The Rapture of Omega Page 6

  R—

  Chapter Six

  After making a few phone calls, I heard from J. P. Sanders about funeral arrangements for Kelly Dixon. There weren’t any. No one had stepped forward and they weren’t going to wait any longer. I told him I would take care of it and remembered her autopsy report.

  “You got that for me, J.P.?”

  “Should be ready by tomorrow, I’ll deliver it personally.”

  “If you can, I want to see the report on the overdose from yesterday, too.”

  I had to leave early today, to go home to interview Rena Sanchez, so I spent the rest of my time making funeral arrangements for Kelly Dixon. I wanted her close to Lola, and I paid for everything. There would be a small service next week, probably just Michael and I.

  Once I was at home, I ran upstairs, got myself presentable, and was waiting at the door when Rena arrived. She must’ve known I was a law enforcement officer and prepared herself. She did quite well during my lengthy interrogation; I was impressed. She even cooked—an added bonus since I did not. Once she cleared her background check, she was hired. The girls had gotten home from school and met her; she seemed at ease with them and Lola. I was having one of the rooms in the basement redone into a bedroom, and there was already a bathroom down there. It seemed our household was expanding quickly.

  I was going to try to shorten my next day at work so I could get home early and help Rena settle in. I was pleasantly surprised to see both coroner’s reports on my desk when I arrived.

  After grabbing a cup of coffee from the break room, I sat at my desk and opened Kelly Dixon’s report. I scanned through it for something new, but didn’t find much. Her official cause of death had been the drowning, not the abortion. No drugs were found in her system, and by the readings of her hormone levels, the report estimated her to be six to eight weeks pregnant. No fibers or foreign DNA was found. Shuddering a little, I closed her report and opened Benjamin Rader’s.

  The report confirmed the presence of methadone, which was determined as the cause of death. No other drugs were found, which backed up his wife’s theory—a little. Only when I began reading the outer-body examination did I come across something that made me stop cold.

  Before any incision is made in an autopsy, the examiner scans the body, inch by inch, documenting all scars, marks, bruises, abrasions, and in this case, tattoos. Benjamin Rader had a small O tattooed on his back left shoulder, approximately the size of a silver dollar.

  My pulse quickening, I set down the report and grabbed Kelly Dixon’s again, flipping through the pages. What hadn’t seemed important when I first read her report had a much higher significance now. I found the page and read it again, feeling a wave of chills rush through me as I made the connection.

  Kelly Dixon, like Benjamin Rader, had a tattoo on her back left shoulder.

  The tattoo was a small O.

  Chapter Seven

  I stared at both files for a long time, reflecting back on my conversation with Ben Rader’s wife. It appeared she might’ve been onto something, and I didn’t believe her. But what exactly was I onto? Nothing more than two dead bodies, one a suspected overdose, each with a tattoo of an O on their back. Coincidence? It’s possible, I suppose. I wasn’t into tattooing, but maybe that particular tattoo was popular. Deciding to research a little before getting excited, I took the next several hours scanning through the Internet looking for the mysterious O. Just typing in the letter alone was pointless. I was overwhelmed with projects by Oprah Winfrey and the symbol for oxygen. I doubted either one had anything to do with the homicides in Mansfield, Ohio.

  Needless to say, my search proved fruitless, other than ending my project with crossed eyes. My questions were still unanswered. It appeared that Kelly and Ben, at some point in their lives, abandoned everything—careers, family, and lifestyles. The only conclusion I could come to was that they both got involved with some high-end drug dealers. Kelly’s lab work had come back clean because, according to her babysitter, she had been living here for a month now. A month, at the very least, without taking drugs. Maybe she got knocked up by her dealer and that pissed him off. Maybe she was trying to stay off the drugs to ensure a safe pregnancy.

  I shook my head. As cut and dry as I tried to make it sound, it was all nonsense. My gut told me I was wrong, and, when you have a past like mine, I’ve learned to trust it. One key fact I honed in on; Kelly and Ben’s deaths were related—unmistakably.

