First Born (28 page)

“Sorry,” he said. His body quaked with emotion as he finally let go of his hell.

“I know. I know,” she whispered. They stood there for a minute, afraid to break the bond.

“Lily?”

“Yes?”

“You’re one scary bitch.” He smiled at her with the blood coagulating on his forehead. “You should have seen yourself!” It wasn’t anger on his face, but respect and awe.

She was exasperated.
Boys.

They made it through that morning without tearing each other apart. By the afternoon, they were both edgy as they laid out plans to address Moore Armageddon. They knew it was coming. There was no way they would survive if they didn’t pull together.

With the door closed, silence hung between the three men like a thick fog. Each one was afraid to venture forth as if blinded by the unthinkable. Caldwell wiped his sweaty palms on his pants.

Lake stood up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black pants. He came around the wooden veneer desk to lean on the edge and face Caldwell and Tiny.

“I think we need to address the elephant in the room,” he said.

Tiny fidgeted in his chair.

Caldwell stared down at his shoes.

“We all know what we saw on the Seth Moore videotape. In addition, the forensic evidence is pushing us to look at something unique, bizarre even. But at some point, we need to discuss openly what’s going on.

Lake cleared his throat. “I want a blood oath from both of you that what we talk about right now goes no further until we figure out how to manage things.”

Tiny nodded as did Caldwell.

“Just listen.” Lake sighed. “It’s about the night Arthur Moore died.”

Caldwell found it difficult to swallow. He didn’t dare look at Tiny. His stomach fluttered. They were at the edge. Once Lake’s words came out, Caldwell knew there’d be no going back.

“There had been a disturbance at a construction site of loft apartments in Midtown. Myself and my partner, Randy Lucas, got split up while pursuing two perps. I got lost in this maze of machines and building materials. As I turned around, I heard a shot. Lucas was down.”

Lake swallowed. Caldwell watched him take a breath to steady himself.

“By the time I worked my way back, Officer Liu was there with his dog, Barney. I took off in the direction of the suspect, not paying any attention to Liu’s protests. I knew he’d take care of Lucas. I just wanted to hunt the bastard down who’d shot him.”

He shook his head. “Damn dog. Always was smarter and faster than me. Flew past me. The perp fired and Barney took a bullet in his back leg. I checked the dog. I swear, he, I just thought it had grazed him. If you could have seen his eyes. It was like he wanted me to keep going. I got my quarry. Gerald Owens raised his gun, but I was quicker. Got him right between the headlights.” Lake looked down as he chewed his bottom lip.

“When I made it back to that location, the dog was gone—I mean no body, disappeared. In that same spot lay Arthur Moore on a crash board, bleeding to death, too far gone for the paramedics to help.”

Caldwell snuck a peek at Tiny and saw he was studying the floor.

“Bullet fucking severed his femoral artery. He bled out,” spat Lake.

Lake’s eyes were wet, his nostrils flared. The room remained silent. Caldwell looked at him.

“I questioned Liu over and over about when the hell Officer Moore got there and how he was shot and where was the dog. Liu was just numb, but before we returned to the station, he grabbed me by the collar. He said ‘Arthur Moore was killed in the line of duty. Barney has been taken to a veterinary clinic where he will be pronounced dead from a gunshot wound. You should not be so impulsive.’”

Lake huffed. “I was pissed. I just couldn’t figure it out; all I was sure of was that I had royally fucked up.”

“Man,” Tiny said.

“Lucas recovered. I was a hero. I chased down the cop killer, according to my friends. But I knew better.” He shrugged. “Liu blamed me. He always has. Shortly after the incident, he transferred to the Marietta Police Department. I wanted to pursue it, but I just couldn’t look Liu in the eye.”

“Arthur Moore was a special man,” Caldwell said. He thought he understood the scenario from that night.

“Very special. I worked with him and Li Liu for years. Officer Moore was any
man’s best friend
,” Tiny said, staring straight at Lake as if to challenge him.

Seth Moore was another matter. Caldwell had watched the videotape of Moore’s interrogation over and over with Tiny.

