The Devil's Closet (13 page)

Eric was gone when I came back downstairs. I assumed it was too hard for him to watch me leave. I wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of saying good-bye to him forever either.

When I got back to the hotel, I called Michael, who answered his phone before I could even hear it ring. It hadn’t occurred to me that he toyed with the notion that I might back out once I was face-to-face with Eric. Hearing the relief in his voice when I told him I was in his room said it all. I spelled out the entire conversation with Eric and when I was done he remained quiet for a while.

“CeeCee, please make sure this is what you truly want, and that it’s best for you. I didn’t pressure you, did I? I don’t want you to resent me later.” It was a bit late if that was so, but thankfully it wasn’t the case.

“Michael, don’t be ridiculous. This is what I’ve always wanted. It just took me this long to admit it.

“What do you mean?”

“We never really
communicated
, Michael. Have you ever heard the saying how someone can talk for an hour and say nothing? That was Eric and me. I can’t remember ever sitting down and
really
talking. It was always about work, the girls, and saying I love you. If I had a problem, he’d say ‘I’m sorry, I love you’ and walk away. You know how I was after Murder Mountain, desperately needing someone to talk to and understand what was happening to me. Eric was always apprehensive about discussing it because Murder Mountain reminded him of you and me. I felt very alone—more than I ever have in my entire life—although I’ve never admitted it to myself until now. We neglected each other emotionally. It was like we were together the last three or four years of our marriage for comfort reasons.” I sighed. “It’s hard to explain. And maybe the most painful of it all is that I’d heard rumors over the years, but never gave them any thought. Now, I question whether this is the only affair Eric has ever had.”

“Don’t do that to yourself, Cee. Maybe you’ll find out, maybe you won’t, but don’t drive yourself crazy with what happened in the past. Right now, I am here for you, and I’ll do whatever it takes, or wait for however long it takes, to help you through this… I love you, kiddo.”

We said good-bye with his promise to check on me still good. I was physically and emotionally exhausted. I must have slept for ten hours at least, because when I woke up to Michael shaking me, it was dark out.

“CeeCee, you need to get up and come with me. There’s a problem.”

Michael didn’t help. He was digging through my suitcase, grabbing clothes and tossing them at me. I looked at the clock and saw it wasn’t as late as I had thought.

My sleep beginning to fade, I remembered the day’s events and why I was here, though it still didn’t answer what Michael was doing.

“Michael, slow down. I’m barely awake yet.”

“We don’t have time.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s happening.”

“Another body’s turned up.”

“Who?” I didn’t think I had slept through another Amber Alert; at least I hoped not.

“I’ll explain later. Move it. Let’s go.”

I dressed, clumsily and quickly, and followed Michael out the door. I assumed we were going to the crime scene, although he still wouldn’t respond to my questions. When we pulled into the department lot, I was still mystified.

“I thought we’d be going to the crime scene?”

“We are—kind of. Just follow me.”

It wasn’t like Michael to keep me out of the loop, so his behavior was puzzling. Downstairs by the crime laboratory, the hallway outside was a circus. Everyone was there talking with—and over—one another, but the scene quieted down considerably when they saw me. Now I was beginning to get unnerved.

My first thought was that something bad happened in my family. I started picking up my pace, walking ahead of Michael, ignoring the other agents and detectives.

Once in front of the lab doors, I shoved them so hard, they slammed against the wall when they opened. I followed voices to one of the rooms on the far side, where I saw the sheriff first, outside the examination room door.

“Sheriff, what’s going on?”

“CeeCee.” He pointed into the room. “Take a look.”

Inside, spread out and lying on a table, were bones; human bones. I learned that earlier, while Michael was leaving for the day, walking in the parking lot toward his car, a small boy, maybe nine or ten, was waiting for him holding a box. The boy said a man had paid him ten dollars to give the box to Michael. The man told the child which car to stand near, described Michael, and said to make sure not to leave until handing over the box.

Other agents had the boy and his parents upstairs, interviewing the child in hopes of getting a solid description of the suspect. The box contained a pile of bones, one red ribbon, and a dirty old My Size doll shoe.

I still wasn’t catching on as to the urgency of my arrival, or why I needed to know about it right this minute. After all, it wasn’t my show anymore. It was hard to get a grip as to who was in charge. I said this loudly and defiantly to Michael, and to the supervising agent standing next to him.

“CeeCee, he left
you
a note inside the box,” Michael said quietly.