  I took the chance and called Brenda Rader again. I already knew she didn’t know anything about the tattoo, but I wanted to hear it from her, personally. I had expected her to be downright hostile but her voice perked up when I informed her of my findings.

  “Ben never had any tattoos, Sergeant, at least he didn’t when he left.” She paused briefly. “You believe me now, don’t you?”

  It was more of a statement than a question.

  “Not necessarily, Brenda, but I’m going to be honest with you. We had a recent murder victim with that same tattoo on her back. I just happened to make the connection this afternoon as I looked at both autopsy reports. And, before you ask, no, it doesn’t add up or make sense.”

  I heard a whoosh of air through the phone; a deep breath that Brenda Rader had been holding for close to a week. Her flood of relief was closely followed by tears.

  “So now what?” she asked quietly.

  It was my turn to sigh and rub my eyes with my free hand. As little as I had to go on, I had very little doubt I was about to do the right thing.

  “At this point, I’m going to officially reopen Ben’s investigation as suspicious, not yet a homicide, based on the connection to the other murder victim. And, just so you’re aware, I’m probably going to take a little heat for this from my superiors since there’s not much to go on. But, to answer your question—I believe you a little more than I did earlier. Fair enough?”

  “Fair enough. Thank you, Sergeant.”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  I hung up with Brenda and glanced at my watch. I was horribly late and Rena would no doubt already be at home getting settled in. Quickly calling my mother, I informed her I had a few more things to take care of and would be on my way soon. I had made a decision to open a new murder investigation without clearing it through Naomi first, and now it was time to explain myself.

  She was in her office with Coop, getting ready to leave for the day. I briefed her quickly, omitting the part about calling Brenda Rader back and telling her I officially declared her husband’s death as suspicious.

  “Lots of people have the same tattoos. It really doesn’t mean anything.” Naomi closed her office window.

  “Couples have matching tattoos sometimes,” Coop added. “Maybe Ben Rader knocked up Kelly Dixon, killed her, felt guilty about it, and then overdosed. You said he was a Holy Roller in his previous life, didn’t you?”

  That was a possibility I hadn’t thought of, and I hated the fact that Coop came upon it before I did. Regardless, it wasn’t a competition.

  “That never entered my mind, but you may have something there, Coop. It still doesn’t explain the mysterious ‘Derick’ that Brenda Rader was talking about, though.”

  “True.”

  “Naomi, I really think these deaths are connected. I want to put the files together and classify them both as homicides.” I held my breath.

  She scrunched her face up, deep in thought, before asking Coop if the other detectives needed my help on anything.

  “No, everyone is at status quo, completely overwhelmed as usual,” he said. “One more investigation isn’t going to matter.” He winked at me.

  “All right, go ahead, CeeCee. You might want to call Brenda Rader back and let her know what’s going on.”

  “Already did.”

  She raised an eyebrow as I turned and headed for the door. She knew me well enough to know that a lecture regarding the “chain of command” would do no good at this point. Right now, my main concern was getting home and helping
Rena.

  Of course, she was almost completely moved in by the time I arrived. My mother was helping her put her bedspread on, and all of her clothes had been put away. I apologized repeatedly for being late, which Rena laughed off.

  “You no have to say sorry! I know you a busy woman. We take care of it just fine!”

  She had a great sense of humor, and I knew she would become an integral part of my family in no time at all.

  The next several days were spent ironing out several glitches with Rena. One, in particular, was that she would wait at the door for Michael and me to come home from work, which was sometimes very late. We had to sit down and explain to her that she wasn’t our servant, and that it was okay to go to sleep after the children. She had taken to Michael and me, and actually wanted to debate the matter.

  “You two no take care of yourselves!” She shook her finger at us. “You no eat, sleep! I make sure you two okay!”

  Michael laughed aloud. “All right, all right, if we promise to start taking better care of ourselves, you won’t wait up for us anymore?”

