The Rapture of Omega (17 page)

By the time I got home, the children were awake and I was barraged by questions from Selina, Isabelle, and Rena about the previous night’s events. Selina was holding Lola. She wore an expression that dared anyone to try to take her little sister out of her arms. Her protectiveness made me smile. After several minutes of coaxing, I was able to hold Lola and cover her face with kisses, which made her giggle uncontrollably. Yes, our nightmare was finally over.

Exhaustion reared its ugly head later in the morning and Michael suggested I try to get some rest.

“We’ve been through a lot—the tornado, Paula, everything! You need to get some rest, Cee. If you keep up like this, you’re going to get sick, and if I know you, you’re going to go back to work and hunt Ms. Illeana Barron with a vengeance.” He smiled. “You’ll need all your strength to do that.”

He was right. I hadn’t thought about Illeana in the last several days, but as her image played around in my head, I realized I needed some sleep. I was so exhausted that I fell asleep in my clothes. I slept soundly and deeply, and felt somewhat disoriented when Michael woke me around six o’clock that evening. He was seated on the bed next to me. Even in the fading sunlight, I could see him smiling broadly.

“I was going to let you sleep all night, but I thought you would want to hear this,” he said.

“What?” I mumbled, trying to rub the remaining sleep from my eyes.

“It’s done, officially.”

“What is?” I wasn’t in the mood for word games.

“Paula.” He grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Lance Davis just called. Dan Maccoby took the first plea deal without question. Paula signed off on it—she’ll be formally sentenced to twenty-five years first thing in the morning!”

“Oh, Michael!” I sat up wide-awake and embraced him. “It’s really over! She’s really ours!”

I didn’t realize how hard I was crying until Michael reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a tissue, gently wiping at my eyes.

“Yes, it’s over,” he soothed. “We’ve finally got our baby—for real and forever. When things settle down, I’ve already decided we’re long overdue for a family vacation. How’s Florida sound? A week at the beach and a week at Disney World? I think the kids would agree.”

“I think that sounds wonderful,” I laughed. “Now, go get my beautiful baby girl and bring her here!”

Waiting for Michael to bring Lola up, I lay back onto my pillow and realized the magnitude of the past several weeks. I stared up at the ceiling with a smile on my face, knowing everything would be okay. But as my detective instincts began to overshadow the joy I felt, my smile slowly faded. Damn! Why couldn’t I be happy for at least one minute?

It was life, that’s why. My life of fighting criminals—murderers, sex offenders, robbers, and child abusers—continued to loom out there in the darkness. One of them in particular, a homely-looking woman who wore a smile filled with evil.

Paula Terman might be gone, but Illeana Barron wasn’t. I had a feeling that maybe my nightmare wasn’t over, and this was only the beginning.

Although in good spirits, I couldn’t help but feel slightly unnerved as I drove to work, always the perfect place to dash any hopes of a peaceful and content day. I was beginning to loathe my job more and more. I felt drained after the last several days, and wanted to be home with my children and Michael.

Trying to stay positive, I pulled into the parking lot and again noticed the apartment building across the street. A man was watching again, but this time he threw the curtains together when he saw me slow down and look at him.

It wasn’t paranoia, but instincts, that told me the incident was definitely worth looking into. Thankfully, there was a for-rent sign advertising the bottom unit of the building. I quickly wrote the number down. Then I found a parking spot nearest the station. Walking toward the secured police entrance, I knew without a doubt I was still being watched. Ignoring Naomi’s and Coop’s open office doors, I walked into my office and closed the door behind me, a sign I didn’t want to be disturbed under any circumstance.

As I dialed the number on the sign, I impatiently chewed my lip. It only took the walk from my car to my office for
me to figure out what I was going to say. It was several rings before a gruff, groggy-sounding man’s voice answered the phone.

“Yeah, what is it?” he barked.

“Excuse me, but who am I speaking with?” I asked kindly.

“Who the fuck wants to know?”

“This is Sergeant Gallagher with Richland Metro and I’m looking for the owner of the apartments at 55 North Street—across from the station.” I stayed polite, knowing the guy was shitting his pants about now.

There was quite a bit of rustling and moving about as the man attempted to pull himself together, most likely cursing his own phone etiquette.

“Yeah, um, that’s me…sorry ’bout that, ma’am. I get a lot of people calling to rent this early in the morning and I’m a night owl. Didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“No problem, I completely understand. The reason I’m calling is I’d like to know who occupies the upper-right apartment of the building, if you’re facing my station.”

I was met with silence, a response that concerned me, greatly.

“Are you there?” I asked.

The man coughed into the phone. “Yeah, yeah, I’m here…who did you say you were?”

I was starting to get irritated, and suspicious. “I’m Sergeant Gallagher with Richland Metro Major Crimes. Would you mind telling me your name, please?”

“It’s uh, umm, Gary. Gary Harris. Why are you asking about the upper apartment?”

“We have been receiving reports of a possible sexual predator living there. He has been seen frequently following children in the area and one of the parents followed him home. Now, I need you to tell me his name so I can
check to see if he is a registered sexual predator. At the very least, I’ll need to speak with him,” I lied.

