Mary Jane's Grave (13 page)

Once again, I was being faced with giving up Michael, and this time, I didn’t think I would be able to cope. It was me or his son. I thought back to Michael in his office and how devastated he was, and I knew I couldn’t see him like that again. Sean was his whole world.

“If I do this,” I said, trying to ignore the voice within that was yelling
Wimp! Tell her to go to hell!,
“you’ll let Michael see Sean?”

“Yes, of course I will.”

I paused. “Give me a few days, and it’s done.”

I slammed down the phone, and then I lost it. I cried so hard I thought I’d pass out. I was screaming and berating myself for putting off the wedding, because if I hadn’t, we’d already be married and she’d have a tough time trying to coerce me into giving up the man I loved. I didn’t think I’d be able to face Michael and tell him it was over, but I had to. Vanessa had left me no other choice.

It took me a long time to get myself together. Even then, I felt dazed as I drove to work. When Michael called just as I was pulling into the police department parking lot, I said, “I can’t talk,” and hung up. This was not like me at all, and he had to know something was wrong.

I wouldn’t have believed it, but when I got to my office, Naomi was waiting for me. And yes, she had more news to ruin my day.

“I hope you didn’t have anything planned today, because guess what we get to do?” Her sarcastic tone told me something unpleasant was coming.

“Let’s have it,” I grumbled, throwing my bag and keys on my desk.

“The storage room is being sprayed. Sooo, we have to move all the boxes of old files over to this building. After that, we have to go through all of this year’s boxes and pull the reports that haven’t been scanned onto the computer yet and give them to records. I have a list.” She flopped into a chair and sighed. “Needless to say, it’s going to take us all day. Coop’s gonna help.”

I couldn’t deal with this today. “Why do we have to do it? Thirty clerks in the records department have nothing to do all day.”

“So said the sheriff, that’s why. Some of those cases are confidential, and he wants us to do it. Not to mention, some were never closed out, so we have to see which ones need to be.” She stood up to leave. “If you have something that needs to be done with any of your cases today, let me know and I’ll assign one of the other detectives to do it. I’ll meet you at the storeroom in a little while. If you want to go home and throw some jeans on, feel free.”

I put my face in my hands and felt like crying again. I should’ve called in sick. I hadn’t taken a sick day in more than ten years, and if ever I needed one, today was the day.

I took Naomi’s advice and went home to change my clothes. I threw on an old pair of jeans and a sweatshirt with a T-shirt underneath, in case it was warm in the storeroom. I had been in the storeroom before, and it was filthy.

My head was cloudy all day. I felt like a robot: lifting boxes, sorting through files, checking off lists. Nothing seemed real. Every time I thought about going home and facing Michael, I got downright ill. Naomi and Coop noticed. Both asked me what was wrong several times throughout the day. I told them I had a headache and didn’t feel well. I wasn’t lying.

At the end of the day, we weren’t finished with all the files yet. Naomi said we’d finish them tomorrow.

“I’ll stay and finish them,” I volunteered.

Naomi looked at me strangely. “That’s okay, go home. You said you weren’t feeling well, and quite frankly, you don’t look so good. We’ll have them finished by late morning.”

“Really, it’s not a problem.” I didn’t want to make too much of an issue of it. “The girls are with Eric, and Michael will be late…I’ve got things to do tomorrow with my case, and I’m feeling much better, so go. I’ll take care of it.” I produced a halfhearted smile.

Naomi kept looking at me, her eyes narrowing. “CeeCee, I don’t mean to pry, but is everything okay at home?”

I rolled my eyes and kept my smile. “Yes, things are fine. Not to worry. Shoo!”

That was the downfall of being a cop; you had to work with other cops and it was hard to get something past them.

I called Michael and prayed I would get his voice mail. I was in luck. I told him not to wait up for me. I would be very late. I tried my best to sound normal, but even hearing his voice on the message stirred my emotions. I couldn’t face him until I thought of a reason to break it off. Otherwise he would know immediately something was wrong, and he’d start badgering me about it.

I took my time with the remaining files. I went so slow, it was after midnight when I finally crossed the last file number off the list. I was exhausted. Michael should be asleep by now, and as tired as I was, I would be asleep within minutes when I got home.

As I predicted, he was asleep. After I took a quick shower, I set my alarm two hours early so I could be gone by the time he woke up. I wasn’t allowing myself much time for sleep, but I couldn’t face him.

I felt just as dreary as the day before when Naomi called me on my way into the office. “You need to go down to the grave first thing. I’ll meet you there.” She sounded out of breath.

“Why?”

“It’s nasty. Apparently, the township was mowing the cemetery this morning when they found a dead dog. Not a big deal, except this dog was completely skinned and supposedly has a bunch of ritualistic crap around it.” I heard the
beep, beep, beep
as she opened her car door. “By the way, I can’t believe you finished all that last night. Thanks.”

