The Rapture of Omega

by Stacy Dittrich

  “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.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  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 Naom
i; 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.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I was approximately twenty feet from the barn when I resolved one aspect of the crime—the time of death. Maybe not to the hour, but as the smell bowled me over from that distance, I was positive the victims had been dead for much longer than twenty-four hours. The smell of the dead is like no other. “It’s like trying to describe a color,” my father used to say. It was as distinctive as the crime itself.

  Spotting J.P. near the entrance, I made him my first stop. He was shaking his head, looking concerned as he spoke to the lab technicians.

  “Other than the obvious, is something wrong, J.P.?”

  “Hi, CeeCee, good to see you.” He patted my shoulder. “Nah, not really, there’s something that isn’t really making sense to me—outside of the fact that multiple people were slaughtered.”

  “What is it?” He had my full attention.

  “The outer layer of dirt. It’s filled with rose petals. People aren’t very smart in their covering bodies 101. Using roses to hide a smell is about as useless as a pogo stick in quicksand.”

  “They didn’t use the rose petals to cover up the smell, J.P.,” I stated matter-of-factly.

  He raised an eyebrow. “How’d you know that?”

  I went into a very brief explanation of the symbol and iconic representations of the Children of Eden. J.P. let out a low whistle.

  “Man, just when you think life in itself couldn’t get any worse.” He paused. “Well, let’s go get this over with.”

  I accompanied J.P. into the barn. As bad as the smell was outside, nothing prepared me for the stench that hit me once I entered. Rarely did I react to the smell of death, but this was so overwhelming, I found myself reeling backward out the door, gagging. Coop saved the day by sticking a large bottle of Vicks under my nose.

  “I meant to grab you before you went in,” he said somberly. “It’s one of the worst I’ve ever seen. We’re trying to get some fans in there.”

  Graciously helping myself to a small spoonful, I slathered the greasy menthol over, and in, my nose. I even stuck two pieces of gum in my mouth before I was able to venture back in. J.P. was waiting.

  “I’m gonna say by the smell and the condition of the body parts at the mound’s base, the time of death was approximately two to three days ago. With this heat and being inside this barn and all, decomposition was accelerated something fierce.” He nodded at the large mound of dirt that was situated near the corner.

  Two or three days ago would have been at or pretty damn near the time I was watching the ritual unfold in this very barn. I wondered if the murders had already taken place then and was the cause of the bizarre celebration. It would be hours before this particular question was answered.

  Noticing a small blackened hand, several toes, and an ear at the base of the mound, I took a deep breath and prepared myself. The other investigators and personnel took positions approximately ten feet away from the mound and formed a circle as the laboratory technicians began to dig.

  The deeper they dug, the farther back the onlookers stepped. With each inch of dirt thrown off the mound the already-unbearable stench grew stronger. Ten inches down, two of the lab techs threw their shovels to the side and ran outside to vomit. The hole they were digging was filling with red water, with what appeared to be pieces of flesh floating on top.

  Holes were knocked into the walls of the barn as large fans were set up to provide the workers with some relief, however small.

  After roughly an hour of digging, the first body was found; an adult woman, lying on her side. The FBI was notified, and a high-priority alert was issued for any member of the Children of Eden. From that point on, the digging would take hours to ensure the meticulous process of evidence collection. Two hours later, the first child was found, hands and feet bound with duct tape. Something like this takes an overwhelming emotional toll on the workers involved. The little girl couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven years old. Several investigators and technicians excused themselves, tears in their eyes. I, on the other hand, remained stoic. Not that I was emotionless; dead children will always bring me an indescribable grief—but I was angry. The anger overshadowed any other emotion that tried to fight its way through, no matter how powerful.

  In total, two adult
s and two children were found—a family. Only the children had their hands and feet bound, which indicated to me the parents were killed first. All had been shot in the head; they were executed. An abomination for which Illeana Barron was directly responsible, and I would see her pay dearly, no matter what it took.

  While the digging was halfway through, Coop drove back to the station to prepare the search warrant and get it signed by a judge. Quite frankly, the warrant wasn’t necessary—the place had clearly been abandoned. But, considering Illeana’s legal power, we thought it best to have our asses covered. He arrived back at the farm as they were loading the last body into the coroner’s van. We, along with Naomi, stood silent and watched. Michael and his two subordinate agents had arrived several minutes before, and would be executing the search warrant with us. Once the first body was located, Naomi had called him to find the source of the anonymous phone call. This took the FBI less than an hour before they had a man by the name of Kirk Richards in their interview room. Coop and I recognized the name instantly.

  “The smart-ass on the bike!” he exclaimed.

  “He was the one on the bike at Kelly Dixon’s murder, Michael,” I explained.

  “I’ll have to pass that along to the agent,” he said.

  Michael was on the phone with the interviewing agent every fifteen minutes getting updates on his statements. The statements he relayed to the rest of us were almost as disturbing as the murder scene itself.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “He was a former cult member,” Michael told us, although we had already figured that out. “And I say former loosely—he only left the cult yesterday, snuck away without them knowing.”

  We all stood on the front porch of the main house, listening to the horrific series of events that Kirk told the investigators.

  “The murders happened the night after the ceremony, Cee.” He paused and looked at Naomi, who looked at the ground in shame. “After the ceremony, someone apparently found some type of journal written by one of the women in the cult. According to this guy, she was one of Illeana’s right-hand women—her top aide.”