  “Si. I be watching. Buenas noches.”

  She went to bed while Michael and I got a chuckle or two out of the conversation.

  There weren’t any significant breaks in the homicides either. I spent several days at local tattoo parlors with photographs of Kelly and Ben’s tattoos, but there wasn’t anything unusual enough about them to refresh any of the artists’ memories.

  Rena had been with us for about five days, and Lola had been with us for a little over a week, when it happened one morning.

  Chapter Eight

  I awoke to our doorbell ringing and lay in bed, hoping Rena would answer it. I wondered who would pay such an early morning visit. It was only a few minutes later that I heard a light knock at my bedroom door.

  “Come in,” I groaned.

  “Es-cuse me, Miss CeeCee?” Rena poked her head in.

  I sat up. “What is it, Rena?”

  “There’s a woman at the door for you. She says she here about Lola.”

  “I’ll be down in a minute.” I felt my pulse quicken, just a tad.

  “Si.”

  I quickly threw my robe on and dashed down the stairs. Michael was in the bathroom so I hadn’t even spoken to him yet. Since no one was standing at the door, I assumed Rena had taken the guest into the living room. I was right.

  I found Rena chatting away with Lori Kinderman, the children’s services caseworker that was assigned to Lola. I had personally requested Lori to handle Lola’s case. We got along well, and I respected her and the way she performed her job. A large woman, with dark hair and eyes as black as coal, Lori could be intimidating to some. I immediately noticed the look of concern on her face.

  “Lori? What is it?”

  “I’m sorry to come over so early, CeeCee, but there’s a problem with Lola.” Her voice was low and quiet.

  My pulse now soared. “What kind of a problem?”

  Lori took a deep breath while I held mine.

  “CeeCee, she has an aunt—a great aunt, in Austin, Texas. We just found out about it. We’d have never known, but this woman actually called us. I don’t know how she found out about Lola’s mother, but she even knew that you had her. She said she knows who you are because she’s seen you on crime documentaries and read your book…” She stopped.

  A lot of my cases had been featured in the national media, which produced a book deal on a serial child killer I investigated a while back. I wasn’t quite sure where Lori was going with this, but it was making me nervous.

  “Lori, tell me exactly what the problem is.” I feared the worst.

  “She wants Lola, CeeCee. She’s here in Mansfield right now. She’s already had an attorney file paperwork seeking temporary custody, and they’ve set a hearing on the matter for two o’clock this afternoon.”

  My heart sank. My worst fear was coming true. I felt the tears surge up in my eyes as Lori handed me the paperwork informing us of the motion to seek custody. The aunt’s name was Paula Terman. Trying to read the paperwork through the steady stream of tears, I saw my hands were trembling as well.

  “Oh, madre de Dios…” Rena whispered while she shook her head slightly.

  “Does she even know Lola?” My voice sounded hoarse.

  “I don’t think so. Look, CeeCee, I know you’re upset, but don’t fall apart just yet. Lola has adapted well here, and I fully intend on letting the judge know that. Nowadays, judges realize that just because people are related, that doesn’t always mean it’s the most suitable environment.”

  “Who’s the judge hearing the case?” I wiped my eyes.

  “It’s Lanahan.”

  I knew him, a fellow Irishman. I didn’t know him well, though. At least not well enough to pick up the phone and start offering bribes like I was now, irrationally, thinking of doing.

  “He’s reasonable,” Lori continued. “Lucky for us it’s not Judge Cramer. He’s a real asshole. He’ll keep a baby with its crackhead mother just to keep it with a family member. He’s all about preserving the family bond.”

  I sat down in the closest chair and sobbed. It was only a few seconds later that I heard someone coming down the steps—Michael.

  He would be just as devastated as I was. Like the rest of us, he had become emotionally attached to Lola. I could only imagine what this news would do to Selina, Isabelle, and Sean. I knew I should listen to Lori and keep my wits together, but as soon as Michael walked into the room, I began to cry harder.

