Getting closer to the falls again, I felt myself near the brink of full-blown hysterics. I had to get the thought of Naomi out of my head or I would fall apart and not be able to continue.
When I ran back into the middle of the falls I looked at my watch and saw I was five minutes late. Heaving and trying to catch my breath, I dropped the doll on the ground and looked around the rocks for Brooklyn’s body.
I didn’t see it, but now I began to vomit from my run, falling back down on my knees and arms. I was dizzy and couldn’t catch my breath no matter what.
“Very good, Cecelia!” the voice yelled while I was still throwing up. “Did I say an hour and ten minutes? I’m sorry, I meant an hour and a half!” His unsettling laughter started again loudly.
I began taking deep breaths and tried to focus on something, anything except the situation at hand. My chest felt like someone had driven a pickax right through it, and God only knew the ass-kicking my heart had taken.
Still on my knees, I leaned back and looked up, crossing my arms above my head while taking deep breaths.
“Not in good shape for a police officer, are you, Cecelia! I’ll let you rest. We’ve got all day and night!”
How I prayed Coop got my message in time. Every time I looked up and saw Naomi hanging there, I thought I might be sick. I couldn’t believe she might be dead. I started to sob again, thinking how young she was and how we had just patched things up. Coop would be devastated. My thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of Brooklyn Phillips crying.
“Jim! Let me see Brooklyn, please!” I yelled.
I waited for almost ten minutes and listened to the child’s racking cries before I caught just the glimpse of her head peering down at me from the top of the falls where Naomi was hanging. I looked up at her and yelled.
“Brooklyn! I’m going to help you, okay? Can you be a big girl for me? Please!”
She just cried harder; that was one of my less brilliant moves. She knew I couldn’t help her. She saw me dirty, bloody, and crying on the ground below. She also knew what was waiting for me on the top. I sat there waiting for my next instructions.
Brooklyn’s sobs dissipated, and Naomi still hung from the cliff. I tried hard to see if there was anything that indicated she was still alive, but she was too high. She had been thrown from the highest ridge of the falls, well over one hundred feet up. That was where Jim Carlson and Brooklyn Phillips were located.
At that point, I couldn’t believe Coop hadn’t gotten his message yet. I knew once he did he would, hopefully, figure it out. He would know he and Naomi hadn’t broken up and that she wasn’t suicidal. He would have to know it was all a setup involving Carlson and he’d tell Michael. I imagined them charging down the trail any minute. But that still had not happened. And I was afraid it never would.
It was quiet. I heard crickets, birds, and the slight trickle of water running over the falls. Usually, these were some of the most soothing sounds of the forest. They weren’t soothing now. The quiet was terrifying. My biggest fear was that Jim Carlson had a gun and had me in his sights, ready to shoot any minute. I had no idea where he was, but he knew exactly where I was. The doll lay next to me about three feet away. Carlson eventually broke the silence.
“Okay, CeeCee,” he called down. “I think I’ve given you enough time to catch your breath. Now, grab Elsa and climb the ridge to your left. When you get to the top, wait.”
I looked at the ridge to my left. It would be a hell of a climb, and I didn’t know if I was in the shape to do it, especially lugging the doll named Elsa. Making it more problematic was my paralyzing fear of heights. I suffered from severe vertigo when I got more than ten feet above the ground. Plus, the ridge itself wasn’t more than a couple feet wide on that side, and I could easily fall off under the best of circumstances.
Frighteningly, finding myself once more with no option, I grabbed the doll and began to climb.
On the other side, where Jim and Brooklyn were located, there were crude steps cut into the rock that made it easier to climb. On this side, it was nothing but rock and tree roots. I had taken the doll’s shoelaces and tied the doll to the back of my belt so I could use both my hands. Elsa was now bouncing back and forth behind me, a grisly reminder of what was ahead.
I started climbing, grabbing each root and rock along the way for support. If I looked down, I was done for. Though my clothing was comfortable, the chunky heels on my boots were making it difficult to get my footing, and I was certain I would plummet to my death on the rocks below. When I got to the last root and began to pull myself up, I couldn’t believe I’d actually made it.