“What? Don? No way, I can’t believe that!” He was awake now.

“I’m not asking for your opinion, Mr. Harris,” I said, upping the intensity, “I’m asking his name.”

“Oh, uh, it’s Don and Deborah Long. They moved in about a month ago.”

That sounded about right.

“Did they pay you in cash or a check?” I was feeling anxious.

“They paid me in cash—six months’ worth, but I got the impression they probably aren’t going to stay that long,” he said. “I’ve been up there and they only have a bed and a chair in the whole place. I don’t ask any questions because their rent’s paid but he certainly doesn’t seem like a pervert to me! A religious freak maybe, but not a perv!”

My pulse quickened. “Why do you think he’s a religious freak?”

“They don’t have much furniture, but they sure got a lot of weird religious shit on the walls—and a couple pictures of naked women rubbin’ on snakes and shit.” He paused. “Oh, and he’s got a small telescope by the window.”

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. They were Illeana’s people, I was convinced. They were clearly placed there to keep an eye on me. This woman never ceased to amaze me. She may have won the last battle with the restraining order, but I was about to win this one.

“Gary, did they ever tell you where they moved from or why they were here? Did they fill out a lease agreement or anything? A forwarding address, if they abandoned the place?” I was hopeful, but realistic.

“Nah, lady, I don’t make half these people do that. If I did, I’d never get the places rented. People think I’m gonna do credit checks on them if they fill out a lease so they walk away.”

“You must lose a lot of money in rent and damages doing that.”

“Not as much as if the places stayed empty for months at a time.” He coughed again, loudly, into the phone. “Well, I sure as hell ain’t having a perv living in my building, that’s for sure. As soon as I’m done talking to you, I’m gonna go over there and toss ’em!”

“I suspect by the time you get there, they’ll already be gone.”

It was just a hunch, but I was right. Gary called within the hour to inform me they had abandoned the place. Since there was a lack of furniture, he knew this only because the wall decorations and telescope were gone. It would take less than fifteen minutes for Don and Deborah Long to abandon ship. But, I wondered, why right now? I could only assume Don (if that was his real name; I doubted it) saw me writing down the number to the building owner and panicked. That particular theory didn’t feel right to me—there was another reason. I wracked my brain trying to figure out what it was, but it remained a mystery—until Naomi called. She was the messenger, delivering the answer I had sought for almost an hour.

“I need you to drive down to Illeana’s farm. Now.”

My pride immediately overtook logic. She wouldn’t ask me to do that if there wasn’t a major problem. But for a split second, I was unable to understand that.

“You want me to what? I thought I wasn’t allowed—” I stopped as my sense, and heart rate, kicked in. “What happened, Naomi?”

She breathed a loud sigh into the phone. “You were right. But now isn’t the time for apologies—”

“What happened?” I roared, interrupting her.

“We received an anonymous call early this morning. The uniforms were dispatched to the farm in reference to a body in the barn. Two officers were sent down and found the place abandoned. They’re gone, CeeCee, all of them. When the officers went into the barn they immediately noticed a mound of dirt in one corner, and the smell gave it away.”

I knew this was hard for her, only because Naomi had a significant amount of pride as well. Telling me this was like confessing to me that she was an ignorant dumb-ass for not believing me.

“Go on, I’m listening,” I said authoritatively, sensing what was coming.

“There was a large pool of dried blood by the mound,
and a few severed body parts at its base—some appear to be small children’s. We’re getting everything set up for the dig, but we’ll wait until you get here.”

I couldn’t help but let it rip at that point. I was beyond incensed, and horrified.

“Jeez-us Cahrist! I fucking knew it!” I screamed. “I hope you and the sheriff are fucking proud of yourselves. I’m on my way!”

I slammed the phone down and put my face in my hands. My stomach was turning and I began to feel the familiar anxiety of knowing we could’ve stopped a murder, or murders, and didn’t. The goddamn children! They were probably all in that hole, and it was our fault for not protecting them.

In a blind rage, I grabbed my keys and began the drive to the farm. At one point, I had to pull off to the side of the road for a few moments to calm down. My heart raced and I was starting to feel nauseated. We could have stopped this!

I had broken out into a cold sweat by the time I made it up the long driveway and parked next to Naomi’s car. I grabbed my briefcase, latex gloves, and camera before walking to the crowd of law enforcement officials, crime laboratory personnel, and others that would aid in the dig. As I walked past the main house, I slowed down and noticed the front door stood wide-open, as if inviting all those who walked past to enter and share the memories of the Children of Eden. Even from my viewpoint, I could see the walls were bare. The large picture that dominated the foyer, the one of the woman in the field, no longer faced the door.

The sheriff was the first to spot me—actually, I believe he was waiting for me—and left the crowd, meeting me halfway to the barn. As we approached each other,
the tension grew. I made no effort to hide the contempt on my face, but I couldn’t understand why he looked the same. On the defense, no doubt.

