“One day at a time, huh?”
I wadded a piece of paper and threw it at him, then opened my desk drawer and took out the item I’d been desperate to look at since I read the killer’s letter. It was my Bible. I always kept one handy in case there was a day I needed divine intervention, which realistically was about 364 out of 365 days a year.
“Are we having a prayer meeting?”
“No, I want to look up that passage in the Book of Daniel, smartass. But if you want to, we can. I’m sure your soul needs a little saving, and I know damn well mine does.” Michael merely laughed, and I lit a cigarette.
“You know those things will kill you, Cee.”
“If they don’t, this job will.”
I found the appropriate section. I was right. There were no words in Daniel 6:16 that said “Daniel fell.” I still didn’t understand what he meant by that. Was it that Albert got caught anyway since, I assumed, the killer meant Albert Whitfield was Daniel? I wasn’t supposed to do any investigation of this case anymore, according to Agent Howard and the FBI, but I knew I was on to something. Just what, it was too soon to say.
I wasn’t sure what to tell Michael yet, because I hadn’t fully checked into Jim Carlson. Then I remembered something. I had forgotten about the bag of garbage in the trunk of my car. Michael clued in.
“Uh-oh, I know that look. CeeCee got a brainstorm.”
“I have to go.” I stood, slammed the Bible shut, and grabbed my purse and keys.
“Whoa, wait just a minute. Where to now?”
“Just something I forgot to do.” I was out the door before he could argue.
I needed to go somewhere by a Dumpster so I could toss out any unnecessary items. I also needed to be careful about anyone spotting me. I could just hear the calls going to the department about a woman digging through garbage.
I found an old abandoned warehouse near downtown and drove around to the back. There were two large, green Dumpsters in the lot. Whether anyone regularly checked them for garbage was anyone’s guess, but I didn’t plan on leaving anything consequential in them anyway.
I took the bag and a blanket out of my trunk. I laid the blanket out and set the bag on top of it. After putting on my latex gloves, I opened the bag. I wasn’t overcome by any noxious odor, so I assumed there wasn’t any food in there.
I tore the bag along one side to open it up and leave the garbage on the plastic. There wasn’t much. It looked like someone was putting new wallpaper up. There were remnants of wallpaper, some that apparently didn’t fit right after they were cut. The pattern was a gaudy, purple paisley design that I wouldn’t even use in my attic. There was an old paintbrush hardened by wallpaper paste, rolled-up plastic, and newspapers.
Underneath the pile of wallpaper junk, I found an item that captured my interest, and I set it aside. I sorted through small pieces of carpet remnants and located another item. I placed that one with the other.
It was clear whoever lived there was remodeling. Maybe when Jim Carlson moved out, he’d left the place in a shambles and Carl Malone had to do some touch-ups.
I located several other interesting items before grabbing the corners of the bag, gathering the garbage, and throwing it in the Dumpster. Then I removed several evidence bags from my trunk and placed the intriguing items inside. I put all the bags at the bottom of a box, put the blanket on top, and shut the trunk.
Each of the items alone didn’t prove much, but together they definitely said something. It was the totality of the evidence.
I was still debating whether to tell Michael about my private investigation when I pulled into the parking lot. Standing before me, next to Michael’s car, were him and Jordan.
Michael was leaning back against his hood while Jordan pranced around, flipped her hair and flashed her million-dollar smile. Every nerve ending in my body came alive, and I began to feel my blood boil.
I swung my car into the space next to Michael’s and was almost out of the vehicle before it had stopped. Michael instantly saw the state I was in. It couldn’t have been hard for him to guess why. Jordan followed Michael’s eyes and stopped smiling.
I headed right for her, and Michael stepped in front of me. He must’ve thought I was going to smash her face in. Though I would’ve liked to, that wasn’t my intention. At least for the moment.
“Move, Michael.” I was seething.
“CeeCee, think before you do anything you’ll regret.”
