The Rapture of Omega (11 page)

After Coop left, I found it difficult to focus my attention on the three obviously connected and unsolved homicides. My thoughts endlessly drifted to Lola and, regrettably, the Children of Eden.

Michael had called shortly after lunch, and I immediately assumed something went wrong with Lola’s visit.

“Nothing’s wrong with Lola, hon. In fact, I wanted to call you earlier and let you know that I drove by to check on her before I left for work. Everything seemed
fine.
No worries.” His voice was calm and soothing.

“You checked on her?” I was slightly taken aback since it appeared Michael was taking as deep an interest in Lola as I was.

“Yes, and why do you seem so surprised?” He laughed a little. “They were in the yard playing—it looked like Lori Kinderman showed up and took over for that other little pill. Jeez, Cee! You forget that little angel has me wrapped around her little finger, too.”

I smiled. “You’re right, I’m sorry, and thanks, honey. I was just sitting here thinking about her when you called. I feel much better that Lori is there. By the way, is that
why
you called?”

“Partly, but I have something else that you might find
interesting. We got a phone call up here, anonymous, of course, about your religious cult. The caller said…” Michael stopped and I could hear him shuffling papers on his desk; he knew I would want the tip word for word. “…ah, yes, here it is,
‘A religious group living on a farm on Benedict Road in Richland County is stockpiling weapons and training for an apocalyptic crusade.’
The agent who took the call said the guy sounded pretty nutty…”

“What? When did that come in?” My pulse was racing.

“Over lunch, I guess. When the agent started to question the caller, he hung up. Nothing else was said. It came in on a private line and wasn’t recorded or able to be traced.”

“You’re going to check it out, right?” I asked eagerly. This was the break I had been hoping for. Once the FBI got involved, it would firmly justify the existence of a criminal investigation into the Children of Eden, and raise it to an entirely different level.

“No, I’m passing it along to you. It’s local jurisdiction, not federal.”

I was floored. “Local jurisdiction? Michael, you’re talking about a group of fucked-up radicals harboring weapons for a doomsday standoff. That is domestic terrorism—the FBI’s turf!” Damn him!

A long-winded sigh came through the phone. “Cee, I knew you were going to do this, so I already checked it out with my supervisor in Washington. Right now, it’s merely an allegation. We pass it on to local law enforcement to prove or disprove. If, and only if, the allegations are true, will we get involved.”

I knew he was right, but I was still angry nonetheless. A downside of having the jurisdictional FBI agent as your husband. I kept at it.

“Basically, from what you’re telling me, we do all of the footwork: the interviews, warrants, crime scene, and everything else and then just
pass
it along to you guys. I should be used to this by now. This is bullshit, Michael!” I was loud.

“You know if we personally investigate complaints like this we’d be tied up on nothing but!” His voice rose, by a degree only I would notice.

I laughed sarcastically. Now we were ready to embark on the one topic that always resulted in an argument. The topic of whose agency investigated the greater crimes and was the busiest. Michael knew better. His office wasn’t inundated with homicides, rapes, robberies, and home invasions, like my office was. But, when it came to defending his own precious FBI, which wasn’t very often, he could incense me like no one else.

“I’m not in the mood to launch into the great debate of whose agency is busiest,” I said. “As you already know, Richland Metro would have you beat hands down. All I’m saying is it would be nice for you to help a little!” Oh, I could be haughty when needed!

“This is what you wanted, for Christ’s sake!” He was furious now. “You’re constantly complaining that Naomi won’t let you open an official investigation into Illeana because of lack of evidence. Now, you’ve got it! An FBI tip! For crying out loud, CeeCee, what’s with you sometimes? It’s damned if I do, and damned if I don’t!”

Michael and I didn’t argue very much and it bothered me. A lot. I threw out the best I could come up with to ease the situation.

“Ratchet down, Agent, or you’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“What? Don’t you dare even think about—”

My childish giggles interrupted his outburst and he caught on quickly. He began to laugh, too.

“Very nice. Okay, you got me.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “C’mon, this is nuts arguing like this.”

“I know, you’re right, and I’m sorry. I’m just not getting a lot of support on this here, and a strong backing from you guys would’ve helped.”

“Look, I’m not trying to pass the buck here. Honestly, I thought you’d be thrilled to get this information, at least to get Naomi off of your back about it.” He was much calmer.

