The Devil's Closet (17 page)

I had to call Michael. By this time, I didn’t care how I would explain being in here, but I needed help. When I opened my phone and turned it on, the light from the screen lit up the entire closet. My hands were shaking so hard I had a difficult time dialing. I could hear the person, who I assumed was Jim Carlson, our killer, moving around the room on the other side of the door.

When I finally was able to dial, Michael didn’t let me down. He answered on the first ring. The time on the phone display showed I was almost four hours overdue.

“Michael!” I whispered loud enough for him to hear me.

“CeeCee, where the hell are you—”

“Michael, listen to me!” As much as I tried, it was impossible not to sound hysterical. “I’m in trouble and I need help, I’m at—”

The person in the room began to open the closet door. I had no choice but to close my phone, hanging up on Michael before I was able to give him the address. I could stand up and take Carlson at gunpoint, but I would probably go to jail, none of the evidence would be admissible, the killer would go free, and Brooklyn would die.

Light flooded the closet, and I crawled farther into my hole, praying he wouldn’t find me.

“Oh, dear, how’d you fall down, darling?” The man spoke in the familiar-sounding, gruff voice I’d heard on the phone.

At first I thought he was talking to me, but after hearing him set the gothic doll upright, I realized he was talking to it.

“My beautiful girl, I missed you. I know Daddy’s been gone, but I’ll make it up to you.” He paused. “Oh, no, please don’t cry. I promise I’ll be back soon. It’s almost over, my love, don’t worry.”

I wished I could get a look at his face, but if I tried, I risked getting caught.

“I have to go now, my love. I had to come back to see you, but I’ll be back again soon. I love you now and forever.”

I heard him kiss the doll, a loud exaggerated smack.

The man turned the light off and closed the door. I breathed an enormous sigh of relief. But he didn’t leave right away. It was another half an hour before I heard the door shut and the truck start. I waited yet another fifteen minutes before I felt safe enough to leave the closet. Michael was probably beside himself.

I hoped I hadn’t left too much evidence of myself in the closet. The clothes I had on were going to burn as soon as I got home, and I couldn’t wait to scrub the urine from my hand. Urine from one of the recent victims, no doubt. The killer had kept them in the closet for a short time. Unfortunately, Brooklyn wasn’t there, which wasn’t a good sign.

Outside, the night air felt wonderful. I was literally soaked with sweat, my hair dripping. With the gothic doll tucked under one arm and my retrieved bag of tools in the other, I quickly made it back to my car.

I threw the doll and my bag in the trunk and took off. Just as I turned the corner to drive home, I was unnerved to see the black pickup truck pulling back into the driveway. My headlights were still off, so I drove away quickly.

The killer had come back for something. Whatever it was, he’d discover his favorite doll gone and it would push him over the edge. I hoped he’d be willing to make a trade.

Back at my house, I took a long shower, feeling as if I could not get clean. Then I bagged up all my clothes, threw them into the backyard fire pit, and lit it. I had removed the photo, ribbons, insulation, and shoe.

These I placed in the bag of garbage I had taken earlier, crumpling up the photo before throwing it in. Then I put in the children’s catalog photo and paper with fingernail polish on it that I had legitimately found in the bag earlier. I tied the bag again, shook it, and put it in my trunk. Now it was time to deal with Michael.

I assumed he wasn’t at the hotel, so I called him first. As expected, he was extremely upset and worried.

“CeeCee, oh my God, are you OK? Where are you?”

“Michael, I’m fine, OK. I’m sorry I scared you earlier, my phone cut out and I didn’t have any service.”

“Scared me? We’ve got most of your department out looking for you! Where are you right now?”

“I’m headed toward the hotel.”

“I’ll let everyone know you’re OK, and I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I’m glad you’re OK, Cee. You scared the shit out of me.”

When we hung up, I couldn’t wait to see him. I had been terrified in that closet, and now all I wanted was to be safe in Michael’s arms. I knew I would have to listen to a horrific verbal lashing from him, but I would sit through it patiently. I held my hand in front of me and saw it was still trembling. I shook it, as if that would make any difference at all.

I was sitting on the bed at the hotel when Michael came barreling through the door and grabbed me, almost lifting me off the floor.

