The Devil's Closet (21 page)

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.

“That’s for Elsa, you little whore!”

I tried to wipe the blood out of my eyes, but it seemed to keep coming. I tilted my head up, which helped considerably. It didn’t last long.

Carl grabbed me by my hair and dragged me to the falls’ edge, forcing me to look way down at the ground below. The blood started to pour down my face again. I lost it and began to scream, thinking he was going to throw me off.

“Understand? Any more pranks and down you go!”

I saw Naomi looking up at me, struggling. If she was smart she’d stay still. The rope holding her didn’t look too sturdy and she’d never survive the fall if it broke. She quit moving and her head bobbed forward. I thought she passed out again, which was probably for the best.

Carl pulled me backward, dragging me to the spot where he had hit me. Brooklyn started crying again. I needed to calm down for her sake as much as my own.

“What do you want, Carl? Me? I’ll stay. Just, please, let Brooklyn and Naomi go.”

He squatted down, getting an inch away from my face. The stench of his breath made me lean back before he jerked my head and brought me forward again.

“No, Cecelia, we’re going to finish this. All of us. Just like I planned. Now, I want you to scoot forward to right here. Stay kneeling. Do it.”

Using his gun again, he pointed to a spot about three feet from the edge. Obeying, I moved and found I could see over the edge, just slightly.

However, it was just enough that I had a full view of Michael climbing up the large sandstone rock that was the core of the formation at the bottom. My heart went into a spasm. I tried to look away quickly before Carl saw my face, but he put his gun to my temple immediately.

“Stop where you are, Agent! I’m so glad you could be here for the finale, but unfortunately, you only get to sit back and watch.”

At that point, Michael had a clear view of what was happening and a look of horror flew across his face. I actually wasn’t in much pain, but with the amount of blood all over me, I knew I looked terrible.

“Motherfucker, when I get my hands on you—and I will, I promise—you will suffer!” Michael called up to him.

Carl merely laughed at Michael’s threats. Then I glimpsed Coop standing at the bottom of the sand rock where Michael had been. He was looking up at Naomi. There were only two other agents with them, and they stood at the end of the trail, guns drawn.

“You’re in no position to threaten me, Agent! Tell your other goons to toss their guns. You and your sidekick do the same. Do it. I said, do it.”

Michael nodded toward the other agents and watched as they all threw their guns into the woods or onto the rocks. However, I knew Michael and Coop carried backup weapons.

“Cee, you okay, baby?” Michael called up to me.

I nodded. Carl positioned himself next to the rock where Brooklyn was sitting, out of Michael’s view or anyone else that might be nearby. He sat quietly, humming to himself, before starting to belt out a series of nursery rhymes. His voice went from barely audible to loud and raucous in seconds.

I kept looking at Michael, wanting more than anything to hold him and find myself out of this mess. I desperately wanted to be with my girls, but had to drive the thought out of my head so I wouldn’t break down completely.

My mind was spinning. There had to be some way out. Snipers would work, but unless they were already on their way, it would be all over before they arrived. There was also no way a sniper could get into position without being seen by Carl. The only way would be to climb down the Clearfork Gorge about three hundred feet, and that would only be if they didn’t break their necks first. The killer definitely had all this planned down to the last detail way ahead of time.

I hadn’t realized Carl had stopped with his nursery rhymes until he was standing right in front of me. What was he going to do next?

Carl deliberately stood at an angle by the rock so Michael and Coop wouldn’t have a clear shot. He also had his gun six inches from my forehead.

“It’s time. Yes, now it’s time. It’s going to be you who will choose, Cecelia. You get to choose who dies first.”

I looked back down at Michael. He needed to do something fast. But what?