  “CeeCee? What’s wrong? What’s going on?” He swung his head back and forth between Lori and me, waiting for an answer.

  I pulled myself together as best as I could, long enough to tell him. He sat down on the couch and let out a loud sigh.

  “I was hoping after this long no one would turn up. You say the hearing is at two today?”

  Lori nodded.

  “That was mighty nice of them to give us some notice! How are we supposed to get an attorney by two?”

  “I’ll call Henry Wakefield right now.” I stood up and headed for the phone.

  Henry Wakefield was the best, and fiercest, family-law attorney in town. I remember countless officers going against him during their divorces and each one would cringe when they heard his name.

  My morning grew substantially worse when Henry’s secretary told me he was in court. Sensing I had no time to waste, I started for the stairs.

  “What are you doing?” Michael was now standing in the foyer. “Did you get a hold of him?”

  “No, he’s in court. His secretary said he’d be done in half an hour and that she would give him the message, but you know how that goes. I’m going to domestic-relations court now and wait for him to come out.” I felt panicked.

  “Now just hold on.” Michael put his hands on my shoulders. “By the time you get dressed and over there he’ll be done. Just wait.”

  I embedded my face in his chest and began to cry again until I remembered Lori was still in the living room, watching all of the drama unfold.

  “Lori, I’m sorry…” I began, furiously wiping at my eyes.

  “CeeCee, don’t be sorry, I know how hard this is. You know I’ll do everything I can to see that Lola stays here.” She flung her purse strap over her shoulder. “Right now, I need to get going to work on this but I’ll see you at two, okay?”

  I nodded and Michael saw her to the door. After Lori had gone, I heard Lola upstairs beginning to wake up. I dashed up to her room and found her sitting up in her crib, rubbing her eyes. When she saw me, she stretched her small, chubby arms out.

  “Good morning, baby…” I cooed as I picked her up.

  My heart sank at the thought of her waking up in yet another strange house, to another stranger’s arms. Once in a lifetime was more than enough.

  “Beckfist!” She was hungry.

  I carried her down to the kitchen and had just given her a bowl of cereal when the phone rang. It was Henry Wakefield. Trying to squelc
h the sound of panic in my voice, I filled him in.

  “CeeCee, don’t panic,” he said. “I’ll meet you at the courtroom at one thirty. I’ll call Lori Kinderman and have her send me a copy of the home inspections and evaluations.” He paused. “What do we know about this woman, this aunt?”

  “Absolutely nothing.”

  “Just the same, if you could see what you can drum up on her between now and this afternoon, it would help. I’ll need to prepare for the hearing and won’t have time for that on this short notice. Maybe with luck we’ll find out she’s a former prostitute or convicted armed robber, and the judge will throw it out right then and there. Thank God we got Lanahan.”

  I felt somewhat better after talking to Henry—but not much. I called my department’s record section and had a brief criminal history check run on Paula Terman. Quite frankly, since it wasn’t job related I could get into serious trouble, but I didn’t care, and I knew no one would ask.

  Paula Terman was clean as a whistle with the exception of a seat belt ticket three years earlier. I noticed when they gave me her address, it came with a lot number; she lived in a trailer park. If that was the worst thing I could come up with, the forecast didn’t look too promising.

  My last phone call was to Naomi. When I told her why I wasn’t coming to work today she offered her shoulder to cry on.

  “Do you want me to go to the hearing with you?”

  “No, Michael will be there with me.” I felt the tears coming again.

  “You sure? Are you going to be all right?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know.”

  Fending off my tears for now, I told Naomi I’d let her know what happened. Then I went upstairs to get ready for the hearing. I was nervous. Criminal law and family law are two entirely separate entities. Not long ago, before Michael and I were married, his ex-wife, Vanessa, tried to take him to court to permanently end his visitations with Sean. It was nothing more than a blackmail attempt on her part to stop Michael from marrying me. Luckily, her plan crumbled before any of us saw the inside of a courtroom.