Sleeping fitfully most of the night, I didn’t know if I was awake or dreaming half of the time. I remembered at one point looking over and seeing Michael sleeping next to me. I nudged him a little, he opened his eyes and reached his hand out, touching my cheek.
“I love you, baby,” he whispered.
“I love you too, Michael.”
I breathed a sigh of relief; my nightmare had been just that. Only when I opened my eyes and saw Naomi sleeping in the recliner did I realize I was wrong. The familiar thud in my chest and the reality of it all crashed down on me again, bringing forth immediate tears. Naomi woke up instantly.
“CeeCee, let me get you something. Do you want some water?” she asked, handing me tissues.
I shook my head. Today was the day I had to start over, the day to begin grieving so I could get it out of the way and make it eventually stop. This was the day to start my new life—without Michael. I don’t know how I managed, but I ultimately got out of bed, showered, and dressed. My first priority was to call Vanessa and make sure Sean was okay. Naomi had called her last night. She said Vanessa didn’t take
it too well, either—not that I was surprised. Not long before, Vanessa had tried to blackmail me into leaving Michael so they could get back together. It clearly hadn’t worked. She sounded hoarse when she answered the phone, and just as I suspected, she said Sean wasn’t doing well.
“He was up all night, crying off and on. He was crying for you, too, CeeCee.” She began to sob. “His father meant the world to him! I don’t know what to do!”
It was all I could do not to break down. My own tears flowing like Niagara Falls, I told her one of my reasons for calling.
“Vanessa, if it’s okay, I’d like to have Sean with me for the weekend. The girls will be here and help him through it…It’ll be good for Sean and them to be together.” I paused, feeling myself choking up. “It’ll be good for me to have him here. Please.”
She breathed deeply into the phone. “I’ll have him there by three.”
As I hung up, it dawned on me that this was the most cordial conversation Vanessa and I had ever had. After the blackmailing incident, we’d hadn’t spoken so much as one word to each other.
My next call was to Eric. I would pick up the girls the following morning, but I wanted some time alone with Sean. I became an Academy Award–winning actress when he put Selina on the phone, trying to sound cheerful, until she asked about Michael.
“Can I talk to Michael? I want to tell him about the FBI movie I watched last night!”
I was shaking like a leaf, and my heart sank. “Oh, honey…He—he had to run some errands and go pick Sean up.” I held my breath. “He’ll be back later.”
“How come you sound funny?”
My daughter never misses a beat. “I think I’m getting a cold is all. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
I had to be strong for all of my children, Sean included. If they saw me in pieces, they surely wouldn’t be able to cope.
Looking at the clock every fifteen minutes in anticipation of Sean’s arrival, I both welcomed and dreaded his visit. Being around him, a smaller version of Michael, would both comfort and sadden me. I had sent Naomi home, assuring her I would call later. After she left, I noticed she had taken all of my guns with her. I’m sure she thought she was being careful, but if I truly wanted to commit suicide, there were certainly other ways…not that I had any intention of doing so.
Vanessa arrived half an hour early, and by the time I got outside, Sean was already out of the car, and she was standing in the driveway looking at the blackened roadway where Michael’s car had exploded. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she was starting to fall apart. The last thing we needed was for Sean to put everything together while watching his mom stare at the road. I let the door slam so Sean would get distracted. It did the trick.
“CeeCee!” He came running to me at full speed.
Seeing the tears well up in his eyes while his face was scrunched up, I caught him and fell to my knees, holding him tightly and sobbing. He cried right along with me.
“My daddy’s gone! He’s in heaven, CeeCee!” he wailed.
I squeezed him tighter, and he buried his face into my shoulder. Vanessa stood quietly, watching us, her
own tears still flowing. Holding Sean was the closest I could get to Michael, and I didn’t want to let him go. Nonetheless, both Vanessa and I needed to keep ourselves together for Sean’s sake.
“Vanessa,” I sniffled, “do you want to come in for some coffee or something?”
“No, thanks, CeeCee…” She wiped her eyes. “I need to get going. I have my own grieving to do.”