I faced the rock and the woods, with my back toward the ridge. If I turned around I would instantly get dizzy and start to lose my balance. As it was, my legs were already shaky from the run and the climb.
“Turn around, CeeCee!”
I couldn’t do it. Just thinking about it made the vertigo creep in, and I remained as I was.
“I said, turn around!” Carlson yelled. I heard Brooklyn cry out in pain.
I managed to turn and saw Jim Carlson and Brooklyn Phillips across the falls. In a small clearing next to a large rock, Brooklyn was on her knees. She was still wearing the white T-shirt she’d had on when she disappeared, and she had not stopped crying. Carlson had the back of her hair and was pulling it to make her scream. The rope holding Naomi was tied to a large pine directly behind the rock. Jim started to pull Brooklyn toward the edge of the falls.
“No! Okay! I’m turned around!” I screamed.
He stopped. My mistake was to look down. The only thing that prevented me from falling over the side was dropping to my knees and grabbing the ground. My vision seemed to turn upside down, along with my stomach. I closed my eyes.
“Stand up and look at me, goddamn it! Do it or she dies!”
I bit into my lip so hard I tasted blood. This was enough to allow me to stand back up, but not enough to take the dizziness away. I leaned back against the rock, focusing across the falls at him and Brooklyn instead of looking down.
“Now, walk around the edge of the ridge to me.”
He could have easily had me climb up on his side, but no, he wanted to play games. Every obscenity in the English language went through my head right then. I swore if I got the chance, I would make Jim Carlson suffer the most painful death imaginable.
Looking across, I could see a smirk on his face. He knew this was difficult for me, but how in the world did he know I was scared of heights? I tried to remember any interviews I’d given about the Murder Mountain case, but couldn’t recall the subject of heights ever coming up. But he knew just the same.
I started to sidestep, slowly, along the ridge. The doll kept dragging and bouncing behind me. With each step, I took a deep breath and continued to look at Jim Carlson, my anger forcing me along one step at a time.
I was halfway around when my foot slipped. A loose rock had given way, causing me to skid forward to the edge of the falls. At the last moment, I grabbed a tree root that kept me from plunging over completely. My legs and the doll dangling over the side, I hoisted myself back up. I curled up into a ball and held on to the root with everything I had, near total panic. I heard Jim Carlson laughing.
“Whoops! Almost gotcha, didn’t it? Get moving!”
I stood again, trying to regain my balance and composure before moving once more. Now he upped the ante. He had a bucket in front of him. He pulled something out of it and threw it at me.
It took a couple of more throws before I realized he was throwing mice. Jim Carlson had uncovered my fear of all fears. Mice weren’t rats, but they damn sure were close enough. Jim Carlson knew all about the rats. It was not hard to do since it was in every single article written about the happenings on Murder Mountain. I remember articles where I was quoted saying I could never look at a rat or a mouse again without becoming hysterical.
But I was managing quite nicely, considering the circumstances, even able to use my foot to push
the mice off the ledge, whenever one landed on it.
But it was the one that hit me on top of the head, before climbing down to my back and getting caught in my hair, that almost made me lose my life. The familiar squirm and squeal of a rodent flying about my head did it. I bit my lip again, tears uncontrollably running down my face, and slowly reached behind my head to grab the mouse. I used every ounce of will to keep from going into total, blind panic. When I was able to grab the mouse, it began biting me while I pulled it from my hair. I opened my hand and let it fall to its death.
I stood still, beginning to cry again while more mice pelted me. If one more got stuck in my hair, I honestly didn’t think I would have the strength to keep myself from becoming totally unglued. I wanted Michael desperately. If he saw what Jim Carlson was doing to me, Naomi, and Brooklyn right now, he would kill him with his bare hands.
“Keep going!”
How many mice are in that bucket? I thought. He had thrown at least thirty so far. As if someone from above were graciously looking down on me, the mice quit coming. I breathed a loud sigh of relief, but I couldn’t imagine what he had for me next.