“Naomi, why are we going down there? It’s just a dog that was probably mutilated by some sicko fascinated with the murders. It’s not a person.”

“You’re probably right, but we should at least look at it and snap a few pictures.” Her car was now accelerating; she was on the move.

“All right, I’ll see you in a few,” I conceded, while I made a U-turn.

On my way down to the grave, my cell phone rang. I saw Michael’s number, so I didn’t answer it. After a few minutes, the ring from my voice mail went off. I listened to the message:

“Hey, baby, it’s me. I’m getting ready to leave and was just wondering when you’re going to be home to night, since I haven’t seen you in a couple of days. I really miss you, and I love you. Have a good day.”

My chest went into a spasm, and for a moment I had my phone in my hand ready to call Vanessa and tell her to take her deal and stick it right up the farthest reaches of her ass.

But I remembered that Michael had once told me that her brother, a Cleveland Police officer, was married to a judge’s daughter, a domestic relations judge. Her brother had probably told his father- in- law over dinner what a horrible person I was. No doubt the judge’s mind was already made up before the hearings even began. Typical of our justice system. It was nothing but a farce. Phone calls were made, money was passed, judges and juries were prejudiced, all of it happened every day. I put my phone down and fought back the impending tears. Michael had sacrificed everything for me, and now it was my turn to make the mother of all sacrifices—our relationship and future marriage.

I parked next to Naomi’s car in front of the gate to the cemetery. I saw her and several township employees standing around a white mass in front of the pine tree. I was only a few feet away when I could clearly see the burn marks on the dog’s skinned body. Burn marks that matched Kari Sutter’s and Danielle Horton’s.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumbled as I took in the entire scene.

The dog was lying in a red circle, presumably its own blood, with its own skin torn up in pieces next to the carcass, forming a crude
M.
Flies had already come and gone, so the maggots were feasting away. One of the township workers looked like he might vomit.

“I’ll get the crime lab down here.” Naomi sighed, as she turned and walked toward her car.

I got all of the township employees’ names, looked at their shoes and asked where in the cemetery they had been. Then I sent them away and declared the area a crime scene—for the third time this month.

Waiting for the lab techs to arrive, I started walking the perimeter of the cemetery and came across something that hadn’t been found in the earlier crime scenes: a footprint. It wasn’t one of the employees’ prints, and it was also very fresh.

“Naomi!” I called over my shoulder. “Bring me a flag, a ruler and a camera!”

Naomi fumbled around in her trunk, then brought the items over. I took the small bright orange flag from her and stuck it in the ground about an inch from the footprint. I laid the ruler directly next to it. Stepping back, Naomi and I looked down at the print, which was longer than the ruler.

“That is one helluva long shoe print,” I pronounced.

Naomi nodded. “What is that? Size thirteen? Fourteen?”

“Definitely not a woman’s print.”

“When the lab gets here, we’ll have them make a plaster cast of it. At least there’s some treads in it. It’s a start.” She looked toward the gate, anticipating the arrival of the lab.

After I took a few photos of the shoe print, I continued to walk the perimeter of the cemetery but found nothing else. The crime lab technicians, once they arrived, complained about having to bag up the dog for an autopsy. Considering the mood I was in, I didn’t want to hear it and I snapped at them, something I have never done before.

“Just bag the goddamn dog, and quit your fucking bitching!”

My dressing-down turned the heads of everyone around us. I never disrespected a member of my department as I had today. The township employees were down by the gate and heard every word. Naomi shot me a stern glance, walked over to the technicians and calmly told them to get the dog bagged up so we could all get out of here.

As I walked over to my car, I was treated to enraged stares by the technicians, some of whom I had known for years. It was all I could do not to burst into tears right there in the cemetery.

I tossed my camera into my car and was ready to drive away when Naomi came over to my window.

“CeeCee, shut the car off,” she ordered.

I left it running. “I need to go, Naomi. I have things to do.”

“Not until you tell me what the hell has been up your ass for the last couple of days.” She was angry. “I’ve never heard you talk to any member of this department like that. You owe them an apology!”

I tried to stay calm, but my voice began to shake. “Naomi, please, I’ll apologize later, and I don’t want to talk about this right now. I have to go.”

With Naomi still at my window, I pulled away. I wasn’t even to the end of the road before my dam broke. I turned onto a side road, put my car in park and sobbed.

When I felt able to drive again, I drove around for a while before going back to my office. I was somewhere near the county line when my attorney called.

“CeeCee, good news! Your papers are ready. All you and Eric have to do is come in and sign them. I’ll file them tomorrow, and it’ll be a done deal.”

I had a thought. “Have you called Eric yet?”

“No.”

I took a deep breath. “Do me a favor and don’t call him right now, okay? Just hang on to the papers and don’t file them.”

I had found my reason to break up with Michael.

“CeeCee, I don’t understand,” my attorney said. “You said you couldn’t get this done fast enough.”