I responded with only a nod, and Sean and I watched her drive away before we went into the house. We sat, talked, and cried for hours. Sean was the best medicine I could’ve asked for. I knew I had to be strong for him, so I suppressed my own grief enough that I felt able to function. It was a long night, but at least we had each other. The next morning would be another horrible affair, when Selina and Isabelle arrived.
They, like the rest of us, didn’t take it well when Eric and I gave them the bad news, Selina especially. She was the oldest and had never experienced the realities of life and death. Michael was the first person she had ever known who had died, and it took such a toll on her I had to put her in counseling within a week.
Michael’s funeral was an entirely different issue. The FBI, for reasons they refused to discuss with me, insisted on a small, private service, instead of the full-blown law-enforcement burial. I was furious, to say the least. Alan Keane called me several times and tried to explain. He insisted that while they were searching for Michael’s killers, they thought it best to try to give the impression that Michael had not been killed—only injured. Therefore, no obituary was printed, and the incident had not been reported
by any news agency anywhere. He felt that if the higher-ups among Michael’s killers thought they had failed, the conflict between them would lead the FBI right to them. My opinion of Alan Keane’s explanation was that it was bullshit, and I told him as much. They were keeping something from me; there wasn’t a doubt in my mind. However, he said, once Michael’s killers were caught, a service with all of the bells and whistles would be held. Never in my life had I heard of such a thing.
The weeks that followed were the most difficult of my life. Each time I walked into our closet to pack up Michael’s clothes, I walked right back out. The last time in the closet was the day I decided his things would be put away only when I was ready, and now wasn’t the time. Vanessa still let me take Sean on the designated weekends, which surprised me. Sean did wonders for me, and I think I did the same for him.
Dreams of Michael came every night in my restless sleep, and I found myself wanting to sleep more, just to see him. When I couldn’t fall asleep, several glasses of wine or vodka did the trick. The more I drank, the more I slept, and therefore, the more I saw Michael. Eric several times expressed his concern, taking the girls more than usual, but I found myself caring less and less about anything.
My days went as follows: wake up, drink a bottle of wine, sleep, wake up, drink more, sleep, and so on. When my vacation time and sick leave finally ran out two months later, it was time to go back to work.
My first day back didn’t go well. I was hungover and found myself craving more alcohol. Naomi,
Coop, my father, the sheriff—everyone tried to talk me into counseling, but I refused. I told myself to get it together and dive into my work. As easy as it sounded, I wasn’t aware of how difficult that would be. Naomi was around me so much it began to get annoying.
“How ‘bout Coop and I stop by after work and take you to dinner? You’re a skeleton, CeeCee. You really need to eat something.” She stood in front of my desk with her arms crossed.
“You guys really need to stop.” Sighing, I put my face in my hands. “I know you all are worried, but trust me, I am
not
going to kill myself, so you can stop all of the fucking nightly checkups at my house.”
She sat down in a chair. “I don’t know that we’re really worried about you committing suicide, Cee…There’s ways of slowly killing yourself, ya know? You’re not eating, you’re drinking too much, and if you don’t get it together, you will eventually kill yourself—whether intentionally or not.”
Taking a deep breath, I leaned back in my chair. “I just don’t know if I can do this, Naomi.” Tears began to fill my eyes.
She leaned forward. “Yes, you can! You’re the strongest person I have ever met in my life! You were strong before you even met Michael, and you will be strong now!” She stood up. “This isn’t the CeeCee I know. She can overcome anything, even the death of the man she loved, for her children and for herself. Now, take the homeless murders and review the file. Dive back into work and get your mind off all of this! We’ve had nothing since you’ve been gone, and maybe you can find whatever it is that we missed.”
She pulled a thick brown expanding file from her briefcase and threw it on my desk. It landed with a loud thud.
“Let me know if you find anything, and let me know if you need anything.” She left my office.
I stared at the file. For some reason, I had a feeling that if I opened it, it would be like working. That would mean that I was moving on without Michael, making me feel guilty somehow. Still lost in thought, I was jolted back into the present when someone knocked loudly on my door. It was the new detective, Justin Brown.
“Sergeant Gallagher?”
“Yes, Justin. Come on in.”
