Cooper sucked in a breath. “My wife…she’s…” He closed his eyes. “She was a yoga instructor. Taught all kinds of different hours. I did my best to work around her needs.”
“What is it you do?” Sam asked.
Cooper’s gaze shuttered. “Some stuff for Spaceport.”
The Spaceport was a large installation in the southern part of the state, near White Sands Missile Range. With over six thousand square miles of restricted air space and both horizontal and vertical launch capabilities, the facility was state-of-the-art and closed, which meant Sam was about as familiar with it as the average New Mexican. He knew that some companies wanted to offer consumer travel to the moon from the location.
“Oh?” Sam asked. The guy was relatively young—in his late thirties, maybe early forties, but his bearing said ex-military. Maybe that’s why he worked at the port—in some kind of security capacity.
Cooper ignored Sam’s gentle probing.
“Jay started preschool two days a week. I guess…yeah, he’s been going about a month. I changed around my hours so I could pick him up.
“When I got home yesterday…” Cooper’s voice cracked. “When I got home yesterday, she was in the…” He gestured to the barrel. His pain rippled off him.
But, at the same time, Sam got the sense that Cooper understood death—he’d seen it up close and personal before.
“Were you in the military, Mr. Urlich?” Sam asked, wanting to confirm what he’d already decided.
“Yeah. Stationed in Okinawa for a couple of years about fifteen years ago.”
“You’ve been out a while, then,” Sam said, still fishing for information because something here wasn’t adding up.
“I did my time,” Cooper said, his gaze snapping to Sam’s. “Honorable discharge. And I was quite pleased to exit the complex.”
“When did you get married?”
“Almost six years ago,” Cooper said.
“You met your wife here?”
“No, in South Carolina. She’s from this area and wanted to move back.” He glanced around the cluttered garage as if trying to visualize a world without Patti in it. His shoulders slumped.
“What happened after you pulled in?” Raynor asked.
Cooper pressed the knuckle of his index finger to his lips. He sucked in a deep breath and released it. “I tried to pull her out, but I couldn’t. So I grabbed the garden shears and cut the rope and kicked the barrel over. Then, I dragged her out.”
“Where was your son during all this?” Sam asked. He shot Raynor a look to see if he’d overstepped, but Raynor’s eyes widened and he nodded once.
“Jay was asleep in the Suburban. He almost always naps on the way home.” Cooper tipped his head toward the large SUV parked a foot, maybe less, from where they stood.
“And you didn’t wake him?” Raynor asked.
Cooper narrowed his eyes and straightened to his full height. Sam watched offense roll off the father.
“I would never leave my son in a hot car, Detective,” he spat.
“But you just said he stayed in the car,” Raynor said.
Cooper threw up his hands, clearly frustrated. “I hopped out as soon as I saw Patti.” His voice cracked. “I was worried about her. I didn’t take the time to carry my napping son inside first.”
“You told me yesterday that you cleared out the space in the garage and would let your son sleep in his car seat if the temperatures are cool enough to do so safely. Yesterday, it never got to seventy degrees.”
“Yesterday was the first time Patti and I decided we’d let him nap in his car seat. We both worried about it.”
Sam had the sense that Cooper and Patti worried about a lot of potential safety hazards for their son, which would explain the barrel lashed to the door.
Raynor held up his hands, palms out. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I wanted to get a sense of your routine.”
“When it’s hot out, I drive him around for a while. I mean, it’s hard enough to get him to nap as it is.”
“What time does your son’s preschool get out?” Sam asked.
“Twelve-thirty.”
Sam nodded. “So, what time would you normally arrive back at the house?”
Cooper shifted his weight so he no longer faced the barrel. Each time he’d glanced in that direction, he’d winced. “Um…sometimes I’ll drive Jay around for an hour. So, between one-thirty and two.”
“And yesterday?”
Cooper’s face crumpled. “I got home at about twelve-fifty. I’d left at twelve-ten, maybe twelve-fifteen.” He scrubbed at his cheeks. “The thing was, I wasn’t supposed to pick him up yesterday,” Cooper added. “But Patti wasn’t feeling great. If I’d stayed home or if I’d…”
Sam wanted to lay a hand on the guy’s arm, offer some comfort, but Cooper’s muscles remained stiff as if he was unwilling to be touched.
“And your son goes to—” Sam looked over at Raynor.
“The Montessori school off of I-25 and Old Pecos,” Raynor replied.