“Cee, I can’t tell you…” His head was buried in my shoulder, and it was hard to hear him. “I haven’t been that worried since Murder Mountain. Where were you? You’re shaking!” He pulled away and looked at me. “CeeCee, I keep begging you. Please tell me where you’ve been and what happened!”

He kept me close, his arm protectively around my waist. I told him the truth, at least up until the part where I broke into Jim Carlson’s house. I also omitted the break-in at Carl Malone’s house.

When I got to that part, I simply said I had been on surveillance, watching Jim Carlson’s house, and I was so upset when I called because while I was taking the man’s garbage, the truck came around the corner and I thought the driver saw me. Of course I doubted Michael would believe this story, but it was worth a shot.

Michael did look skeptical. “How did you know Carl Malone had rental properties?”

I anticipated this question. “When I looked into Carl Malone further, I checked with the auditor’s office to see if he owned any properties. That’s standard in investigations.”

I told Michael about the neighbor’s statements and the dark truck.

“It’s him, Michael. I know it. I haven’t had a chance to look through the garbage bag yet, since I had to get out of there, but there might be something. Believe me, he’s our killer.”

“You seem awfully confident.” He eyed me even more suspiciously. “You don’t have to lie to me, you know. If you think I would ever turn you in for something you did wrong—”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, and I’m not lying.”

I
wasn’t
lying. What I did was illegal, but if you asked anyone whether it was
wrong
, you’d probably get differing answers. Wrong was only a matter of opinion.

By then, it was only a couple of hours until morning. I paged the crime lab and told them to be in first to open and process the garbage bag. Then I ran out to my car to grab the information I had put together on Jim Carlson. I handed Michael the thin file.

“You didn’t find much on him, did you?” He flipped through the pages and looked at the photo I found from the Bureau of Motor Vehicles.

“Very inconspicuous. There’s an Indiana driver’s license, and, as you can see, it still has his old Indianapolis address. The photo matches the description his neighbor gave—tall, brown hair and a mustache, but that doesn’t fit with other witness descriptions. This guy’s very good at changing his appearance.”

“There’s also no pickup truck registered to him, Cee.”

As Michael looked attentively through each page, I found myself in deep admiration of him as a professional. Of course, his stunningly handsome looks didn’t hurt either. It took him a while to get through what little information there was, and I found my eyes getting heavy. The emotional letdown suddenly left me weak and exhausted.

The next thing I remember was waking up briefly to Michael covering me with a blanket, then lying down beside me, his arm tight around my waist. We had only slept a little over two hours before he was shaking me to wake up. I was drained, but knew it was vital we get to the garbage bag.

While driving to the department, I went back to thinking about the letter the killer had written to me. Under any circumstances, the letter was frightening, but there was one thing that stood out and bothered me most.

“Michael, did any of the agents come up with anything regarding the letter?”

“Not as far as I know, why?”

“We need to focus on the lions’ den.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The lions’ den. The entire letter focuses on the lions’ den.” I rolled my window down to get some air. “When we get to the lab, call your agents and have them track down anything they can find with the word
lion
in it. I don’t care if it’s a street, building, candy store, porno shop, or bookstore. I even want them to check out the schedules of the lions at both the Cleveland and Columbus zoos. I know that sounds ridiculous, but have them do it anyway.”

“Consider it done.”

I carried the garbage bag down to the lab, the whole while trying to mentally sharpen my acting abilities to show complete and utter surprise about the items found inside.

In the lab, a technician took the bag and placed it on a table. There were evidence bags and tags next to it in case there was anything of importance. I counted the bags to make sure there were at least four. He began by carefully cutting a slit in the bag from bottom to top.

I didn’t realize how fast my heart was beating, and I began to have serious doubts about my acting skills holding out much longer. The tech opened the bag and shook everything to the middle before laying it flat. The white My Size shoe sat on top of a piece of insulation.

“Oh, my God.” Michael said each word slowly and distinctly.

I saw him look at me, so I made an exaggerated gasping sound, putting my hands over my mouth to look like I was shocked. It took all I had to restrain from cracking a smile.

“I apologize. You were right, Cee.” He was shaking his head back and forth.

We watched as the tech placed the shoe and insulation into evidence bags. The process continued as he found the red ribbons, each of which were placed into a separate bag. When the tech got to the photo taken of Michael and me at the hotel, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep the charade going. Smoothing out the picture with his gloved hands, the tech stepped back so we could get a good look at it. Michael was outraged.