“I just wanted to tell you I’m glad to see you back, and I’m sorry about what happened.”
I did my best to smile. “Thank you. So how are your cases coming along?”
We talked briefly before he left. People expressing their condolences was something that would take time to get used to. Flipping through the homeless-murder file was no good. I couldn’t concentrate and certainly didn’t find anything that might’ve been missed. There were two murders to be solved, and I was worthless.
The third murder came less than two weeks after I returned to work. Thirty-nine-year-old Jamie Ellerman had hitchhiked his way to Mansfield from Louisville. He had initially thought he had relatives here, but found out they had either died or moved. Finding himself with no money or transportation, he walked to the nearest homeless shelter, where he had been staying for the last five days. His body, minus
both kidneys, was found in Ferndale Park, at the end of Harmon Avenue.
Harmon Avenue, also known as “the drive-through,” was the street that supplied the majority of the city’s crack cocaine. House after house was a crack store. People literally went door-to-door to feed their habit. Ellerman’s body was found by a crack addict who had gone to the park to smoke her morning breakfast. Most addicts are so eager for their supply, they can’t wait to get home, so they go right to the park. On any given day, one could find ten to fifteen people in the park, smoking crack. All of us deduced at least five to ten people had seen the body and not reported it. Why this addict decided to call the police was anyone’s guess.
Pulling into the parking lot of the park, I felt different than I had at other homicides I’d been to. It was the lack of emotion, the hardhearted indifference. I didn’t care. Looking at the body, my usual thoughts of compassion were replaced with
So what if another no-good piece of shit was carved like a Thanksgiving Day turkey. Someone ought to give a medal to the killer—he did the world a favor.
That was the day I knew my career in law enforcement was over.
After standing over the body and staring at it for a while, Coop came over and asked my opinion.
“What do you think? It’s definitely the same killer. I’m starting to think it’s one of the high-end dealers around here looking for a quick buck.”
I glared at him. “Does it really matter? All that happened here is the taxpayers got another break from having to support this nonworking, drug-addicted shitbag! Do we really want to find the killer?
Maybe if we let him do his business, there wouldn’t be any more welfare recipients in this county.”
Coop’s jaw dropped ever so slightly as he stared at me, looking as if I’d just announced it was me who was killing the homeless. Raising my left eyebrow, I glared right back at him.
“Alrighty then, I see somebody isn’t quite ready to come back to work.” He gently grabbed my arm. “I’ve got plenty of vacation time built up. Why don’t you let me donate it to you so you can take some more time off?”
I jerked my arm away. “I’m fine, and I’m perfectly capable of doing my job!” I pointed at the body. “What difference does it make? Huh? If we catch this guy’s killer, then next week we’ll have someone else putting their baby on the heater or shooting their wife in the face! It goes on and on, Coop! Maybe tomorrow we’ll have the mayor getting blown up in his car!”
My reference to the car bomb shocked Coop, especially since the actual cause of Michael’s death had never come up in our conversations. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was too soon for me to be back at work, looking at dead bodies.
“CeeCee, try and relax.” Coop’s voice was quiet, since there were other people around.
“Don’t you fucking tell me to relax, Detective! Go start interviewing the residents on the street to see if they saw anything.” I nodded toward the houses. “That’s an order!”
Coop’s face turned red as he pursed his lips and clenched his fists. He was unmistakably pissed. Coop and I had started our careers together from day one, and never had I talked to him like that, until now.
“No problem, Sergeant.” He turned and walked away.
I felt like crying again. It was apparent I was falling apart, not getting better. Several feet away, Naomi was looking at me, knowing an altercation had just occurred between her husband and me, but not knowing why.
After confirming with the crime lab that they had the scene under control, I headed for my car. While driving home, I called Naomi on her cell phone and told her I was going home sick, and hung up before she could finish asking for an explanation. I stopped at the store and grabbed several bottles of wine and vodka. I had one of the vodka bottles opened and halfway drunk before pulling into my driveway. Stripping off my clothes and getting into my bed sobbing, I finished off the bottle. Drifting back into the darkness soon after, I knew Michael would be waiting.