“Me?” Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.

Michael led me to the next room and closed the door behind us. Sitting on the table right in front of me, enclosed in a clear plastic evidence bag, was a large yellow piece of paper.

I walked over to the table and stared down on the note written in block letters in black ink. It said:

THE KING COMMANDED, AND THEY BROUGHT DANIEL AND CAST HIM INTO THE DEN OF LIONS, AND INTO THE DEN DID DANIEL FALL. AND THE KING SAID TO DANIEL: THY GOD, WHOM THOU ALWAYS SERVEST, HE WILL DELIVER THEE.

THAT IS THE ANSWER YOU SEEK, CECELIA.

BY THE KING’S COMMANDMENT, THOSE MEN WERE BROUGHT WHO HAD ACCUSED DANIEL: AND THEY WERE CAST INTO THE LIONS’ DEN, THEY AND THEIR CHILDREN AND THEIR WIVES.

TELL ME, CECELIA, HAVE YOUR CHILDREN BEEN CAST YET?

TELL THE FBI THAT IF YOU ARE NOT NAMED IN CHARGE OF MY IMPENDING CAPTURE, ONE CHILD WILL BE TAKEN FOR EVERY DAY THEY DO NOT. I’LL BE WATCHING THE 6 O’CLOCK NEWS. AND SO IT BEGINS…

I jerked my arm away. “You waited
hours
before showing me this? What is the matter with you, Michael?”

Within minutes of reading the letter, I was in my car, Michael in the passenger seat insisting he make the fifty-minute drive with me. I’ll be damned if my daughters will be threatened, and even though I knew Michael had ensured their safety, I had to see for myself.

To ease my mind, I had spoken to my mother just as I left the parking lot of the department. Initially, she was highly agitated, understandably, about the two uniformed officers planted outside her door. But having been the wife of a cop, she understood all too well why and what needed to be done to keep her and the girls safe.

I knew the letter would be examined by forensic scientists, handwriting experts, and agents who specialized in decoding messages. However, they would never figure out the full answer. I, unfortunately, understood some of it already.

“Daniel 6:16,” I said softly.

“What?” Michael asked.

“The passage the killer referred to in the letter. It’s Daniel 6:16, and part of Daniel 6:24, I think, in the Bible.”

“How did you know that?” Michael sounded amazed.

“Twelve years of Catholic school. Anyway, if memory serves, there was a part in the letter that said something like ‘into the den did Daniel fall.’ That’s not part of the scripture. The killer added that himself.”

Our killer was more creative than any of us first thought. In the letter, he was implying that Albert Whitfield was Daniel, a man wrongfully accused.

But there was more to it, I was positive. The extra line the killer added meant something specific, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it. The last biblical passage frightened me more than a little as well.

“Michael, where’s Sean?” I asked, referring to his son.

“At home. Why?”

“The last passage refers to Daniel’s accusers and their children being thrown into the lions’ den. I’ll get into the rest later, but consider yourself an accuser in the killer’s eyes.”

Michael didn’t want to admit to the horror of that thought. The killer was angry that the FBI had fingered the wrong man. He wanted the limelight and didn’t want to share it with anyone else. Therefore, the ones who had accused the wrong man would pay.

“That’s taking it too far,” Michael said, still not admitting to himself his son might be in danger. “He doesn’t know anything about me.”

I just glanced at Michael and kept driving. After a moment or two, he grabbed his cell phone and called his ex-wife’s house to make certain the child was OK. Clearly and definitively, he told his ex-wife to take Sean to her brother’s house until she heard back. Michael talked to his son for a while and hung up.

“Why did you tell her to go to her brother’s house?”

“He’s a Cleveland cop.”

“Oh.”

We made the rest of the trip in silence, except for the one call I made to Eric. I explained what was going on and said that I would be bringing the girls back. We agreed that he would take several days off and head with them to our condominium in North Carolina until he heard from me.

One thing I can say about Eric is that he would, without a doubt, protect our girls with his life. The call was quick and to the point, which was fine since I didn’t need any more emotional drama right now.

It was late by the time we arrived, and I knew the girls would be in bed. My mother and stepfather lived on the seventeenth floor of a high-rise condominium on the coast of Lake Erie, just outside of downtown.