“Realistically, I am. I’ve just been on edge the last couple of days. I’ve got jack shit on three homicides, a crazy cult on the loose, and a baby girl spending the day in Little Kentucky.” I sighed. “This feels like the longest day of my life. Tell me it’s eight o’clock already.”

“Sorry, babe, but we still have six hours to go. She’ll be
fine.”
He cleared his throat. “So, am I still banished to the couch tonight?”

“Of course not. How about a date in our bedroom at, say, ten o’clock?”

“Only if you wear that cheerleading costume you wore for Halloween last…”

“Michael!” I laughed.

“It’s a date, see you then. I love you.”

Still seated at my desk, I leaned my head back and rubbed my eyes. My conversation with Michael, although it ended well, drained me a little emotionally. I looked at the clock on my desk again. There was nothing that would keep me from being home on time to welcome Lola, but six hours was plenty of time to drive down to the farm and nose around the Children of Eden again. This time I had a valid reason. Michael was
right, I was looking for a justifiable reason to take my own personal investigation to the level of a legitimate one.

Thankfully, Naomi was out, so I just left her a note that I had gone out and would explain later.

The twenty-five-minute drive to Benedict Road gave me the opportunity to concoct an approach of my “official” visit. Considering this second contact came on the heels so soon after the first, I had to have everything in order. Most importantly, I had to prepare myself to be instantly dismissed. There was little doubt that I would have a door slammed in my face since Illeana had told me specifically not to return unless it was with a warrant. But I was damned determined to try. I had yet to see the inside of the main house, so I decided to make that my focus on this particular visit.

Coming off the long driveway into view of the farm, I saw there were many people—mostly women—scattered about the property, unlike the last visit when not a soul was seen. The loud, whirring sounds of chain saws coming from the far woods indicated the location of most of the men.

Ignoring the suspicious stares, I arrogantly strode up the steps of the freshly painted farmhouse and knocked loudly on the front door. While I waited for a response, I glanced at the women in the yard, who stood motionless, watching me. The initial suspicion on their faces changed to something else now. Was it fear?

The slow creaking of the front door opening brought my attention away from the women. The door opened mere inches, and I saw Francesca peer through the darkened crack. Evidentially, she did not intend to invite me in.

“What do
you
want?” she asked skeptically.

“I’d like to see Illeana, please.” I noticed her face portrayed the same fear as the other women.

She nervously glanced behind her before turning back to me. I was desperate to know what she was looking at.

“I believe she told you that you aren’t welcome here without a warrant.”

She attempted to pull her act together and appear as if she had all the confidence in the world. Unfortunately for her, she opened the door wider, a clear invitation in my book. I quickly stepped inside. Her confidence crumbled at my blatant disregard for a verbal welcome. She immediately became even more nervous than before, more so after I stated my purpose.

“My agency has received another complaint on your group. This particular complaint came straight from the FBI.” I smiled. “Please let her know I’m here and need to speak to her immediately. I’ll wait.”

Francesca let out a loud sigh and glanced at a large wooden door to her right. I assumed Illeana was on the other side. Technically, Francesca could’ve told me then to get the hell out and never come back, but she would no doubt let Illeana make that call.

“Illeana’s in solitary salvation right now,” she almost whispered while still glancing at the door. “She doesn’t like to be disturbed, but I’ll let her know you’re here. Obviously, she won’t be happy about this.”

“I’m sure she’ll recover. By all means, take your time.”

Jaw clenched, and wearing a transparent look of irritation, Francesca went through the door and closed it
quietly behind her. Solitary salvation? I couldn’t begin to imagine what that was. For now, I took the opportunity to drink in my surroundings, walking around a bit to investigate Illeana’s inner sanctum.

My view from the foyer seemed normal enough, a small area with bright yellow walls and a polished wooden floor. An empty wooden coatrack stood prominently in the left corner underneath a large oil painting. The painting was very amateurish: a woman sat in a large field of green grass with an abundant circle of red roses around her. Nothing about the painting seemed overly religious or strange. Certainly not a wall decoration I’d expect to find in the lair of a dragoness like Illeana. Nevertheless, something about the painting struck me as odd.

I’d stuck a small digital camera in my bag before I left in case I had an opportunity, like now, to take some shots of the interior of the house. I quickly grabbed the camera and zoomed in on the painting, taking two pictures of it.