I walked to his side and stepped in front of Jordan before she had a chance to leave. She tried walking around me, but I placed my hand on her chest, and pushed her back against the car, pinning her down. I didn’t weigh much more than she did, but I was taller and stronger.
“All right, CeeCee, that’s enough,” Michael said sternly.
“I would like to talk only to Jordan, if you don’t mind.” I nodded for him to back away, then turned back to her.
“Now then.” I was amazed at how calm my voice sounded. “I think you and I need to have a discussion. Did anyone ever tell you that fucking your training officer is a good way to get yourself fired?” I smiled.
She glared at me and started to say something, but chose to remain silent; a wise move on her part.
“Tell me, Jordan, how old are you?”
“Thirty.”
I was taken aback. Sinclair had previously told me that she was twenty-four or twenty-five. She was only four years younger than I was, but didn’t look a day over twenty-one. Regardless, she had been sleeping with my husband and now had the audacity to come on to Michael. Stupidly, she no longer remained quiet.
“Take your hand off me. I need to go.” She fumed.
“You had the boldness to stand in that locker room the first day I met you and ramble on about me. All the while, you were sleeping with my husband.” My voice was still calm.
She exploded, which I didn’t expect. “That’s right, CeeCee! I was sleeping with your husband! But it doesn’t matter now, does it? He’ll still chase you around even when he knows you don’t want him, but that’s what you want, right? You don’t want him, but you don’t want anyone else to have him either. When our child is born I fully intend to find a new job, you bitch!” She started to cry.
I felt the blood drain from my face and a punch hit me square in the gut at the same time.
“How far along?” I heard the quiet, scratchy words come out of my mouth, but didn’t feel as if I were actually saying them.
“Eleven weeks.”
Sucker punch number two. My mind was scrambling. Eric had only been training her a little over ten weeks. It finally hit me. Eric was an instructor at the police academy. He must have started seeing Jordan there. The academy lasts four months and if I did the math, they could’ve been seeing each other for as long as six months. When Eric referred to three months the night I overheard them talking, he was merely talking about how long it had been since she started in the department. Realizing she had me, Jordan laughed.
“What? You think it was an accident that Eric was training me? Wake up, CeeCee.”
“Does Eric know?” There was the same scratchy, hoarse voice again.
“No, thanks to you! He left and said he needed time. Of course that could be since you guys slept together the other morning, too. I had planned on waiting until my first trimester was over, so I knew everything was okay before I told him, and get through my training. But then he came back”—she nodded at Michael—“and Eric became obsessed about it. I got scared about how he would take it.” Her arrogant tone changed, and she began to beg. “Please, CeeCee! You don’t want him! Quit being so goddamn selfish and just let him go. He’s been miserable for the last year, and he deserves to be happy!”
She shoved my hand aside and took off, half running toward the department. I stood facing the car, absorbing the bombshell she just dropped. I wasn’t taking it in all that well. I began to have a hard time catching my breath. My chest was heaving. I leaned on the hood for balance because I was
getting rather dizzy. Michael was there instantly, but I pushed him away.
“I-I just need some air,” I said breathlessly, and took in a deep lung full. It didn’t seem to make a difference.
During incomprehensible situations, one’s mind plays tricks. Now, for reasons unknown, I began to laugh. I laughed so hysterically, I was convinced I was having a good, old-fashioned nervous breakdown. Still not able to catch my breath, I squatted down and put my face between my knees. That didn’t help. All it did was constrict my diaphragm even more.
She was pregnant. How would I explain that to my daughters? How could I tell them they would have a new brother or sister and that he or she had a different mother? I felt so betrayed to find out that all these months he was being unfaithful, and it was almost too much to bear. He could never, ever use Michael as an excuse. I never lied to Eric about Michael, and I hadn’t slept with him when we first met.
I was shaking and sweating profusely. Michael picked me up off the ground.