“That sick son of a bitch!”

I couldn’t act anymore. The garbage bag had served its purpose.

“Michael, call everyone and get the search warrant ready.”

He was already on the phone, rounding up the usual suspects. I told the sheriff we had our killer, without a doubt, but had to be very careful about nailing him if we hoped to find Brooklyn Phillips alive. I was hoping that taking his doll would buy Brooklyn some time. Of course there was always the possibility that it would backfire and he would kill her out of anger. I tried not to think about that.

It was going to take a little time to get the warrant ready and everyone together, so Michael and I headed up to my office. Passing Coop’s office, we saw the sheriff there and he congratulated us. He said Alex Phillips had been told the news.

“I hope he’s not getting his hopes up, Sheriff. You know the chances are slim his daughter is alive.”

“I know, but he has to be informed about every break we get. There’s still a way to go, but it’s better than nothing. Anyway, there’s a bit of brighter news, which is what I came up to tell you, CeeCee. The test scores are back. Congratulations, Sergeant.”

What was he talking about? Suddenly, my memory kicked into overdrive. Four months ago, I had taken the sergeant’s exam. I had put off trying to get promoted for years. Frankly I had no desire. But I got so sick of everyone badgering me, I caved and took the test. Then I forgot about it, until now.

I thought about it for a fleeting moment, though I know full well what my answer had to be.

“All right, I’ll take the job.”

They began clapping, which was embarrassing. When Michael and I got back to my office he shut the door and gave me a squeeze and a kiss.

“Congratulations, that’s great. I always wondered why you were never a ranking officer. We need to celebrate.”

I pulled away. “It’s really not that big of a deal. A sergeant is nothing but a glorified patrolman or detective. They’re the middleman, or as some like to say, the doormat between officer and lieutenant, a place to wipe your feet.”

In truth, the primary reason I accepted the position was because of the substantial pay raise. With an upcoming divorce and raising two kids, the extra cash would be important. I had also given a lot of thought to making lieutenant, which you can’t test for unless you’re a sergeant first.

“Come on, CeeCee. Why can’t you ever be happy for yourself once in a while? You’re so busy looking out for everyone else, you forget about what’s good for you.”

He was right, to an extent, but I was wired that way and had accepted it years ago. When I walked back down the hallway to grab a strong cup of coffee out of the vending machine, I automatically glanced back into Coop’s office. The sheriff was gone and Coop had his elbows on his desk, head propped up in his hands. I backed up and approached my old friend.

“Hey, you look like you’ve got a headache. I’ve got plenty of aspirin in my desk if you need it.”

Coop shook his head, but didn’t answer. This wasn’t the man I had known so well for twelve years, the one who could make a person laugh on the day of their own funeral. He had been acting weird lately, and now I was now going to butt in and get to the bottom of it.

“Coop, look at me.” He raised his head. “What in the hell has been wrong with you lately? Just so you know, I’m not leaving until you tell me.” I got comfortable in the chair in front of his desk and gave him a large “gotcha” smile. Which quickly faded once he spoke.

“Okay, I might as well tell you. Everyone will know about it soon enough I guess. Cindy and I are splitting up.”

I was more than shocked. Coop and Cindy had one of the best marriages I had ever seen. Of course, I thought Eric and I did too, but this information didn’t make any sense at all. They had two children around the same age as my own, and our families often did things together. I thought I knew him so well. How could I miss what must have been going on for a while? However, on the flip side, when I had told Coop that Eric and I were getting divorced, he didn’t seem surprised at all.

“Coop, what happened?” I was more than a little concerned. “Are you okay?”

He shook his head slightly. “There was a lot that happened. Something I couldn’t control, and there was no other option. I couldn’t hurt Cindy anymore.”

What he was talking about? I thought maybe he was insinuating an alcohol or drug addiction, but that wasn’t Coop.

“There must be something in the water around here lately,” I said softly. “Just the other day, Naomi was…” I stopped.

Oh, no. As soon as I said it, I saw Coop’s face. It was a split second of guilt that washed across his eyes, but I caught it instantly. And as I said the words everything clicked.

“Coop! Oh, my God. Naomi?”