As odd as I found the painting to be, nothing prepared me for what was down the short hallway.

Almost tiptoeing, I made my way down the narrow corridor to emerge in what was supposed to be a large family room. Although there was a tattered off-white couch on the far side of the room, there was nothing else in there that resembled a place that families met to enjoy their after-dinner sitcoms by the fireplace.

It was set up as a grotesque prayer room. My hair stood up on end as I scanned the contents and decor of the room, not even realizing I was holding my breath. There was something extremely disconcerting and eerie about the room, and I don’t believe it was from the dark maroon walls either. As bad as the color was, it was worsened by the thin coat of dark paint that covered each window, causing the sunlight to coat every item in the room with a sickening reddish pink tint. Red roses were everywhere—thorns and all. They were stuck on the walls using regular Scotch tape and pushpins, in the couch, and on the windows.

Plastic lawn chairs that could be purchased for five dollars apiece at the nearest Wal-Mart had been spray-painted a metallic silver and situated in a large circle in the middle of the room, also with roses on them. The reddish sunlight caught each chair just right, giving the
appearance of a glowing red circle—almost. Painted in the middle of the circle on the polished wooden floor was a symbol. The symbol also caught the reddish sunlight. I was familiar with it. Being a sorority member in college I knew without a doubt it was Greek, but I couldn’t remember what it stood for. I quickly shut my eyes as I tried to remember what the half circle with two protruding lines and a line underneath stood for:

Ω

Was it gamma? Phi? Maybe delta? I couldn’t remember. Regardless, the entire setup reminded me of a warped futuristic portal for teleportation, at least from what I’ve seen on television. It was creepy.

Spray-painted on the darkened wall next to the chairs was a message that I found even more bothersome. As large as a mural covering the entire wall, the gleaming, bold silver letters read:

O-800-24

Omega is Coming!

Omega. That was the symbol. I remembered now. I grabbed my camera and took a few pictures of the room, which was empty except for the chairs, couch, and antiquated television set that was in front of it. Only a large stack of videocassette movies lay near it. Putting the camera away, I scanned the titles and found a new, heightened sense of alert as I read a few of the titles aloud:
Apocalypse Now, Rambo,
and one that particularly concerned me,
Night Hawks.

A cheesy ’80s film with Sylvester Stallone in the lead, the movie fully grasped the traits and persona of a modern-day terrorist, played by the actor Rutger Hauer. His portrayal of the terrorist was so accurate, the movie was actually used in several terrorism training seminars by the U.S. government, some of which I’ve attended. What concerned
me was how Illeana would know that. I wondered if one of the members might have a connection to law enforcement somewhere. To most citizens, the movie is an old, action-packed, shoot-’em-up, grainy oldie-but-goody. To law enforcement, it’s a terrorist training video.

I was beginning to think that the FBI tip, along with the videos and contents of the room, might actually get me a search warrant. The videos were such an odd contrast to the rest of the room that I became even more unsettled. The room depicted such a depth of instability and insanity that I had little doubt that Michael’s anonymous tip had more than a significant amount of truth to it.

“What do you think you are doing?”

The voice behind me bellowed so loud, I jumped and almost knocked over the stack of movies. I hate when people sneak up behind me. Illeana had walked in, followed by Francesca, and stood watching me for who knows how long. I quickly composed myself.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Illeana. Frankly, I didn’t expect you to take so long.”

“You interrupted a most sacred prayer ritual, Sergeant.” She put her hands on her hips and seemed legitimately angry. “Come now, you need to leave. You have no business walking around here. I told you last time, you need a warrant. I can call my attorney and have a suit filed against you and your department by the end of the day for this.”

I waved off the threat. “Then you’ll need to take a number and wait with the rest of ’em.” I started toward the front door. “I was actually here on a tip received by the FBI, but since I’ve seen all I need, I won’t bother asking you any questions about it. I think I’ve seen more than enough for
a federal warrant.”

Her confidence, like Francesca’s earlier, seemed to dissipate by the time I reached the front door. She motioned for Francesca to leave us alone.

“I don’t know what in that room could possibly make you think you could get a warrant, Sergeant. I
do
know a little about the law. So, what is the complaint today?” She tried to appear indifferent.

