Her brother Ted was there, although when he came up to Glory and Michael to pay his condolences, Michael visibly struggled to control his disgust and anger. This wasn’t the place to fight with Ted. It would be disrespectful to Olivia.
Glory allowed Ted to take her hand and hug her. She didn’t hug him back as he sobbed into her shoulder saying over and over, “I’m sorry, so sorry.”
Glory could feel a numbness begin its slow descent over her, the numbness she’d fought against throughout her life, now welcome. She had no words for her brother. None.
Another oddity was that there wasn’t any sign of the black cloaked, green-eyed, skull of the Reaper. She’d thought for sure he would show his face now when she was at her most vulnerable, but he didn’t.
Perhaps, like the king on the chess board, he felt he’d reached the “end game” with her. That he, the king, had come out to fight and had won.
Chapter 12
Olivia had died in June. As the months passed, summer gave way to autumn, but none of it mattered; Glory was never fully present in any of the passing seasons. She hadn’t been to work in over three months now and still she requested a longer leave of absence. She lived each day unfeeling, dead inside, in a drug induced emotional coma.
She’d become fully dependent on the Xanax and Clonopin and took them in ever increasing amounts. Ironically, she’d started taking drugs to get over a loss due to drugs. She no longer wanted to feel the pain of loss, which she’d experienced so much of in her life. She was tired of losing so many loved ones, tired of grieving, tired of living period. Still, as weary of life as she’d become, she was still afraid to die. She just wanted it all to go away. To wake up on a sunny morning and hear Mickey and Olivia arguing over the bathroom as they got ready for school.
She and Michael were becoming distant. Why couldn’t he see how much she needed him? Probably because he was grieving so deeply himself he had nothing to give to her, or Mickey. Nor had she told him she needed him. Glory knew what losing a child could do to a marriage, had seen it in other families, even read about it in psychology books; the couple could no longer stand to look at each other. In many cases, it was the beginning of the end for the marriage. It was unimaginable that this could happen to their marriage. It terrified her to think they might become one of the sad statistics, a cliché even of a couple who could no longer bear to be in the same house together. Each walled off by his or her own guilt, and sadness.
While Glory wallowed in self-pity, Michael stayed out taking long rides and harboring his hatred of Sean and his grief for Olivia.
His jaw line remained firm and tense all the time and though she was worried about him, all efforts to console him were rejected. He barely looked her in the eye anymore. He was lost; that was certain. They both needed each other, but couldn’t make that connection, the one they’d taken for granted they’d always have.
It seemed she had nothing left to give to her family, nothing they wanted. Even Mickey stayed out late with his friends, not wanting to be in the house anymore either. Who could blame him, really? His parents had become emotional zombies.
She knew that all she cared about could be taken away at any time by a God that she’d come to hate for his cruelty, his lack of intervention on behalf of her daughter, and the evil he’d allowed to come into their home. At other times, she didn’t believe he was there at all. Yes, that made more sense. But, somehow, hating God felt better than the thought of being truly all alone with no meaning to any of it. No meaning to life at all. Couldn’t the Grim Reaper himself just as easily have been the very angel of death?
Glory’s brother Ted had been calling and leaving messages on their answering machine for months after Olivia died.
The messages were long litanies full of drunken self-loathing at first. However, as time went on, he’d ask if they knew where Sean was. No one in the house picked up the phone and the messages were promptly deleted. None of them ever returned any of his calls.
Sean had been missing since the day after Olivia died. At first, Ted must not have been too concerned. Sean was known to disappear, sometime for weeks on end, without contacting his dad. But now it had been months with not a word from him.
Finally, Michael couldn’t stand it any longer; he picked up Ted’s call.
Glory lay on the couch, wrapped in an afghan blanket Joan had made for her many years ago; Haley was curled up in a contented “doggie” ball next to her.
Michael listened intently for what seemed like forever.
“When was this? Where’d they find him? You…what? Are you fuckin’serious? I had nothin’ to do with this. I can’t believe you’d think I did!” Michael said angrily. “I’m a cop for Chrissakes!
Motive? You bet your ass I had motive. Your son dragged my daughter down with him and…it killed her. For all I know, he put the needle in her arm. But…I didn’t hurt him!”
Glory could only hear one half of the conversation. Her curiosity got the better of her. She struggled out of the blankets and picked up the phone extension in the master bedroom.
“Well somebody shot him, and a gut shot at that, someone who wanted Sean to die a slow, painful death.” Ted was screaming at Michael.
They’d found him in Charlestown, floating in the Mystic River.
“Do you have any idea of how that body looked when they dragged him outta there? I couldn’t even…recognize him. Had to identify him by his fingerprints from the skin that…that…slid off his hands!” His voice broke.
Michael was well aware of what a body looked like when it came out of the water after even a short period of time. He’d only seen one “floater” in his career and it was the most sickening sight he’d ever seen. If the body was submerged in cold water, such as the Mystic, decomposition was slower than in warmer waters.