“I think I saw a pooty-cat. I did. I did see a pooty-cat,” was Tiny’s response. Caldwell had given him a dirty look while he nursed his injured head. Eventually, the lieutenant insisted he go over to the hospital where he got eight stitches for the damage Seth Moore had done flipping the metal table on him.

Caldwell shifted in his chair.

“So you see, it wasn’t so strange for you to have seen Lily Moore change into a dog in the woods,” Lake said.

“Yeah Simmulator, don’t take it too hard that a kitty kicked your ass in the interview room, either.” Tiny’s nose crinkled. “I gave that little shit my tuna fish sandwich.”

Caldwell looked from one man to another. He didn’t have the words to describe his dreams. The different crime scenes shuffled through his head. All the pieces still didn’t fit together.

Lake exhaled. “So we all have the same idea about the Moore family’s situation.”

Tiny whistled the music to the X-Files sending a chill down Caldwell’s back.

“You don’t think they are...” Caldwell couldn’t say the word.

“Some genetic mutation?” Lake offered.

“But what about the feathers and the weird footprints?” Tiny asked.

“Someone or something is targeting them or those close to them because of this,” Caldwell suggested. “You think that Miller guy knew what was up? What really happened at that field?”

“I don’t know if any of this is even connected,” Lake said, trying to smooth down his hair. “Maybe we’re trying to piece together stuff that’s just doesn’t go together.”

All three men were stumped.

There was a knock at the door. “Detective Simms?” Carrie, the receptionist peered inside the office. “There’s a Sarah Clemens here to see you.”

Lake’s eyebrows rose.

“She tried to call, but couldn’t get through to you. She has something of her sister’s to show you.”

Caldwell rose from the table and followed Carrie out.

Caldwell had intended to talk to the Moores’ family and friends and then pay the Millers a surprise visit. Instead, he had to go sympathize with a grieving old lady. He took several breaths to calm himself and tried to put on a pleasant face as he entered the conference room. Mrs. Clemens looked up at him with a tight smile. Her eyes were red from crying and she held an intricately embroidered handkerchief in her hand. She wore her white hair swept back in a bun.

Ah hell.
“Hi Mrs. Clemens, I’m Detective Simms. We spoke briefly over the phone the other day about Charles Moore.”

“Yes, yes. I remember,” she said fiddling with her hands.

Caldwell walked to the table and sat down next to her. “What can I do for you?”

“I found this in my attic as I was going through some of Mona’s things.”

Caldwell looked down at a worn leather-bound journal then back up at Mrs. Clemens. “What is it?”

“One of my sister’s old journals,” she said wiping a tear.

“I can see how upset you are Mrs. Clemens,” Caldwell said.

“Wait until you see what’s inside.” Some alarm fired in Caldwell’s head.

“Where was this?

“In a trunk in my attic. You know it’s been there a while. We stored some things for her when she first moved back to the states before she bought the house on Myrtle Street. I think we both forgot about it. I thought it just had some old photographs of us as kids. I was feeling nostalgic today and opened it.”

“It’s definitely Ms. Sinclair’s?”

“Yes, it’s her handwriting.”

“I understand.” Caldwell sighed. “Because of our ongoing investigation of your sister’s death, I have to treat this as evidence.”

“You’re not going to look at it now?”

“There’s something important in there?”

“Something dreadful,” she whispered.

Caldwell nodded. “Let me grab some gloves and an evidence bag and I’ll look through things.”

She nodded.

Caldwell left the room and grabbed the items from his desk. He waved his hand through the glass at the lieutenant who was on the phone. It was the best distress gesture he could muster. Lake held his hand up indicating he’d be right there.

Caldwell sat back down with the items. “Lieutenant Lake is on his way,” he said.

“Thanks,” said Clemens, biting her lip.

Lake entered a minute later. He shook Mrs. Clemens hand before sitting down next to her. She gave him a weak smile and swallowed hard. It was an odd arrangement, but they flanked her on either side in order to study the book. Both men wore gloves.

Caldwell opened the book. The writing looked familiar. He’d seen it from the Sinclair crime scene. They would get their expert to verify it.

Mrs. Clemens cleared her throat. “There are some things here that I will not speak of to you. I just can’t.” Her lips trembled. “I brought this for you to read, but I’m not comfortable with my sister’s issues being public knowledge.”