He nodded and looked down. It all made sense now. I just never paid attention. I remember Naomi describing the “boyfriend” she was so broken up about and thinking briefly she was talking about Michael. That made sense because the two were pretty similar. Boy, was I wrong. Coop had been acting weird because he had tried to break it off with her, and that’s why she’d been such a mess that day.

“How long?” I asked, after my shock had worn off.

“Since Murder Mountain.”

My jaw dropped to the floor. That long? Despite my surprise, I also felt a little hurt. I honestly considered Coop one of the best friends I had. We told each other everything. The day I told him about Eric, I also told him about Michael, but he already knew. Why didn’t he confide in me about Naomi?

“Coop, why didn’t you ever tell me?”

He stood up and walked to his window. “Because I know how you feel about Naomi. I figured you’d tell me I must’ve snapped for being dumb enough to fall in love with her.”

I thought of the million times over the last year I had badmouthed Naomi to Coop. I called her the only captain that climbed the ladder while lying on her back, just to name one of my very witty retorts. He must’ve wanted to clean my clock daily.

“You’re right. There was a time I probably would’ve said that, but things have changed. Naomi and I have gotten along better. I’m getting to really like her.”

“I know. She told me. That was one of the best things that ever happened to her, CeeCee. You know that? She’s always admired you and wanted to be your friend. I know you never saw it, but she really is an amazing woman.” He looked back out the window.

“Look. Maybe I wasn’t that great of a friend to you, after all. You should’ve felt like you could tell me anything and I would’ve understood.” I felt horrible.

I remember Naomi saying something similar about me biting her head off if she ever told me about the Eric and Jordan rumors. I know there are other people around here who think I’m an uncompassionate bitch. Now I was starting to believe it myself.

I walked over to Coop, gave him a large hug, and softly kissed his cheek.

“Just tell me. Does she make you happy, Coop?”

“Yes, CeeCee, she does, and I’m in love with her.”

“Then that’s all that matters. You’ll get through this, and I’m here if you need me.”

Coop seemed truly grateful for my good wishes and thanked me by hugging me back, but I still felt bad. I always seemed to be so consumed with my own life.

“What’s going on here?”

Coop and I turned to see Michael standing in the doorway.

“I think I’m jealous,” he joked.

Neither Coop nor I felt it right to continue talking about Naomi, so Michael’s arrival was a good excuse to get back to business. Coop really did need to prepare for the search warrant, and he eagerly started shuffling papers. I think I had made him feel better. He was in higher spirits once he got he got the news about his new relationship out in the open.

There was a surprise waiting for me when I got back to my own office.

“What happened with Coop?” Michael asked curiously.

“His wife and he are splitting up.”

“I’m assuming he told you about Naomi?”

I was floored. “You knew about it! How did you know?”

“CeeCee, it’s been obvious since the day I came back, and I was always surprised you never picked up on it. Coop admitted it to me a couple of days ago since he figured I knew anyway.”

How much did I hate feeling left out of things or not being smart enough to pick up on them on my own?

“Michael, can I ask you something?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

I threw my pen at him. “Please, listen. Do you think I’m a
difficult
person to talk to or, let’s say, reason with?”

He started laughing so hard and loud I thought he was going to fall over and hit the desk. I hadn’t said that to be the day’s comedy act, and his reaction had me a little miffed. When he saw the glowering look on my face, he tried to get serious.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that, oh, how do I say this? As much as I love you with everything I have, you
do
have a very
strong
personality. What I mean is, you never think twice about telling someone
exactly
what you think. To some people, a person like that is scary. Others are put off by it. To me, of course, it is an extremely attractive and very sexy trait.”

“Thanks a lot.” Though he was smiling, I wasn’t.

Michael made a few calls to make sure the search warrant and teams were ready to go. Again, we would be meeting at an undisclosed location to avoid media coverage until we were ready. We’d meet behind a family-owned grocery store a block away from Jim Carlson’s house.

When Michael and I pulled around back at the meeting point, I saw we were the last ones there. Before we went over the game plan with everyone, it took a few minutes to get their attention. Most of the agents and police officers were rowdy, anxious to break down the door of a child killer. Agents and police officers would secure a perimeter around the house, while the SWAT team gained entry and cleared the place. An arrest warrant for Jim Carlson was also issued. If he was in there, we’d put him into custody immediately.