However, even in the icy waters of the Mystic, in as little as three weeks, the body tissue would convert to “adipocere,” a compound that stopped the activity of bacteria. It appeared as a greasy, soapy, yellow-white substance, which formed on the fatty parts of the body such as the cheeks, abdomen wall, and buttocks. And the smell! It has a very distinct, strong, musty odor. Because so long a period had gone by before Sean had been found, he would have been bloated from the formation of bacterial gas. The body would’ve turned to a greenish black, making identification difficult. The skin and hair would slip off. Due to the “gloving” of the hands and feet in which the skin fell off, intact fingerprints could be obtained from the “gloves.” It was gruesome to say the least. Michael shuddered at the thought.
“You fuckin’ did it, didn’t you, Michael? Admit it, you and my high an’ mighty sister who never does anything wrong. Mr. and Mrs. Fuckin’ Perfect! You’re a murderer!”
“Ted, calm down.” Michael’s anger dissipated and turned to sympathy.
Glory dared not speak; she was shocked at this latest twist in an already horrendous situation.
She knew Michael couldn’t take Sean’s life because he’d suffered the most unendurable of losses, that of their own child.
“I didn’t do this, Ted. I couldn’t. At first I blamed Sean, but I realized after a while that Olivia did what she did of her own free will. Maybe his friends know something about it. The crowd he hung out with wasn’t exactly the cream of society.” Michael still sounded calm, but a subtle hint of sarcasm crept into his voice.
“You miserable bastard! I don’t for one minute believe you’re not involved in this somehow! I have to go down to the morgue and sign papers for an autopsy. You can bet your ass I’ll have a lot to tell the police about you as soon as I’m done there.” With that, he hung up the phone.
Glory was aware that all suspicious deaths required an autopsy by law, but still, the thought of it made her ill.
Was this the justice that God had doled out in his infinite wisdom, or had Michael played a part in Sean’s death? She couldn’t believe that Michael was even capable of such a thing, but she had to ask.
“Michael
? Did you…were you involved in this in any way?” she asked, dreading the answer.
Michael’s back was to her. She couldn’t see his face as he hung up the phone.
“No, Glory. I didn’t do it.” He spoke in a calm and even tone of voice.
“Then look at me. I need you to look me straight in the eye and tell me you didn’t do this!”
He turned to her, held her face tenderly in his big, rough hands, looked her directly in the eye, and shook his head.
“No, Glory. I could never live with myself if I had. You should know me beddah than that after all these years.”
At that point, Glory wasn’t sure that she knew anyone or anything anymore.
“But your anger, Michael. You’ve been…different. I don’t know where you go on those long drives you take. No one knows where you are or what you’re doing. How do I know you didn’t just…go down there one night and shoot him? We have guns in the house, so…”
“I’m really hurt that you think I could do that. Sean is still blood. Whatever else he was, he’s still your brother’s son!”
She looked deep into his eyes and still was unable to detect anything that would lead her to believe he was anything but innocent. “I believe you. So…what are we going to do?” Glory asked. “Ted will tell the police it was you, and they’ll come here for sure.”
The thought of the police coming to their door brought back memories of that sun-filled nightmare of a day when the two officers had come to bring them the news of Olivia’s death.
“I’ll tell them the truth. They don’t even know how long the body was there and I work nights, so I have an alibi.”
“Michael, where were you all the times you weren’t home or at work? I need to know.”
“I was at the cemetery, visiting my mother and tellin’ her my feelings about Olivia…and yes, about my anger with Sean…and Ted. It made me feel beddah. Sometimes I sat in the grass next to my parents’ gravestones for hours, sipping hot coffee and just talkin’. I thought…maybe Mom and Dad were able to hear me. Thought if I listened close enough, I just might get some answers, some peace.”
“And did you find any answers?”
“No. But I did find a little peace.”
“Why couldn’t you talk to me about it?”
“Glory, I know you’re suffering with this as much as me, and then with the drugs you’re takin’…Well…it’s like you aren’t here and I’m…afraid to push you over the edge. And then there’s the whole death phobia and that premonition you had in North Conway, like you knew somethin’ bad was gonna happen and I…got mad at you. I shoulda listened, although I don’t suppose it would’ve made any difference. She was probably already dead by then.”
Glory felt an unwelcome emotion climbing up through her drug ridden numbness; failure. She’d failed her family at a time when they needed her. This time, she hadn’t been able to tap into her inner strength and get past her own grief to take care of them.
She was ashamed at her own self-absorption and lack of consideration for Michael and Mickey’s pain. Ashamed that she’d even for one moment entertained the notion that Michael had murdered their nephew.
“Michael,” she said timidly, “I don’t wanna end up one of those couples whose marriage fails after the death of a child. I…love you, can’t imagine my life without you. And I need you. Please, tell me you still feel the same way.”
Michael was silent for a moment before answering, as if what he had to say would cause them both pain.
“I haven’t been able to…look at you, Glory. Because…every time I look at your face, I see Olivia’s. She looked like you, yah know?” His voice trembled with emotion.
He sank to the couch, his misery palatable. Glory tenderly put her arms around him. He rested his head in her lap and bawled. She stroked his hair quietly, tenderly.
“I’ll always love you, Glory. We’ll get through this…together, just like always.”