“We understand,” Lake said.

“That said, it appears that my sister became pregnant when she was in Sumatra with the Peace Corps. At the end of her service she stayed on for three more years.”

Caldwell nodded. “I remember you telling me that.”

“It was the sixties and she was kind of a free spirit. I’d like to say that there was a boyfriend, but I think the fact of the matter was that she was with a group and there were
friends.
”

She looked at Caldwell who nodded to reassure her.

“I was aware of her having a baby, but was told that it died from a terrible infection. I chalked it up to the living conditions in a third world country. I couldn’t believe she stayed over there. Anyway, my sister returned to the states and made a new life for herself writing children’s books. She never would give me the details of her son’s death. She has suffered in the past several years from poor health. She said she had some depression. I had no idea it was extreme anxiety and
delusions.

“Mona had twins. After the one died, she gave the other baby up for adoption to a family in the states. It was a closed adoption. As far as I know, she never attempted to make contact with the surviving son. I never understood why. Apparently, the twins were born two minutes apart. The first born was strong and healthy. The second one weak.”

Caldwell shifted in his chair then asked the million-dollar question, “Do we know the name of her son?”

“There’s a Hindu name mentioned here.” Her brows dropped down, her lips pursed in disapproval. “Ankur. I don’t know how adoptions work if the adoptive family names them...or...”

Caldwell slowly turned a few pages, “I know this is difficult for you. Thank you so much for providing us with this—”

“Detective, there’s more,” she said. Caldwell held his breath.

“My sister’s child did not die from an infection. His younger brother killed him.”

Caldwell stopped his page turning and paid closer attention to the woman next to him.

“Apparently, the bigger one became very ill with a fever. She left the boys with a neighbor to go into town and get some medicine. When she returned, the neighbor held his lifeless body and wouldn’t stop crying. Ankur wasn’t hiding. He had been waiting on the front step for her. He admitted that he put a pillow over his brother’s face.” Clemens gulped. “Mona writes here that ‘his eyes were not an innocent child’s.’ The Medical Examiner stated cause of death as respiratory distress secondary to infection. Mona states clear as day that Ankur, at three, smothered his brother with no remorse.” Frown lines creased her forehead. “I don’t know that a three-year-old can be evil. Do you? I mean, he wouldn’t have known any better.”

Lake patted her hand.

“She couldn’t look at the child. She gave him up for adoption.”

“Mrs. Clemens, I know I asked you before about Charles Moore—”

“Yes, I remember, but I’ve never heard of him. My sister was rather secretive. Why?”

“We just wondered if he was the father,” Lake said.

Mrs. Clemens daintily wiped her nose. “Who knows? Maybe the father was an Indian.”

Caldwell nodded. “If you don’t mind, just a couple more questions, Ms. Clemens.”

“Yes?”

“I know we talked briefly about Dr. Hitomi’s research over the phone. Were you aware of any kind of relationship Ms. Sinclair had with her.”

“No, again, I have never met that woman. Mona never talked about her.”

“Did she ever mention Frank Harding to you?”

“Who is that?”

“Someone who may be connected to this case. He knows the Moores. I just was seeing if you were aware of Ms. Sinclair knowing him.”

“No, I don’t recall my sister ever mentioning that name. But again, there’s so much I didn’t know about my sister.”

They gave her some time to collect herself and asked if she needed a ride, but she assured them that her husband was waiting on her to drive her home.

Once she left, Caldwell and Lake poured through the book more thoroughly.

“Let’s give this to Tiny,” Lake said. “Then I’ll call the US Department of State’s Vital Records department to track down the name from the original birth certificate.”

“Hopefully that’ll work and we won’t have to wait for Clemens to petition the court for the adoption record to be opened,” Caldwell grumbled.

“Tragic story, no wonder the lady had PTSD,” Lake commented. “But a three-year-old is still just a baby.”

“Was a baby. Now he may be one pissed-off, traumatized adult.”

After lunch Caldwell and Lake stood side-by-side working on the crime board in Lake’s office when Tiny knocked. He placed a manila folder on the meeting table before coming to stand by them, his bright yellow glasses perched on his head. He rolled up the sleeves of his pink oxford shirt. “It’s hotter than stew fire in here.”