When we stood face-to-face, I locked my eyes on his and let him speak first. I couldn’t imagine what he could possibly have to say. I was more disappointed in the sheriff at that moment than I had ever been since I’d known him. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost his spine, his ability to put politics on the back burner and do what was right.

“Before you fly off the handle, I had no other choice.” His voice was low, but stern.

“That’s fine, why don’t you go explain that to those children. Oh, that’s right, you can’t—they’re all dead!” I was sarcastic and downright insubordinate.

“Keep yourself in check, Sergeant,” he said, growing angry. “I am still the sheriff here, and I don’t care how pissed you are at me, you still need to be professional and do your job.”

My eyes narrowed to mere slits. “Are you serious?
Now
you’re telling me to do my job? Two days ago you didn’t give me the
courtesy
to even listen to what I had to say—some things that may have prevented this.” I noticed Naomi had joined us, but she remained tight-lipped. “I told you both something like this was going to happen. But I wasn’t respected enough to be listened to.”

They both remained quiet as I continued staring at the sheriff and shaking my head in disgust.

“I never in a million years would have imagined that you would turn into a politician, but it’s official. You’ve finally put the lives of others second to your own status with the higher-ups. Congratulations.” I walked away.

I would probably be fired and, honestly, I just didn’t care at that moment. Expecting the sheriff to order me
off the crime scene any minute, I was slightly shocked to see him walk to his own car and drive away.

Guilt flooded in. I had known the man since I was a child and what I’d just said had been hateful—hurtful. I knew him well and knew he was dying inside at his own mistake, feeling responsible. Having to listen to my little diatribe made it considerably worse, I’m sure. Naomi walked up behind me as I approached the barn. I braced myself for a verbal assault from her.

“CeeCee, wait!” she called out.

I stopped, turned around, and prepared for war. It reminded me of the old days when I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with Naomi; I absolutely loathed her then. Those were the days she used her rank to fight me, rarely winning the battles, regardless. I was surprised to see the lines in her face showing the depth of her concern.

“We were wrong,” she admitted softly. “Unequivocally, undeniably, fucking wrong and, yes, you were right on the mark, but would you mind just hearing me out for a few minutes? Calmly, please?”

I crossed my arms and nodded.

“You really hurt him, you know,” she said, referring to the sheriff.

I broke my hardened stare and my eyes drifted to the ground, guilt overthrowing the strength I had intended on maintaining. She continued, knowing I felt like an asshole for the way I had treated the sheriff.

“I want you to really think about something right now, CeeCee, and don’t argue, say anything, or talk—just listen to what I’m saying.” She paused, testing the waters. “If we hadn’t pulled you off of this thing two days ago, what, realistically, would you have done in that time to prevent this?”

Unfortunately, for her, I was prepared for the question.

“I’ll tell you
what,
Naomi.” I tried to remain calm, although there was a distinct trembling in my voice. “You can reprimand me all you want, but I’ll clue you in on something. I continued with this under the radar and found out some more interesting information. Jax Zapone is holding over a half million dollars in a Mansfield bank account.
What I would have
done had I been
authorized,
is to bring him in for questioning and either have him acknowledge the money in the account was being hidden for Illeana, or turn him over to the IRS. What do
you
think he would have done? I’m fairly confident he would have cooperated, aren’t you? After getting a formal statement, I would have obtained a search warrant for the farm. Since Illeana knowingly disregarded a legal subpoena, I would have included that fact, along with all the other suspicions about the homicides in the affidavit. You know as well as I do the warrant would have been signed immediately.”

It was Naomi’s turn to look at the ground. However, I wasn’t finished.

“I’d say we would have probably had the warrant served by yesterday evening. We would have found the bodies and would have been able to make immediate arrests, if not prevent the murders, period. Is that enough, Naomi? Or shall I go on?”

She stayed quiet, soaking it all in, knowing that she and the sheriff had fucked up in epic proportions. It would be a hard fact to take, knowing you allowed the deaths of multiple people to take place. This was one of those rare situations in law enforcement that inevitably ends on the department shrink’s couch. Naomi’s eyes were red when she eventually looked up.

“I think you may have forgotten what just happened in the last two days with Lola,” she reminded me, and I cringed.

She was right. I had gotten so caught up in my own victory I couldn’t believe I had to be reminded of what I had just gone through. No, it wouldn’t have mattered. Even if I hadn’t been taken off the case, the events of the last two days would have put everything involving Illeana on hold. It was almost as if I could hear Illeana Barron laughing at me in the distance. It was almost as if she and Paula Terman had planned this together—to keep me occupied. Knowing that was impossible, I closed my eyes and hung my head in defeat.

“Naomi, I’m sor—” I whispered.

“Why don’t you go on in,” she interrupted, her voice trembling like mine. “The cadaver dogs are searching the rest of the property right now. I’ll be in shortly.”

She turned and began walking abruptly toward her car, most likely to take a time-out for a good bawling. I’ve been there myself, but, as guilty as I felt about how I treated them, I believe the sheriff and Naomi earned their grief—and I, unquestionably, earned mine.