As I got closer to his side, and Naomi, I heard her moan. She was alive. Barely, I’m sure, but the fact was she was breathing. I didn’t say anything to her. I didn’t want any attention drawn to her. I hoped he thought she was dead. If he did, I wanted to keep it that way. With any luck, she wouldn’t make any more sounds.
I came around the curve of the ledge and saw Naomi tilting her head, looking up at me, breathing hard and moaning softly. I tried to give her a look that would make her keep quiet but, as usual, Jim beat me to the punch.
“Don’t bother. I know she’s alive, and there’s a reason for that, Cecelia. A reason you’ll soon find out. Keep going!”
I tried to give Naomi a reassuring smile, but it was impossible. The look of terror on my face wasn’t going away anytime soon. Likely, it would get worse, especially, when I came to the break in the ridge. There was an approximate two-foot gap along the lip of the ridge. Not a large one, but I would have to make a small jump. If I didn’t land right, down I’d go. Way down. I didn’t know how I would manage to do it with that damn doll hanging behind me. It would be easier if I could face the rock, but Carlson wouldn’t let that happen. Every time I tried to turn around, he’d scream at me.
Brooklyn looked terrified. She’d quit crying when the mice throwing started. The look on her face told me she didn’t think I was going to make it. I have to admit, my own outlook on the situation didn’t appear very bright either.
My knuckles were bloody from digging into the rock behind me to keep my balance. When I got to the gap I didn’t stop, because if I did, I wouldn’t have had the guts to continue. I took a small hop sideways and made the gap, saying a silent thank you before moving on.
I thought about the situation. It was my choice to be here. I could’ve walked away, saved myself, and let Naomi and Brooklyn die. However, I never could’ve lived with that. I was here to help them, and that was exactly what I would do. Thinking about this gave me the courage to make the final thirty or so feet of the ledge.
I was about fifteen feet away from Carlson and Brooklyn when he told me to stop, which I did with no problem. The clearing was nearby now and the ledge had widened considerably. There was room enough to do a cartwheel if I wanted.
This was the first time I had seen Jim Carlson in person. As I stood looking closely at him, I noticed his face was very odd. It looked slightly deformed, or crooked. I remembered his driver’s license photo, but didn’t recall noticing the oddness of his face the way I did now.
“Congratulations, Cecelia. You made it. Now sit down.” I sat, and he smiled. “Tell me who I am.”
“James Carlson,” I answered.
He began to howl with that disturbing laughter of his. In fact, he actually bent over, slapping a knee before falling to the ground on both of them, all the while clutching his stomach. After he calmed down, he stood and pointed at me, snickering.
“I beat you! I did it! I beat Detective Cecelia Catherine Gallagher! Whooee!” He started jumping around. “I knew I was smarter than all of you, and I’ve just proved it. You ignorant bitch! I gave you every opportunity under the sun to catch me and you didn’t! How does that make you feel, Cecelia? Incompetent? Worthless? It should! Oh, you made me want to kill you with my bare hands and now you’re here. You just needed a little coaxing, is all.”
He stopped dancing and turned around. Now his look was serious. No laughing. Not even the hint of a smile.
Jim reached up to his face, and began to peel off the latex nose that covered his own. Then he took off his wig, revealing the thinning gray hair underneath. Next were the mustache and the glasses. He must have been wearing brown contact lenses, but he left them in.
Standing before me was none other than Carl James Malone. Still reeling from shock, I began to put the pieces together. I cursed myself and every other investigator who’d worked the case. It was the obvious answer, and we had overlooked it. The simplest part of the investigation is always connected with its outcome. That was the standard. What a bunch of buffoons we were.
Carl Malone had every right to be proud. He had beaten us. The name alone was cause enough for me to turn my badge in. If I made it out of there alive, that was. James Carlson. Carl James Malone. How could I have missed it?