Based on the location of their house, Sam doubted the drive took fifteen minutes. But he didn’t doubt Patti’s death would fall in that time span.
“What happened next?” Sam asked. Raynor might have already heard this, but something about this story bothered Sam. He glanced over at his former colleague, and the man tipped his head just enough for Sam to notice. Good. He wasn’t upset.
“After I dragged Patti out of the barrel, I did mouth to mouth, chest compressions. I was screaming at her to wake up.” He huffed and cleared his throat. “I called nine-one-one and went back to CPR.”
“How long did it take for the ambulance to get here?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know. Too damn long,” Cooper snapped.
“And your son didn’t wake up during this?” Sam asked.
“Jay woke up when the EMTs and police showed up, swarming all over the garage. He thought they were pretty cool.” Cooper smiled a little at the remembrance. “I tried to shield Jay. His little eyes and mind are too young to process his mom’s death. But he was interested in the cat.”
“What cat?” Sam asked, looking around.
Cooper’s scowl was fierce. “I have no idea if it was a cat or a packrat or something else.”
“But your son saw an animal?”
Cooper shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “That’s what he said. I caught sight of something, but it jumped.”
“Jumped?” Sam asked.
Cooper pointed up into the hanging bike racks.
“Mind if I take a look?” Sam asked.
Cooper shrugged. “Ladder’s in the corner.”
Sam walked toward the ladder but Raynor was the one who gathered it. He set it up and gestured to Sam.
“You want to go?” Sam asked.
Raynor nodded, eager, and started up the rungs. He peered over the edge. A low, sibilant hiss caused Raynor to yelp. A second, angrier one caused Raynor to fall back. Sam caught most of his weight as Raynor tumbled off the ladder.
“Whoa!”
Cooper lunged forward and broke Sam’s fall as he buckled under the weight of the other man. They stood slowly, untangling limbs as they went.
Sam winced; thankful nothing was broken. Raynor’s hand bore a large scrape but he seemed otherwise intact, just shaken.
“Jeff? You okay?” Sam asked.
“Yeah. Some bruises and a nasty scratch. Definitely a cat,” Raynor gasped, clutching his hand. Beads of blood dripped between his fingers.
“Your wife’s hands and arms were scratched,” Raynor said.
“You think the cat scratched her?” Cooper asked.
“It’s possible the cat reacted negatively when she reached in to get it out,” Sam said.
Cooper shook his head, turning dubious. “No. She wouldn’t have messed with a cat.”
“Even to save it?” Raynor asked, shock bouncing through his voice. “I mean, it’s a feisty one, but—”
“She’s…she was allergic.
Anaphylactic shock allergic. She couldn’t touch cats.”
8
Cici
The way to right wrongs is to turn the light of truth upon them. ― Ida B. Wells-Barnett
* * *
In the house, Cici continued to shiver while Jay kept up a running commentary as he pushed around his train. His favorite topic was his mother. The air around the two of them remained charged, expectant.
“She likes to bake cookies. When she comes back, we’re going to make peanut butter ones.”
“Those sound good,” Cici said.
“My mommy loves them. So I do, too.” Jay looked up at her with shadowed eyes. “Do you know when my mommy will come home?”
Cici leaned in and brushed his hair off his small brow. His expression held both anxiety and hope. “What has your dad told you?”
Jay seemed to hesitate. “He said Mommy isn’t coming back. She’s gone. But I saw her yesterday and she sang me the song.” His small lip jutted out and he looked petulant.
“What song?” Cici asked.
“The song that says whoever loves you comes back.”
“I’m sure she would if she could,” Cici said, her chest squeezing for the small boy who was both defiant and scared, grasping to understand the world around him. She tucked her hands under her bent legs, trying to warm them between her calves and thighs.
“But I want my mommy. It’s not the cat’s fault.” His chin trembled.
“No, it’s not the cat’s fault your mom isn’t here, sweetie,” Cici said.
“I like how the kitty meows.” Jay made the sound a few more times.
Cici smiled as inspiration struck. “You can pet your cat and talk to it about how much you miss your mom.”
Jay’s eyes widened, and he took off down the hall. He charged back, holding a stuffed tiger about the size of a tissue box. From its tattered ears, Cici surmised this was a favorite toy.
He plunked down on the floor next to Cici and began a gentle cooing as he stroked the faux fur that was clumped in spots.
“This is Leo. I love him. My mommy gave him to me.”
Cici patted the stuffy’s forehead as Jay beamed at her.