“I know. Trust me, it won’t be much longer, but I just need a few more days. I can’t explain it right now.”

I rubbed my head after hanging up with my attorney. I anticipated today being one of the longest days of my life. I had been driving around for more than an hour and was sure Naomi was livid by now.

When I walked in my office, Naomi was there with Sheriff L. Richard Stephens, our head honcho.

Naomi couldn’t talk about my whereabouts too much in front of the sheriff, so she just asked me casually, “CeeCee, where you been?” She looked concerned.

“I was looking for a witness,” I lied, and then changed the subject. “Sheriff, how have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been busy campaigning. It seems my opponent has been hitting the northern part of the county hot and heavy.”

I sat at my desk and genuinely smiled. “Sheriff, the only one around here who believes you have to worry about this election is you. It’s in the bag.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t ever say that. In this type of thing, anything can happen. My luck, this guy will find a picture of me in a strip bar wearing a bra on my head from 1980.”

I laughed and so did Naomi. The sheriff took a seat in front of my desk and flipped briefly through the Kari Sutter file.

“Anything yet?” he asked.

“Nada.”

He threw the file back on my desk. “You know, I remember that murder down there back in the eighties. I never thought something like that would happen again.”

Naomi and I shot looks at each other.

“I never heard of another murder down there. Why didn’t the papers flash back on it? When was it?” I asked, stunned.

The sheriff looked just as surprised. “You never knew that? I thought for sure you did.” He looked at Naomi, who also shook her head. “I don’t know why the papers didn’t bring it up. Probably because no one was ever convicted. I think it was in…oh, let me think…I’m pretty sure it was springtime, 1986.”

“In spring of 1986 I was in the seventh grade, Sheriff,” I said.

“Thank you for that bit of information, CeeCee,” he quipped. “I don’t think I could have possibly felt any older until you just told me that. I was a sergeant of road patrol then, for Christ’s sake.”

Naomi smiled and added, “You look wonderful for your age.”

“All right, ladies, quit while you’re ahead. Now, I’m trying to think who investigated that case. I remember the victim was a young girl, and her friends were the suspects. They were all rich kids and got acquitted.” He looked down at the ground, thinking. “If memory serves, the girl’s mother killed herself a few years later.”

He had gotten my wheels spinning. “Sheriff, I need to see that case, the entire case.”

“Whew, CeeCee, I don’t know. You guys were in the storeroom files yesterday, right?”

Naomi and I nodded.

“I’d check there first. If it’s not there, try the cold-case unit. They may have it since technically it was unsolved.”

The cold-case unit investigated every homicide deemed unsolvable by major crimes. Cold cases took years to solve and lots of money. Nonetheless, the unit seemed to be on a roll lately. In the last six months they’d solved two murders from the late 1970s.

I already knew that trying to find a file from 1986 would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. After the sheriff and Naomi left, my phone rang. It was Bob with my final test results from the Kari Sutter murder.

“I’ve decided not to make you get these out of my ass, CeeCee. You ready?” Bob asked.

“Ready with bells on. Go ahead.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s pretty much the same as the prelims. The blood on the tree was the victim’s, no other DNA. The cut on the wrist was with precision, probably a razor blade. No fibers, no sexual assault, and the material from the victim’s hand was over one hundred years old.”

I was thrown by the last result. “What did you say? What material?”

“The material in her hand,” he said calmly.

I was getting irritated. “
What
material in her hand, Bob? You never said anything about finding material in her hand.”

He was quiet, and when he finally spoke, it was weak. “I didn’t?”

“No!”

“Oh, well, um, the victim’s right hand, the one that wasn’t cut, had about a two-square-inch piece of material in it. I’m sorry—I thought I told you.” He seemed nervous.

“You never told me,” I growled. “You said it was over a hundred years old? What does it look like?”

“Um, right, it was very old.” He coughed into the phone. “The material probably used to be white, but it was tinted yellow from age. It was a type of thick lace.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

Taking the elevator to the basement where the crime laboratory was, I couldn’t help wondering what else Bob had forgotten to tell me. I’m sure he had heard from the other technicians about my mood at the cemetery this morning and most likely didn’t want to deal with me. I was at a point where I couldn’t have cared less.

Bob was waiting for me at the entrance to the lab, holding the material in a clear plastic bag, along with photographs of it, something he clearly anticipated me asking for. He apologized again for not telling me about it, and I in turn apologized for biting his head off. While I was on an apology streak, I poked my head into the lab and apologized to the technicians I had yelled at while at the cemetery, explaining I was having a bad day and that I didn’t mean to take it out on them. They were quite forgiving, considering the circumstances.

I still hadn’t heard anything about any marriage certificates for Madeline or Maryanne Hendrickson, so I spent the remainder of the day catching up on paperwork—typing interviews, making copies and so forth. I found myself continually looking at the clock, somehow hoping it would stop completely so I wouldn’t have to go home. Michael had called twice, neither of which I answered.