Cleansed by Death

by Catherine Finger

  This was going from uncomfortable to weird. She was teasing me. I just wanted to be done—to get back to my office, and get back to the serial killer case.

  “Well, first off, I hate him.”

  “Mmm, go on.” Her smile had grown Cheshire-like.

  “Aren’t you going to write this down?”

  “Now, Jo, you know I never forget a thing you say. Do go on.”

  “What can I say? You know the story. I really don’t want to tell it again. I did my job. I was a pretty good wife. Del cheated—found somebody else. And I’d be lying to say I don’t hate him. Shoot, I hate myself. And I’m so angry, I could kill him with my bare hands.”

  “What about his friend? Do you want to kill her with your bare hands, too? Why don’t we start there?” She smiled, clearly enjoying this. She was evil.

  A wave of darkness came over me, jumbling my thoughts. The pounding in my temples worsened, and I got so dizzy I thought I might fall over. Horrible pictures from my marriage and from the Mentor Sister Serial Killer crime scenes merged. I tried to edge away from the terrible bits and pieces of pictures floating around me, but I could barely move—like I was trying to walk through a force field of cosmic molasses.

  As the dark consumed me, bone-deep, razor-sharp fear gripped me, but at the moment the unseen darkness overpowered me, a light space opened up in the far reaches of my mind. A deep peace spread through me, relaxing my body, freeing my mind, and calming my spirit.

  Strong, clear words bubbled up from nowhere. I know my sheep, and my sheep know me. I stared at the movie screen in my mind’s eye as another set of crystal-clear words took shape. You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.

  The dark pictures faded away, replaced by a sweet-smelling field of prairie flowers in a sunny valley, housed between lush mountains, on a beautiful day. A Magnificent Being stepped out from behind one of the mountains and revealed Himself to me. Somehow I knew it was God. He was glorious and beautiful beyond description. In His arms, He tenderly carried a little girl. He held her as if she were His only child.

  It was me in His arms—a little girl version of me.

  He wrapped His strong arms around my little-girl self, overwhelming me with feelings of warmth and safety, peace and power. I closed my eyes for a moment, leaning into His pure warmth. A strength I didn’t know I had grew from deep within me. I smiled and opened my eyes.

  Whatever had just gone on in my head, I didn’t understand. My strength returned. My deepest sense of self—my balance, hope, and peace—was restored. The presence and the power of God sat next to me on the sofa. His Spirit was so real, I could almost touch Him. His light warmed me, rocking me to the depths of my soul.

  In the vision, where once there had been darkness and pain, now there was peace. And through the warmth came the same message again. Greater is the one who is in you than the one who is in the world.

  I didn’t know where those words came from, or how long that vision had played out in my head. Was it a moment? An hour? A day? Had Kira seen it too? The vision had shown me how my life could look, if I would acknowledge God existed and invite Him into a relationship with me. God would live inside me and He would conquer the darkness on my behalf.

  My confusion disappeared. I knew why I was there and how I would answer her questions about my mental health so that I could get clearance to return to work. I kept my head down in a show of false humility, allowing her to continue to assert authority over me. She’d been silent during my inner turmoil. What was she thinking?

  It was time to put an exit plan in motion. “Kira, my marriage was bad. Del was and is an abusive jerk. I didn’t deserve what he did to me. I can’t change what happened, but I’ll survive this.” I took a deep breath to calm myself. “And Del? I haven’t even begun to think about him. I’m devastated. I’m overwhelmed. But I’ll get through this. I’m not alone. End of story. Now, why don’t you sign this release, and let’s call it a day.”

  God nudged me, and I opened my purse, grabbed the fitness-for-duty form, and handed it to her.

  She had me over a barrel, and she knew it. I could return to duty without being formally evaluated, but she knew I wanted to be a role model to my staff. How many times had I forced my staff to her office as an unofficial way of clearing them before returning to work? Time to put your money where your mouth is, Oliver. I braced myself for her next assault. I fully expected a fight, more of the twisted repartee she’d started this session with. Instead, there was more silence.