“CeeCee, you need to calm down.”
“I’m fine, Michael. Just let me walk.” I headed for God knows where and he followed, looking like he wanted to take care of me, but also afraid of my increasingly irrational state.
Breathing was easier, but I didn’t feel that much better. I walked toward a picnic table on the outer grassy area of the parking lot under a large maple tree. The closer I got, the more I felt myself begin to dissolve. Jordan’s news was simply way too much to absorb on top of everything else.
I sat on the table, out of control yet numb, and just let Michael stand and hold me. I knew it was an unusual position for him to be in, but he handled it well. Eventually, I felt able to breathe and speak rationally. Now it was time to vent.
“I can’t believe this lie after lie after lie from Eric. The day you two had your fight, he was begging me to go to North Carolina with him, alone, to work it out!”
“I’m sure he meant every word at the time, Cee.”
“I’m so angry! I’m angry and hurt and confused. I mean, I remember three or four months ago when he would come home from work and everything seemed normal. Even the night I told him you were coming he seemed fine, for crying out loud. But now I find out it was all bullshit? And then, all the months I pushed you out of my head because I didn’t want to dishonor and betray my husband? Ha! That’s a laugh!” I started crying again.
Michael handed me a tissue (I have no idea where he got it, but lately the need for tissues has been continual) and kissed the top of my head.
“You need to call him.”
I had every intention of doing so when I got my act together. I’d call to congratulate him on his impending fatherhood. I’d let him figure out how to tell our daughters what was happening with their parents and why.
As angry as I was at Eric right then, there was a part of me that felt bad for Jordan. She obviously loved Eric, was looking ahead to, possibly, single motherhood, and it seemed to me she was all alone.
“She really loves him, doesn’t she?” I whispered, the ill feeling coming back yet again.
“I’d say that’s pretty obvious. She’s right, you know.” He was quiet.
“Right about what?”
“I know everything just happened, but no matter what you say, you can’t seem to let go of Eric.”
That was easier said than done. I also felt the need to apologize to Michael for continuing to put him in an awkward position of not fully knowing whether we were going forward or not. Each time I made a commitment to him, feelings rose up to loosen it. He said he wasn’t uncomfortable with my behavior, that I needn’t apologize, and he understood. How much longer would I continue doing this to him?
I looked at Michael. “I just realized, if you hadn’t come back, we may have never seen each other again—ever. I mean, if Eric had left me for Jordan, I would’ve never gotten up the nerve to call you. I think I would’ve been too afraid you’d have already found someone else.”
He responded by holding me tighter and quietly chuckling. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but when I saw the look on your face I thought for sure you were going to knock her out right there in the parking lot.”
I began to laugh just a little, too. Michael always tried to find the amusing aspect of everything, no matter how dire it appeared on the surface. We reluctantly agreed to go back to the office. While we walked, I asked Michael what he was doing in the parking lot and what Jordan was saying to him. Turns out, he had gone to get a file out of his car as she was pulling in. Just to be friendly, she walked over and started chatting away about nothing in particular.
“Why, CeeCee? Were you jealous?” He smiled.
“As a matter of fact, I was.” I raised one eyebrow at him, and his smile grew bigger.
But we really needed to put the personal drama aside for more important efforts. Immediately, Michael started using my phone to contact other agents and direct them here and there. I still couldn’t get myself back on track. All I could think of was that I couldn’t call Eric yet. He probably still had five more hours of driving before he and the girls got to the condominium. I didn’t want to shock him into a car accident by telling him about Jordan. He had said he would call me when they got there. There was nothing I could do till then.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Finally, I forced my mind back onto the job. There was more planning to be done. I needed to think about another surveillance, or possible break-in, tonight at Jim Carlson’s house. Once again, I had to come up with something to tell Michael without revealing the sheriff’s role. I also wanted to talk to Carlson’s neighbors this afternoon.Michael was gabbing away on the phone, so I motioned that I was going to get a cup of coffee. He gave a thumbs-up, and I quietly grabbed my keys from behind him. I passed the coffee machine and went straight to my car. I hated lying to Michael, but I was protecting him. What he didn’t know couldn’t get him in trouble.