“You’re right, Illeana, I
don’t
have a warrant so you
don’t have
to talk to me. I’ll go ahead and leave now, just like you asked.” I opened the door.

Shockingly, she put her hand against the door and closed it, her indifference falling to pieces.

“Don’t
fuck
with me today, Sergeant! I’m in no mood. What is the complaint?” She was fuming.

Normally, I would’ve come unglued at such a display toward law enforcement, but decided against it—just this once. She was clearly worried and showed a disturbing, possibly violent, face, quite different from what I’d seen before. God only knows the problems I might have if she pooled together her followers to clean my clock. That image aside, I needed to be smart about this.

I raised my head. “Kindly take your hand off the door, and I’ll tell you. I would hate to think you would prohibit a law enforcement officer from leaving your residence. Knowing the laws like you do, you would know that’s kidnapping.” I spoke slowly, with a defiant calmness, keeping my eyes locked on hers.

She complied and took a step back, as if she wanted to size me up, an action that put me further on the defense. She was definitely trying my patience this afternoon.

“All right, Illeana, here it is. I received a phone call today from the FBI, who received a tip that you and your ‘people’ are stockpiling weapons here. A very dangerous
and serious allegation. An allegation that my department is putting at the top of the priority list.”

For a brief moment, I saw a flicker of concern flash through her eyes, enough that it told me the allegation was true. As usual, she did her best to brush it off.

She rolled her eyes. “Weapons? Oh, please! The biggest weapons we have here are the chain saws to cut our wood. I’ve let you walk the grounds personally, Sergeant. Tell me you saw something that classifies us as anything but full of peace. You can’t, can you? You came all the way down here for that?” She paused. “Where did this tip come from? I suppose it was anonymous?”

I nodded and she laughed aloud, clapping her hands together. I was not as amused.

“Sergeant, since the day we’ve moved in, we’ve been hearing rumors from the local farmers and others who want us out of here. I’m sure it was one of them that called to stir things up.”

“That may be, but it’s my job to investigate it just the same. What I saw in that room certainly concerned me.” I felt as if I was losing the battle.

“What?” She pointed toward the room. “That? Chairs, roses, a couch, and a television? Come on, you can do better than that!”

“What’s the message on the wall mean? The symbol of omega? I’m more curious than anything else about that. You certainly can tell me about that, can’t you?”

“I clearly owe you no explanation about anything, but since I’m so passionate about our cause here, I’d be more than happy to tell you. Who knows? Maybe I’ll turn
you
into a believer.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath, but try me.”

I’ll give one thing to Illeana, when it came to talking about her beliefs and the Children of Eden, she lit up
like a nuclear power plant. Her demeanor changed from an angry demon to the cool, collected cult leader I had first met.

“I’ve already explained to you about Eve, and how she was persecuted.
Eve is
the Omega—the beginning. It’s all very simple really—”

“Actually,” I interrupted,
“Alpha
is the beginning, and omega is the end. It clearly states that in the Bible.”

“Remember, I explained to you already that the Bible was written to silence her. Omega is the ultimate symbol of Eve, and we prepare daily for her coming, hence the message.”

“What are the numbers? 0-800-24?”

She laughed. “Something you’ll have to figure out on your own. I’m not going to let you in on all of our secrets, Sergeant. But even the numbers are harmless. Should you choose to join us, you’ll know what they are. As for the weapons, I can assure you, there aren’t any. If you want to look, you must have a warrant. I have to draw the line somewhere.”

It was getting late and I needed to go. I wanted to do a little research before I got home to meet Lola.

“Fine, Illeana. Thank you, and I’ll be on my way.” I opened the door, without resistance this time.

“Wait, here, have one.” She pulled a rose from inside the wooden door that Francesca had gone through earlier and handed it to me.

“No, thank you. I’m allergic to roses.” I left her holding the rose—her face emotionless.

“Crazy bitch!” I couldn’t help but mutter as I drove away from the farm.

I didn’t care what Coop had said previously, I had every intention of subpoenaing Illeana’s records—if they existed. The reality of the matter was that she rattled me
back at the farm, especially having witnessed a side of her that hadn’t surfaced in our earlier meeting.

I didn’t plan on doing too much at my office, as I really wanted to get home and prepare for Lola’s return. I had bought a large stuffed pink rabbit and some balloons for the girls to blow up—I wanted everything to be perfect.