  She sat back in her chair, eyes narrowed. She held her fancy pen between slender fingers. She never once looked at the page as she signed, dated, and returned it.

  I rose to my feet. God’s warmth, His comfort, and His presence enveloped me. I couldn’t wait to tell Gino about my encounter with what had to be the one true God. I turned, giving Kira an over-the-shoulder glance, as I walked out her door without another word.

  I left Kira’s office with peace, trimmed in what could only be described as joy. Not that happy Christmas morning kind of joy, but something more profound and far-reaching. The lingering sweetness of the moment I’d experienced with that Magnificent Being in the meadow filled me with longing to return to His presence. Every part of my life seemed to be shifting and changing at such a rapid rate, even this new bundle of oppositional forces didn’t surprise me. Who knew what would happen next? I just hoped He would be there to help me face whatever came next—whenever.

  When the taxi dropped me off, the police station was a ghost town. I arranged for my squad car to be retrieved from the Mexican restaurant. After that, it was easy to dodge any meaningful human contact and hide out in my office until mid-afternoon, sorting holiday cards, reading reports, and surfing the federal databases in search of clues about the Mentor Sister Serial Killer. Mitch could handle this evening’s ceremony at the college just fine without me. I was clicking open another file when my desk phone rang.

  “Chief Oliver.”

  “Hey, Josie.”

  “Nick! Just the man I’m looking for.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that... finally.”

  “Calm down, tiger. I was just searching through ViCAP for updates. You got anything?”

  “No. He’s remained dormant so far.”

  “Good. I hope we make it through the holidays this quiet. I’ve got enough horrors of my own.”

  “One woman’s horror is another man’s opportunity. When you coming home? You must’ve opened all your holiday greetings and moved your pens from one corner of your desk to another enough by now.”

  “Home? What do you mean by ‘home’ exactly?”

  “Why don’t you come on home and find out? I’ve decided to stick close to you for the foreseeable future. And you seem to have plenty of room right now, so I didn’t think you’d mind if I rented out a spot in your basement.”

  “As in, the one located underneath my house?”

  He laughed. “Yes.”

  “Without even asking me or checking to make sure I have a renter’s permit?”

  “I bought groceries.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Of course.”

  “Ice cream?”

  “C’mon, beautiful. You won’t even know I’m here. I’ll be the model boarder. Besides, with the way this case is going, you’ll see my pretty face only at the station. See you in twenty.”

  He hung up before I could object, and I sat alone for a moment, smiling. I wouldn’t have to face my empty life completely alone. I’d never really been a landlord before, but how hard could it be?

  “Hi, honey. I’m home!” I couldn’t resist tossing the comfortable refrain to Nick as I walked through the door. Delicious Italian aromas lured me down the hall into the kitchen, and I wondered out loud if he might like to resign his current position and cook for me full time. I assured him his sauces alone would make it worth the expense.

  He tossed me
an apron from across the kitchen. “Baby, it’ll take more than your sauce-whipped self flattering me to even make me consider working for you. But your love for all things Nick does give you an edge over the current competition. And being the mercenary I am, I’m perfectly willing to give you the opportunity to court me.”

  I stepped around the island as he finished his retort and hugged him hard enough to stop his talking for half a breath. The telltale key lay on the counter. Another mystery solved. Must’ve gotten it from Donna. He kissed me on the forehead, gently pulling away as he looked me up and down and resumed his speech.

  “But not in that outfit. Why don’t you head upstairs and throw on some jeans while I finish up this sauce? I’ve got something I want to run by you when you come down.”

  “Okay.”

  I stood in the archway, watching him for a moment, overwhelmed with peace and joy. My short solitary confinement had opened to let in a little light, offering me enough clarity to see that I was never alone. Even in those darkest moments, I’d been surrounded by the love of a God who sought me, even though I hated Him, hated myself. My heart swelled with gratitude. Gratitude? Me? Where’d that come from? I liked this new feeling. A lot.

