The Rapture of Omega (19 page)

The day at the farm proved to be one of the longest I could remember. Of course, in retrospect, I had no idea what lay ahead. It seemed as if each day of the past several weeks blurred over into the next. I felt like I had no sense of time or awareness, as if I was walking around in a dream state.

Michael and I were both exhausted when we left the property around midnight. On the drive home, I desperately thought of a means to catch up with the cult. Michael had every local, state, and federal law enforcement agency across the country watching for them. Kirk had said he abandoned the group yesterday afternoon, when they were on the Ohio/West Virginia border.

“What Kirk said doesn’t make sense, Michael,” I said, breaking into our silence. “I know for a fact that Don and Deborah Long were still in the apartment across from the station watching me this morning.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, Cee.” He let out a loud yawn. “They were probably kept there to make sure you didn’t prevent them from escaping. They’ll meet up with the group later, no doubt about it.”

“But Illeana knows the journal is missing, she has to!” I contemplated. “She knew that Francesca/Rebecca wrote
about the cult going to West Virginia. She has to know that
we
know where she’s going.”

“Not necessarily. Remember, Rebecca wrote that last entry right before she was killed. After the murders, Kirk snuck up to her room and took it. Illeana never saw the last entry.”

“I never thought of that,” I admitted. “But she has to suspect that Kirk is going to give their destination to law enforcement. Are you going to have your people waiting in Beckley, West Virginia, just in case?”

Michael raised an eyebrow at me, a nonverbal indication that I knew better than to ask a question like that. I knew more not to ask for an answer.

All of the children and Rena were asleep when we got home. Michael and I dragged ourselves upstairs to rest up for what would predictably be an even longer day tomorrow. After checking on the children, we peeled off our clothes and fell into bed, sound asleep in seconds.

Surprisingly, the next day turned out to be fairly uneventful. The cult wasn’t found in West Virginia. In fact, they seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. I asked Michael how that was possible.

“As much money as they have, they’re certain to have safe houses all over the place. If they’re remote enough, they’ll be hard to find. You may have been right about Kirk, too. Maybe they had a secondary location and used it because they think Kirk gave them up.”

Obviously, in an event such as this, the media was all over the case. Illeana’s face was on every news station across the country every fifteen minutes. Arrest warrants for aggravated murder, kidnapping, and gross abuse of a corpse were issued for Illeana, Kenneth, Jake Ellis, Tyler Briggs, and Gary West; their pictures were streaming across televisions and newspapers as well. The number of
federal warrants for harboring weapons was over thirty. Wherever Illeana and her cult were, they were extremely uncomfortable and most likely having a hell of a time hiding out. It still concerned me that they hadn’t been found immediately. With all of the media coverage, it solidified my notion they had an intricate and well-thought-out plan.

Since I couldn’t get my hands on Illeana, I brought in the person closest to her: Jax Zapone. Of course, he was very uncooperative—at first. After calmly informing him that I may call the IRS, have a warrant issued as an accessory to murder, and have him disbarred, he was in my office within an hour. Michael, wearing his mischievous smile, sat behind him in the interview. Like most attorneys finding themselves on the other side of the law, he tried to control the interview. Tried, but failed miserably.

“Could we make this quick? I have a two o’clock appointment in Columbus,” he announced arrogantly.

I studied Jax Zapone; thin, with gel-soaked hair in an unbecoming comb-over, and pock marked face. His $10,000 watch told me his career defending degenerates was quite lucrative—but probably not for long.

“We’ll get you out of here as soon as possible, Jax—”

“I would prefer Mr. Zapone,” he interrupted.

“Okay then, Jax. The only thing I want to know, right here, right now, is where is Illeana Barron and her cult?” My face showed I wasn’t playing games.

His face turned three different shades of red, but I silently commended him on his conscious effort not to blow up at me for ignoring his title request.

“I have no idea. That’s it, then. Have a nice day.” He stood up.

“Okay, since you aided the cult in defying a court
order when the subpoena was issued, I’d say they may strongly consider jerking your license. And it shows me you’re dirty and you’re a liar. I can only assume based on the precedent you set for yourself, that you’re covering for her, and therefore, obstructing justice. As you know, the warrants for aggravated murder have been issued. You’re looking at a third-degree felony.” I stood up and faced him.

“Then charge me,” he challenged, smiling, calling my bluff.

“Jax Zapone, you are under arrest for obstructing justice in an aggravated murder investigation. I need you to turn around, place your hands behind your back, and interlock your fingers.” I grabbed my handcuffs and stepped toward him.

No longer smiling, he was, in fact, terrified. I’ve battled defense attorneys in similar scenarios before. They try to call your bluff, truly believing you don’t have enough to arrest them. In this case, I really didn’t, but I was upping the game to an entirely new level. Michael merely sat back, watching the scene unfold, smiling as he’d done many times before.

“What the fuck are you doing? You can’t arrest me, you don’t have shit! Where’s the sheriff?” He frantically looked around.