As I expected, the girls were asleep. I hated to wake them, but there was no other choice. Part of me didn’t care since I was thrilled to see them and missed them horribly. As sleepy as they were, they were just as excited to see me, but exhaustion took them over again before they could ask about Michael, who had remained quiet. I merely waved my hand at my mother’s impending interrogation about him. She got the hint.

While driving back, Michael told me that the next morning Earl Howard, supervising agent of the FBI, wanted to meet with me and the sheriff. Swell. He was the supervisor I had already butted heads with, and I wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of seeing him again. Michael was trying to prep me for the meeting, firm that I just hear Howard out and not argue. Naturally, I didn’t want to listen to any of what he was saying either.

“That guy is a serious asshole and doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing.”

“CeeCee, please.”

I put my hand up to tell him to stop. We were arriving at the department, and Eric was standing by the front door waiting. Michael immediately headed for a side door, saying he’d see me inside. Apparently, he didn’t want to go round two with Eric.

I woke the girls, and they were excited to see their father. Once they were settled in his car, he shut the door and turned to face me.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. How are you?”

He leaned against the car. “I’ll be honest with you, I’m having a hard time with this.” He paused. “I told Jordan we needed to take a break until I get my head together.”

“I’m sorry,” not about the Jordan part, “but let’s see what happens, Eric. Please remember, don’t say anything to the girls. You promised we would tell them together.”

He simply nodded. Both of us hurt so much. As we said our good-byes I embraced the man I had called my husband for over eleven years. Eric didn’t want to let go, so I allowed it to go on for another minute or so before taking his hands away gently. I told him I would be over in the morning to pack the girls’ bags. I watched him drive away.

When I turned to go inside the department, I looked up to my office window and saw Michael standing there, looking down at me. By time I walked in, he was sitting down.

“Everything go okay, Cee?”

“We should go,” I suggested, ignoring his question. “I have to get up early and go home and pack the girls’ things before my meeting with your boss.”

He nodded. We were quiet the entire ride back to the hotel, until we pulled in the parking lot when Michael couldn’t take it anymore.

“I can’t stand this, wondering what you’re thinking all the time. Or feeling. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Eric broke up with Jordan today” was my only response.

“What? What does that have to do with anything? Unless… are you going back to him?” He was getting anxious.

I was not going back to Eric—there was too much damage done as far as I was concerned—but I also didn’t feel like I needed to explain that to Michael.

When we got to the room, I went directly into the bathroom, slammed the door, and sat down on the floor with my head in my hands for what seemed like an hour.

When I finally felt like my head was no longer going to explode, I opened the door.

Michael was lying on the bed with his hands under his head, just looking up at the ceiling. He didn’t acknowledge me, even when I sat next to him.

“Michael?”

“What.” Terse and emotionless, to say the least.

I reached out and put my hand on his chest. “I am not going back to Eric. That is something you need to know, and to believe. But you also have to understand this is hard for me. I’ve been married to him for over eleven years and we have children. It’s not all that simple.”

It was at least a minute before he sat up and faced me, putting his hand on the small of my back.

“CeeCee, I’m the one who’s sorry. I know this is hard for you. I’ve been through it myself. It’s just that every time I see you and Eric put your hands on each other, it terrifies me. I ached for you for a year, and now when it looks like we might actually happen, it just seems surreal, and I keep waiting for something to get screwed up.”

I put my hands on his face and started passionately kissing him. We fell back onto the bed, and made love. It was tender, and it was beautiful. I truly loved him. And I know for the right reasons.

We fell asleep in each other’s arms and stayed that way all night. I set an early alarm so I could get over to the house and pack for the girls. I explained to them I was working all night so they didn’t ask any questions. I let Michael sleep, but he must’ve gotten up shortly after I left, as he was in Coop’s office when I arrived at work. Coop seemed a little brighter that morning than he had been in a while, and it reminded me that I never found out what had been going on to make him so distant and irritable. Some friend I am. I made a mental note to find time to talk with him privately. We chatted briefly before Michael and I went back to my office.

He closed the door behind us and grabbed me around the waist before kissing me long and warmly.

“I had to get that out of the way if I’m to function properly today, Detective.”

“I hear you, Agent.”

It was time for the meeting with Supervisory Agent Earl Howard. He, the sheriff, the chief, and two senior agents were waiting for us in the sheriff’s conference room. We were just to the end of the hallway in the bureau when Kincaid poked her head out of her office.

“CeeCee, Michael! Wait! The sheriff just called. The meeting’s postponed. They just arrested Albert Whitfield.”