  Halfway up the stairs, I paused. Something was different. The stairwell had been repainted! And not only painted, but plastered. Each and every garish hole kicked or scratched into these walls not three days ago had been smoothed over and painted, erasing all evidence of my angry, exiting, soon-to-be-ex-husband.

  At the top of the stairs, the woodwork glimmered all glossy and bright. Donna and her merry band of carpenters even managed to touch up the baseboards all the way up the stairs and around this little landing. The door to my bedroom looked brand new. As I entered the room, I stopped to take it all in, hugging myself.

  The last time I stood there, the walls were ugly, bare, and broken—windows left open, curtains and shades ripped down, wall mountings half in and half out. Nick and Donna had completely cleaned up the room. They must’ve hired carpet and window cleaners too. They’d had the walls and ceiling painted bright white, and one long, windowless wall featured yellow wallpaper adorned with white roses, capped by a simple white wooden chair rail running from corner-to-corner. I’d walked into a new beginning.

  Underneath a panel of windows that overlooked the small lake near my home sat a folded pair of worn and faded blue jeans. Donna had chosen my all-time favorite brand of jeans in my size and laid them out on the freshly cleaned carpet underneath this sunny spot. She’d even washed them. An old FBI hoodie was sprawled out over a walnut chair in the corner of the windowed alcove. I kicked off my navy pumps, dropped my skirt to the floor, and ditched my nylons. My feet sank into the plush carpet. I grabbed the sun-warmed jeans off the floor. The soft, worn fabric caressed my thighs as I tugged the jeans into place by the belt loops and fastened the button fly.

  I took off my suit jacket and teased my silk blouse over my head, squirming happily into the fleece hoodie before hurrying back down to the kitchen.

  Nick turned and flashed a hundred-watt smile. “You look great.” He handed me a cup of strong, fresh coffee. “You’re gonna live, sweetheart. I know it may not feel like it, but you’re gonna live. Now drink up. I added cream and sweetener… just the way you like it.”

  “Nick, I…”

  “Just relax. I’m here for you, and I’m going to do everything in my power to bring you out of this black hole and keep you safe.”

  “You shouldn’t... you didn’t have to…”

  I was a blubbering idiot. Words failed me as I struggled to share my deepest gratitude with my best friend. Without success. All I could do was stand in front of him, with my heart in my hands. He caressed my cheek and moved a strand of hair away from my face.

  “It’s what friends do for each other. It’s nothing but a coat of paint, a couple of ounces of putty, and a few favors called in from some guys who owe me. There’s much more to come over the next couple of weeks. Christmas came early. And nothing’s free, babe. You know that. I already have a few ideas for a little quid pro quo when you feel up to tackling our serial killer case again. Plus, you haven’t made me coffee in years.” He laughed, and mischief twinkled in his eyes.

  “Yeah, right. Like you’d even let me make you coffee. You’re impossible to please. I’d have to buy an espresso machine and make you one of those fancy drinks. And I’d never get the temperature and the foam just right.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I have much bigger plans for you than that, my friend.”

  “Do tell. And please make sure said plans involve some shopping on the side.”

  “Snap out of it. I got business on the brain. I got a special little project, and I think you can help me out like no one else can.”

  “What?”

  “Ah…” He stepped closer. “You’re just going to have to join me for dinner if you want to hear what I have in mind for you. And, by the way, you look amazing in those jeans. Love your bare feet.”

  Nick launched into an opera song and pulled a smile out of me as I padded over to the counter. I drained my coffee and set the cup in the sink. He turned and offered me a delicately stemmed crystal glass of sparkling water.

  “These aren’t my glasses.”

  “Housewarming gift... from me.”

  “Thanks. You have great taste in crystal.” I smiled and took a sip.

  “So, Nomad’s coming up for pre-trial.”

  “Nomad?”

  “Sure. Nomad. You gotta get out more. Read a paper, watch the news. Take your mind off your own worries.”