“Are you resisting? Michael, do you have your Taser with you?” I grabbed Jax’s arm.

Michael stood up and Jax Zapone conceded. I honestly thought he was going to vomit right there in my office, going by the gagging sounds he was making.

“You throw up, you clean it up.” I slammed him into a chair.

“Jus-Just give me a minute!” He started taking deep breaths. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you what I know, but please, believe me, it isn’t much. I’m telling the truth.”

I leaned in, stopping less than two inches from his face.

“Don’t you fuck with me, do you understand? You were protecting a monster who is ultimately and directly responsible for the deaths of seven people. I don’t play your fucking games and I have no qualms about throwing your ass in a cell for a very, very long time!” My eyes locked on his. “I’m tired of you arrogant, sniveling little pricks thinking you can fuck up an investigation and always get away with it. Not anymore—not today! You tell me what’s going on, and I’ll consider not throwing you in the hole with the scum you defend!”

He recoiled with alarm. I walked around my desk, sat down, and clasped my hands together.

“I’m listening.”

“Look, all I know is Illeana called two days ago to pull all the money out of the account and close it. She told me they were relocating and would no longer be needing my services. That’s it! I swear!” He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief.

“Where are they, Jax?”

“I don’t know! She said something about West Virginia, but she didn’t say where exactly, and I didn’t ask!”

“How much did she pay you to hide the money in the accounts?”

He looked at his shoes. “I—I don’t think I really have to tell you that. You know I could file a helluva lawsuit over this little meeting.”

I waved at him dismissively. “Take a number and get in line. It’ll be a long wait.”

I picked up the phone and made a brief, and very quiet, phone call. It was a matter of minutes before two uniformed officers arrived at my door.

I stood up. “Please take this man into custody and
book him in. I’ll be down in a while with a warrant for obstructing justice—a third-degree felony, no bond.”

“You told me I wouldn’t be charged if I cooperated!” He stood, incredulous.

“Yeah? Well, I lied.”

“You fucking bitch! I know what you’re about, Gallagher! I’ll have your fucking badge before this is all over!” The officers grabbed him and placed his handcuffs on.

“Why wait? You can have it now if you want. I really have no use for it, in fact, I’m looking to retire soon.” I smiled.

As the officers dragged Jax Zapone to jail, Michael couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s my girl. Do you really think you have enough to charge him with felony obstructing?”

“Nah. They’ll drop it to a misdemeanor, but I proved my point. I hate assholes like that, and he had his hand a lot deeper in Illeana’s affairs than he’s letting on.”

I chewed on that thought while I called the jail and told them to make room for their newest resident. I determined that the offer I put on the table, and later withdrew, would most likely be considered coercion and any possible charges facing him would be dropped. So I called a friend of mine at the IRS and the state bar association. He would have more than enough to occupy his time—Jax Zapone’s career was over.

Naomi allowed me to shadow Michael for the most part. Not that we had much choice; he took over my office, preferring to stay in the area in case a hot tip came in. The sheriff didn’t mind; in fact, he hadn’t spoken to me much since the day I ripped his ass. I felt awful about it, and decided to make it right. It had been three days and that was entirely too long for us to be at odds. I walked right into his office and shut the door before taking a seat in front of his desk. He was deeply engrossed in some paperwork on his desk and didn’t even look up.

“What can I do for you, CeeCee?” He kept his eyes on his paperwork, and sounded cold.

I stood up, took the paper off his desk, set it aside, and sat back down, wearing one of my famous million-dollar smiles, hoping it would do the trick. It did. Slowly, a slight grin began to spread across his face. Progress.

“All right, you have my attention,” he sighed.

“Good, because I owe you one hell of an apology, and I want your undivided attention when I give it—as you know, apologies are a rarity in my life.”

He laughed out loud, put his pen down, and looked at me intently, still holding a smile.

“Actually, CeeCee, I’m the one who owes
you
the apology. I’ve been wracking my brain for the last several days trying to figure out how I turned into this—”

“Sheriff, you’re still the same person you’ve always been, it was my—”

He put his hand up to silence me. “No, now listen. I know listening for you is as hard as apologizing.” He genuinely laughed. “You were right. I turned into one of those political assholes I spent my entire career resenting. I remember as an officer and supervisor the days I would go home stewing because the upper management never had balls to fight for what we believed in. When you said that I had become one of those people I just…” He paused, his smile fading. “I just had to take a good look in the mirror. It was a scary awakening, but I’m glad you told me. To think, those people could’ve possibly been saved…”

“Don’t do that, Sheriff,” I said. “I told Naomi the same thing. You’re right, I was angry and blamed you two, but in retrospect, none of us could have predicted such a horrendous outcome. Remember what I went through with Paula Terman. Even if you hadn’t pulled me off, it wouldn’t have mattered. Illeana Barron is walking evil, and no matter how hard we pushed or tried to stop her, she would have found a way to murder those people under our noses.”