When Glory looked away from Michael, there was Mickey standing stock still in front of them, tears falling silently on his cheeks. He came to his mother as well, resting his head on her shoulder. They stayed like that for what seemed the longest time, comforting each other. Glory, without tears, was the strength for both of them, taking care of her family because that was her job, and she wouldn’t fail them ever again.
Chapter 13
At dawn the following morning, the police came to the door and took Michael with them to answer questions concerning Sean’s death.
The CSI team assigned to the case placed the time of death at somewhere between the twelfth and the twentieth of June. Cause of death was a single gunshot wound to the abdomen, taken at close range by a powerful handgun.
There wasn’t any real physical evidence except for the bullet; no murder weapon was found. Forensics was running tests to see what type of gun it came from. Michael was asked to take a polygraph test.
He called home from the Boston police station and asked for Glory and Mickey’s opinion about taking the test.
Glory told him to take it, whereas Mickey was somewhat hesitant about it.
“I don’t know, Dad. The test is ninety percent accurate, so there is still a ten percent chance that an innocent person can fail it.”
“Mickey, I didn’t do this. I swear! I did not kill him!” Michael was adamant that he was innocent.
“Ted is here waiting in the hallway. He says if I pass the test, that’ll satisfy him.” He sighed. “I guess I’ll have to take the test.”
“Okay, Michael. Do what you have to do,” Glory said. “And…Michael? We love you. We’ll be right here waitin’ for you.”
After hanging up the phone, she sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee for hours. Mickey sat across from her playing Solitaire while Haley lay under the table. All of them were waiting; waiting for their lives to be either redeemed or torn to shreds.
Finally, as the early evening twilight made its way through the pines, the back door opened and Michael was home.
“I passed the test,” he said without emotion, as if he wasn’t talking about a test that could have ruined all of their lives.
Glory noticed the weary lines around his eyes and mouth that had begun to appear after Olivia’s death, now even more pronounced.
Life, sometimes beautiful and full of joy, seemed more often than not full of sorrow and loss, seemed to be ceaselessly riding them bareback, like a parasite they could not shake free of. It was taking its toll on all of them.
Suffering was often thought to be character building, but Glory knew better. Suffering was easy in comparison to continuing to live, to find joy, to be grateful for what one still had, even in the face of enormous adversity. If she and her family could do that in the face of the many hardships they’d endured, then they’d truly have strength of character.
Michael and Glory were still relatively young by the day’s standards, but with every loss, they died a little bit too. Their identities were linked to those who took the journey of life with them and when one of them was gone, a part of them disappeared too.
Glory and Mickey were both relieved by this news, although they never doubted Michael, but still, they’d endured so much in the past few years it was as though there was a black cloud hanging over their heads. Of course, Glory would let her imagination work overtime, and she knew who and what was hanging over their heads. Not a black cloud, but the scythe of the Grim Reaper himself. No one believed her, but she knew. She was certain that one day, she’d be forced to confront him once and for all. The final strategy of the game; winner take all.
She’d always felt deep down that she’d have to somehow pay for the happiness she’d found in her adulthood with Michael and her family, the happiness that had eluded her as a child.
Olivia was to be admired for her ability to love as well as she had. It came so natural to her, unlike Glory.
“You passed the lie detector test, which proves you didn’t do it, right?” Mickey asked.
; “Yeah, I guess. But still…I dunno. I feel like this isn’t ovah.”
“Seriously, Dad, unless you’re a sociopath, the test would not be that easy to pass. I looked up polygraphs on Google and found out that it is pretty much useless against the criminal mind. Sociopaths could probably pass it because they can convince themselves that the lies they tell are the truth. But a regular person? Not so easy to do.”
“What did Ted say, Michael? Was it enough for him to let this go…at least as far as you’re concerned?” Glory hoped her brother would leave them alone now.
“Yeah, he shook my hand and said he was sorry. That he was so full of anger and grief over what happened to Sean. I told him I understood exactly how he felt. I won’t say we parted friends. I think we both knew that things could never be the same between us again. If I don’t see him again for the rest of my life, it’ll be too soon.”
According to the police report, the bullet that had killed Sean came from a .357 Magnum, but they were unable to locate the gun. Without any probable cause, they couldn’t obtain a search warrant for their home or vehicles. Glory knew exactly what guns Michael owned and a Magnum was not among them.
Ted never called them with the funeral arrangements for Sean, nor did they call to ask. Michael and Glory thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie and to stay away. They sent flowers to Ted’s home out of respect and left it at that.
In the end, with no tangible physical evidence, the case remained unsolved.
During that time, Sean’s death and Michael’s implication in it only compounded the sorrow of their daughter’s death. Where had their perfect life gone? Why them? Why her family?
Day to day living without Olivia was difficult. Glory would see another girl, perhaps with her coloring, her height, her hair, that reminded her of Olivia. She’d feel the sting of loss as fresh as it had been when she’d died.
She spent a great deal of time at her grave, talking, crying, and cursing God for taking her from them. If indeed God actually existed. Her faith in God was slowly but surely eroding and she did nothing to sustain it.
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