I thought back to the first time I ever talked to Carl. He said he had retired a little less than a year before. Obviously, he could no longer choose his victims while traveling. Knowing his time was nearing an end and knowing he could never suppress his urges and rage, he planned carefully, very carefully. He chose me (I still didn’t know why, and now I probably never would), did research and had the entire case mapped out minute by minute. All the while he strung us along, laughed at us, and brought us here to this very moment, at this very place. He was right; he had won.
I think, in time, I would’ve figured out that the Bible passage meant Lyon’s Falls. And into the den did Daniel fall; the one part of the passage that was made up lurched out and slapped me in the face, and I had ignored it.
Carl Malone knew I would’ve figured it out, too. He just didn’t have the patience to wait. He saw his victory in dreams and was beginning to taste it. That was where Naomi came in.
Carl Malone planned on dying today. I also knew he planned on taking me, Brooklyn, and Naomi with him. He would go down in a blaze of glory, taking the gun-totin’ CeeCee Gallagher with him. I had been right about one thing: I was Daniel.
I thought back to when I had broken into his house. There was always something that bothered me a little, and now I knew why. Carl had said his wife died recently, but there was not one picture of her in the house. I chalked it up to a grieving widow at the time and never gave it much thought after that. Another admonishment to myself.
“You were never married, were you, Carl?”
He laughed again. “Only to Elsa, my dear. Only Elsa.” His smile faded. “Give her to me now.”
I untied the doll from behind me. When Carl got a full view of it, he began to shake, and his eyes welled up. He ripped the doll from my hands, crouching over with it wrapped in his arms.
“Oh my baby! Did she hurt you? Daddy missed you. I’ll never let this happen again!”
I thought now was a good a time as any to make a move. The best course of action would be to grab Brooklyn and run. Cautiously and quietly, I took one step to his side before he stood up straight, gun in hand and pointed it at me. The gun must’ve been tucked in his pants. I knew I hadn’t see it earlier.
“Don’t even think about it, Detective! We’re not done yet. Now sit down! I’ve waited twenty-six years for this. I won’t let it happen again!”
I hadn’t a clue what he was talking about, but there had to be a way out of this. Outside of a miracle or the spot Carl was standing on crumbling away, I couldn’t see one.
“Why the kids, Carl? How many children are there
?” I wanted to keep him talking.
“Why? You know why! You all say I’m sick, that’s why!” He walked over to Brooklyn and I honest to God thought he was going to shoot her. He only patted her hair. “I lost count around twenty-five or thirty. I had hoped that you would’ve been smart enough to stop me, Cecelia, but you weren’t! You stupid, wretched bitch.”
He was losing it totally now, walking in a circle and reciting nursery rhymes. Brooklyn started to cry again, and I shook my head at her to stop.
“Shut up! Shut up, you little bitch!” he screamed in Brooklyn’s face. It worked; she was too startled to cry. “The dolls, oh my precious dolls. They were so good for me for such a long time, but the feelings came back and I couldn’t be completely satisfied. My father”—he started swinging at the air—“my father should’ve had dolls. He liked little boys, though, little boys like me!” By now he was no longer in touch with reality.
I had to do something, and the only thing I could do was to grab Carl Malone’s doll.
“What are you doing? Put her down!” He looked ill.
I threw the doll as hard as I could over the edge of the falls. Carl started screaming at the top of his lungs before he stopped and smiled again. He was uncomfortably, then frighteningly, calm.
“It doesn’t matter now, does it? We’ll be together in the end, and that’s what’s most important. Come over here, Cecelia, and kneel down.”
He pointed with his gun at a spot about three feet away from Brooklyn and about two feet away from the rope holding Naomi.
“Face the edge.”
Carl walked behind me, and I braced myself to get shot execution style in the back of the head. I closed my eyes as I felt the blow hit me, knocking me forward onto the ground. I lay there for a few seconds, feeling the warm blood run down my face, and I realized I was still alive.
I began to sit up, instinctively putting my hand to my head to feel the large welt from where Carl had smashed me with a rock. He’d hit me high on the head, and the blood was pouring down my face and into my eyes. The wound didn’t hurt all that much, but when I looked down at myself, I was covered with blood.
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