The next few minutes were quiet, while we reflected on the past week, wondering what any of us could have done to stop it. There really were no answers. For the last several days, the nagging image of Lola and Kelly in place of the victims in the barn continued to haunt me. The lives this evil woman had taken pushed my anger to a level I had rarely known—a very personal level of anger. I wanted vengeance, I wanted to watch her die, and I
wanted her to see me watching her die. If I had to, I would go to hell and back to make my wish come true.

“Did you hear me?” the sheriff asked.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I was so deep in thought I hadn’t heard a word he’d said.

“I said, consider the matter closed—you and me, I mean. We’re as good as we’ve ever been. Okay?” He stood up and walked around his desk.

“Okay by me.” I stood up and gave him a friendly hug.

“Now go find this abominable woman and put her where she needs to be—whether it’s a jail cell or in the ground—I’ll be happy with either.” He winked.

“Now there’s the sheriff I know and love,” I laughed. “I think I would prefer the latter.” I winked back before leaving his office.

I felt a significant weight lifted after our conversation. I’ve never been one to accept “things left unsaid.”

When I got back to my own office, Michael was talking loudly on his phone, buried in piles of paperwork. I only caught the end of the conversation, but it lit my fire, nonetheless.

“…on my way. You sure it’s them? Okay, give me about two hours. I’ll get a plane to fly me down.” He slammed the phone down and stood up.

“They found them? Where?” I was elated.

“West Virginia, a remote mountain area outside of Beckley.” He was grabbing papers, keys, and his briefcase.

“I thought they had been watching the area? I thought the helicopters had been all over that place?”

“They did,” he said breathlessly as he strode toward the door, “but Illeana fucked up. One of her robots went into town to buy food—the agents tailed her back. They’re in several cabins at the bottom of a large gorge. They can’t be seen from the air.”

“Michael, slow down!” I was almost in a jog trying to keep up with him in the hall. “I’m going with you.”

He stopped immediately and turned around. “No, you’re not.”

I smiled. “Yes, I am.”

“She murdered Lola’s mother, Michael, and she murdered those innocent children and their parents. I told you, I will not stop until Illeana is finished. You know if you don’t take me with you, I’m just going to drive down there myself anyway.”

He looked a mite angry, but conceded. “There isn’t a doubt in my mind you would do that, even after everything you’ve been through. All right, let’s go. You need to call Rena and tell her.”

I hurried behind him, my adrenaline rising at the thought of facing Illeana Barron again. This time I would win the battle. I would not settle for any other outcome.

The FBI had a small charter plane waiting for us at the Mansfield Lahm airport. Within ten minutes, we were in the air: destination West Virginia. I had called Naomi on the way to the airport, and also Rena. Michael explained that over one hundred federal agents were gathering, along with ATF and local police, at the small airport just outside of Beckley. Other agents were strewn around the property, far enough away they had to use binoculars to keep an eye on the compound.

The scene at the airport was astounding. It had been closed to any air traffic except for incoming law enforcement
personnel. Agents, police, and SWAT teams stood in unison by the hundreds. I had never personally witnessed such an impressive gathering of law enforcement in my entire career. Since Michael was in charge of the case from the beginning, he was the ultimate leader of the largest raid in history. I couldn’t help but beam with pride as we stepped off the plane and the large crowd quieted. The boss had arrived, with his wife tagging along. They looked at him with respect and envy, nodding as he passed them by. Michael had made a name for himself, with a little help from me, and it was apparent on their faces they had been waiting to rub elbows with the famous Michael Hagerman.

Michael, of course, paid no attention. He walked toward the airport hangar where the top officials had gathered to prepare the execution of the raid. I watched with utter admiration as Michael took the lead, reminded of why I fell in love with him years before.

Michael was at the large board, marking points for entry on a satellite photo of the area, when a cell phone rang. Stan Henderson, another top agent from Washington, answered. His face went pale within seconds, and I immediately knew something was very, very wrong.

“…team C will enter through this area here,” Michael continued.

“Um…Agent Hagerman, Michael?” Stan interrupted, his voice trembling. “I need to speak with you, immediately.”

Michael looked confused until he, too, saw the look on Stan’s face.

“Mark, take it from here, will you?” Michael handed off his pen to another agent before walking away to talk to Stan.

I had an overwhelming urge to butt in, but decided
against it. Whatever the problem was, we would all undoubtedly hear about it very soon. But when I saw Michael’s expression mirror Stan’s, my concern grew into sheer panic. For some reason, my immediate thought was that it had to do with our own family. The thought of Illeana going back for Lola crossed my mind and I just about came unglued.
Fuck this!
I thought as I headed toward Michael. I wasn’t going to wait with everybody else. I wanted to know what was going on, and I wanted to know now.

“Michael, what is it?” My voice was trembling.

“CeeCee, I’ll tell you in a minute. Would you please go back with the others?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Tell me what’s going on!” I raised my voice.

He sighed. Then he reached up and began rubbing his eyes with one hand, nodding toward the group. Stan got the hint and walked away.

“There’s a serious problem…” Michael began.