  I stared at him.

  He rolled his eyes as if talking to a fourth grader and continued. “Okay, let’s review. Two days ago, a guy who calls himself Nomad—real name’s Cal Terry—became instantly famous during an evening homeowners’ association meeting north of here. Ringing any bells?”

  “Okay, yeah, but not all the details.” A sick feeling gurgled in my stomach. I remembered it all right. I just didn’t want to.

  “Nomad is the all-American dad who decided to reduce living expenses by whacking his entire family. Left ’em in the basement while he tried to figure out what to do with them. Long enough to get a fine from his HOA for foul odors. Ticked him off, so he decided to go to the next board meeting of the association... armed.”

  “Right, I do remember. Turned out there was an off-duty cop on the board, noticed something strange about Nomad from the get-go, and just happened to have his own piece on the ready, right?” I drank the cool, lemony water while Nick placed white dinner plates on the counter. I had forgotten the guy’s name. “I just thought of him as Crazy Homeowner Guy.” I added forks and knives to the place settings.

  “Makes sense, given the media blitz. That’s exactly how he was referred to at the time.” Nick turned to inspect the pasta boiling on the stove.

  “Didn’t homeowner Terry go off somewhere during the meeting, and the cop jumped him?” I turned to open the fridge, searching for a refill.

  “Yeah, but it was right up front, during the public comments portion of the meeting. And the off-duty cop was a woman. She gave him the eye, and he freaked, but she had her weapon out before he could take the safety off his .38.”

  I poured myself another glass of the soothing liquid. “And that was when everybody panicked and fled.”

  “Yep. One guy even jumped out a window, which was pathetic as it was right next to the door, and his wife, who he completely forgot all about, was left standing alone in the line of fire.” He headed toward the sink, colander in hand.

  “Oh, yeah. Then in the confusion, the off-duty cop shot the perp in the leg and cuffed him before he knew what hit him. What a piece of work that guy was. And what a shame about the psycho’s family.” I shook my head, trying not to picture the crime scene.

  “That’s Nomad. Given that he was carrying a concealed weapon, they got a search warrant for other firearms, and that’s when they found his family members in an advanced stage o
f decomp in the basement.”

  “Each one with a clean hole in the head. Twenty-two caliber, execution style. Some family man. Why the sudden interest in Terry?” I dug out some paper napkins from a bag on the counter.

  “Well, the crime happened just about on the state line, and jurisdiction’s been a battle. His house was in Paradise County, which is where the bodies were found, but the HOA’s clubhouse is located in Wisconsin, which is where the takedown happened. So, Nomad’s got a court date coming up next week here in Paradise County, and he needs an escort from the jail in Springfield to the local courthouse. That’s where you come in.”

  “Why me? I’ve got no interest or jurisdiction in this case. Besides, the FBI took over, and the evidence couldn’t be clearer. So what’s the deal? He into something bigger? What’s in this for you? Or me, for that matter?”

  “This is still speculation, but a guy like him, he’d be a pretty good match for our unsub. He traveled a lot on his job. We can’t prove it yet, but he looks real good for the Mentor Sister Serial Killer. And it coincides with the silence on his end. Lotta times these guys escalate for the holidays. It’s a longshot, I know. Anyway, I wanted you to do the babysitting of him during his transport to the court hearing.”

  The holidays? I hadn’t made the connection between our killer and the holiday season. Until now. A cream-colored envelope. An uneven, black scrawl. My first, middle, and last name—handwritten. A Christmas seal on the back. The blood drained from my face, and a dull pounding started in my temples.

  Nick stopped his meal prep and studied my face. “What is it?”

  “I got an odd Christmas card at the station a few weeks back. I didn’t think anything of it. I honestly just thought it was from some well-meaning village official and put it up with the rest of my cards. It’s probably nothing.”

  “What’s probably nothing?”

  “Well, didn’t the Mentor Sister Serial Killer send personal notes to his victims before making contact with them? And find a benign way to meet them before making the grab?”