As soon as I turned onto Jim Carlson’s street, I spotted a woman with a small black terrier standing in the yard of her house, which sat directly to the east of his. I needed to be careful. She couldn’t know I was a cop.
An idea came to me, and I pulled right into her driveway. I told her I was from a bank and that we were getting ready to foreclose on the residence next door. The payments hadn’t been kept up and the house appeared to have been abandoned. I needed to make sure no one was living there before the foreclosure papers were filed. I said whatever I thought would make her comfortable with me.
“Carl fell behind in his payments? That’s unusual.”
She clearly knew Malone owned the house. “Unless the fellow who lives there fell behind in rent, and Carl just couldn’t cover it.” She looked down at the ground, thinking about what she had just said.
I told her I would appreciate it if she didn’t say anything to Carl or anyone else right now. The foreclosure wasn’t a done deal and if I could get a hold of the renter, I could see if he was planning on catching up the payments.
“He’s not home much, ma’am. I just assumed he travels a lot.”
I began to ask the woman, Ellen Powers, a series of questions. She said he was tall, wore glasses, had brown hair and a thick mustache. She had never spoken to him because he always seemed in a hurry. He had lived there alone for a little over ten months and drove a large black pickup truck.
It was him; it had to be. It was a dark pickup truck that tried to run me off the road. He traveled, which told me he was hiding the girls somewhere else. He’d only been here ten months, but that was just enough time to plan his kidnappings. I’d bet if I checked out his last state of residence, I’d find a couple of missing girls. If I knew his real name.
And lastly, I was sure his appearance was nothing but a disguise. I was itching to get inside that house, but I had to keep my wits about me. After I thanked Ellen and left, I drove past Carl Malone’s house hoping to catch him and ask about his renter. No such luck because, again, he wasn’t home. It was getting late. I had be
en gone over two hours and had turned my phone off. I turned it back on and called Michael, who, I was sure, was bouncing off the walls by then. Predictably, he answered on the first ring.
“I suppose it’s pointless to even ask?”
“Pretty much, I’m headed back right now.”
“Just go to the hotel and we’ll go grab dinner.”
He was irritated, which was hardly a surprise.
When I got to the hotel, he was sitting in a chair at the small table in the room, talking on his phone. I gave a playful wave and he only responded with a glare. He hung up and just as he began to badger me, my cell phone rang. Eric.
There were no lesser of two evils in this case. I didn’t want to deal with either man right now. I pointed to my phone and mouthed Eric before stepping outside. He and the girls had arrived safe and sound, all three exhausted from the drive. For a moment I almost considered not raising the issue of Jordan at all, but I had to. It went worse than expected.
When I told Eric about Jordan being pregnant, I heard him gasp, and then he said nothing. I had to remind him several times that the girls were there and he needed to keep it together, though I hope he had the sense to leave the room they were in while we talked.
I told him how I discovered he had been seeing Jordan while she was in the academy, and I even went so far as to call him a bastard once or twice. I yelled that he deceived me, our daughters, and our marriage. He began to bring up Michael, but I cut him off immediately.
“Don’t you dare! I made a choice a year ago, and that choice was you,” I shouted. “I never lied to you, Eric. I told you everything about Michael. Had I known you’d make me pay for it every day since, I might’ve made a different decision and saved us both a lot of grief. If you didn’t think you would get over it, why didn’t you just walk away back then? Did I really deserve all of this?” Any attempt at composure was over. I was crying hard now.
He sighed. “I thought I would be able to get over it, CeeCee, but I couldn’t. Now I see I never could. The minute I realized that, I should’ve walked but didn’t. I kept thinking something would change.”
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