, it went beyond protocol; it was about common courtesy. White gritted his teeth and pursed his lips before acknowledging me with a nod.

“We couldn’t risk waiting,” I continued. “They were heading back underground.”

“Why would you think that? There are six RRs. There’s still one left.”

“Not true. According to Ellen Scott, there were five, not six. Elliot Hardin made a mistake.”

“What makes you so quick to believe her over Hardin?”

I shrugged. “She was adamant about it. My guess is, they were more afraid of what would happen if they came out than they were of the Carters. And as you can see,” I said looking around us, “the Carters went on the run.”

White let out a deep breath and rubbed his hand back and forth over his bald head. “That doesn’t mean there aren’t six RRs,” he mumbled as he turned away to look at the property. “We lost two good men today,” he said, still facing away from me.

“Don’t you think I know that?” I shook my head and shifted my weight to my other leg. I looked around at the manpower surrounding me, the people dusting, bagging, and photographing, even the ones moving the bodies. They were all here to help to bring the case to a close.
You did well, Agent.
That was the phrase that should accompany my internal pat on the back.

I’m guessing from the way White’s shoulders dropped, he accepted the reality of what had happened. He further deflated by letting out a heavy breath and lowering his head. His eyes eventually found their way back to me. “Agent Kane, you did good. You got our killers in the end.”

I nodded in agreement.

“Don’t think I’m against you here. I do appreciate everything you’ve done.”

I let my gaze roam the scene around us. It had started to grow chaotic. Different departments of law enforcement had descended onto the property. I didn’t even want to think about the manpower needed for the forensics investigation of all those burial plots. Unimaginable. But it was over. That’s what mattered.

Still, there was one bit that bothered me—the cover-up. “Lieutenant,” I said, “I found a book at the Carter’s residence. It’s what led us here.” I filled him in on the details.

“So you’re saying from the Garrison arrest forward, they hunted various street people and then buried all of those victims here?”

I nodded. “Well, we’re assuming their victims were street people. No one to report their disappearance. We’ll know for sure once they start uncovering the bodies.”

I watched him bounce the thought around for a bit. He seemed to buy the theory. “Why bury them and not the RRs?” he asked. “What’s the reason for making them public?”

“Katherine wanted revenge. She wanted to instill fear in the executives, let them know someone was after them.”

White nodded. “She’s been married to that psycho for some time. I wonder why she waited until now.”

“Maybe she didn’t know enough about them and needed time to track them down,” I offered.

“Sheesh, those two were a perfect match for each other. What are the odds?” White grabbed hold of his pants and tugged them up.

“You know, your 24/7 surveillance team should have picked up on this place.”

White’s eye’s narrowed in on me. “What are you getting at, Agent?”

“If that team had done their job, this place should have sounded the alarm.”

“You’re right.” The Lieutenant held up the notebook in his hands. “Maybe it would have led us to the Carters or this book sooner. For now, I’ll hang on to it.” He then shoved the notebook into his back pocket.

I opened my mouth to speak but stopped myself. White must have sensed what I was going to say.

“Let it be. It doesn’t matter now. It’s over. You can go home, and I can go back to counting the days to retirement.” White held his pleading stare until someone called out for him. Before walking away, he repeated what he had told me once already. “It’s bigger than you and me.”

82

The drive back to Detroit was long and arduous—lonesome, too, if I were to be honest. I missed sitting in the passenger seat while Wilkinson watched me fix my lipstick from the corner of his eye. I still had trouble believing he was gone. The mornings at the hotel were sad reminders. There were times I expected to see him in the lobby waiting with a coffee for him and a green tea for me. I wished he were.

There were a lot of things I wished I had done differently—like not playing hard to get for as long as I did, or saying yes to more of those late-night drinks. I wished I had taken him seriously sooner.

Since the murder of my husband, my social life had been scarce, like the ice age. I had almost forgotten what sex was like until that night with Wilkinson. Even though I hurt between my legs the next day, I had been ready for round two.

It’s not like I didn’t want to date after Peng’s death. There were plenty of opportunities, but it had felt like I would have been cheating on him. Wilkinson broke through, though. He helped me open myself up again. And now he was gone, too.

Since his death, I’d spent more time than I wanted lying awake in bed, thinking about what I could have done differently that night. There were a million ways we could have approached the situation. Would the outcome have changed? Perhaps. I try not to beat myself up about it. I could run multiple scenarios through my head that would lead to a positive outcome, but it wouldn’t be fair. With hindsight, one can always skew the results.

The truth was, the case was screwy from the start. The more I thought about the cover-up, the angrier I became, even though it had no direct affect on Wilkinson’s death. I wanted it to. It would be something I could blame.

I couldn’t shake it. How does a cover-up that big go unnoticed? A corrupt city, that’s how. Wild scenarios swam around inside my head. None of it made any sense. My imagination started to get the best of me.