The cold breeze drifted across the back of Cici’s neck, causing the hairs there to rise and her to shiver.
Yes, I get it, Aci. I’m supposed to pay attention to this moment. A little more direction would be really helpful.
More than anything, Cici wanted to be able to hug and then shake her twin. This inability to communicate with her as they used to caused frustration to leak out of Cici’s every pore—and at the same time, she treasured even this tiny connection.
“Don’t you have a live—real—cat?” Cici asked. “The one that meows.”
“This is my kitty. The real one just visits sometimes.”
The air temperature seemed to drop further and Cici shivered as she struggled to pay attention to Jay’s words.
“I can’t have a real one because Mommy’s allergic. The dan-ber makes her itchy and her face swells up.”
Jay blew out his cheeks.
“Ah,” Cici said.
“I saw it one time. The cat from down the street came in the garage with Daddy one day, and my mommy had to shove the pin into her leg.” He leaned in closer. “The needle was long and Mommy said it hurt but she needed to get a shot to make herself feel better.”
Cici’s mind raced and she scanned the space. This stuffed animal…the talk of a real cat…an allergic reaction…She shivered as the icy touch skittered over her neck and pooled in her collar.
Cici must be missing something—something her sister wanted her to know or to observe.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, but we treat Leo like he’s real. Mommy and I pretend because I want a kitty. Leo took a bath in the water so he’d be nice and clean for bed.”
Cici touched the cat, swiping her finger through the stiff fibers. She pulled her fingers away and rubbed them, trying to dissipate the white powder there.
She didn’t need her sister’s frigid brush of air to know something was off.
“Did you see the real cat…the meowing cat again?” she asked.
“Not since last year. It smiled at me before it meowed.”
“Oh, how nice,” Cici said. Something wasn’t adding up.
“Now that Mommy’s gone, maybe Daddy will get me a real one,” Jay said, excitement lacing his tone. “Like the cat that visited us last month.”
“Last month? I thought it was last year.”
Jay shrugged. Clearly, the concept of time wasn’t relevant to his mind, which meant that the cat probably showed up more recently.
“Is that on Tuesday?” he asked. “Cuz I wanted to pat it, but mommy said no.”
Cici glanced up as Sam tromped back in the house with Detective Raynor and Cooper, their expressions guarded.
“There’s a cat in the garage,” Sam said.
“Jay’s been telling me about his mom’s allergy,” Cici said. “How the cat’s been hanging around.”
“Remember when it wanted to be pet, Daddy?” Jay asked.
“We’re not petting the cat,” Cooper said. He looked and sounded tired.
Jay stuck out his lower lip. “I like kitties.”
“Well, this kitty doesn’t seem to like us,” Cooper said, motioning to Raynor’s bloody hand. “Let me bandage you up.”
Jay shoved out his lower lip. “It let me pet it and it curled around Mommy’s legs.”
That touch of cold once again slithered down Cici’s neck. She gritted her teeth to keep from shouting What? Her twin couldn’t answer but the not knowing what Aci wanted her to know caused Cici’s head to pound.
Was her sister truly happy helping her? Or…Cici felt like she’d slammed into the Pecos River in January. Oh, Lord, she’d never considered the possibility before. What if her twin couldn’t move along to her final resting place because Cici was holding her back?
Cooper moved to a cabinet and pulled out a first-aid kit as Cici tried to regulate her breathing. “We keep this in here because of Patti’s allergies,” he said.
Cici had to be wrong. She had to be. No way she’d be so selfish to keep her sister from Heaven. How would Cici even go about trying to rectify a stuck soul?
He opened the kit and riffled through the items. He pulled out a band-aid and some antibiotic ointment.
“Huh,” he said.
“What’s that?” Sam asked.
“One of Patti’s Epi-Pens is missing,” he said. “That’s really strange. We always keep two here.”
Sam waited for Cooper’s nod before he asked, “What else is she allergic to?”
Cooper looked up, confusion swirling in his eyes. His gaze darted back to the garage, no doubt thinking about the cat. He swallowed.
“Nothing.”
9
Cici
Sometimes we reveal ourselves when we are least like ourselves. ― Anaïs Nin
* * *
Cici still didn’t see the big picture her sister kept trying to freeze into her brain, and the added worry of destroying Aci’s afterlife hung over her shoulders. She’d deal with that possibility—and soon.
Right now, Cici needed to see the cat, but she worried Jay would want to keep it.
Before Jay could run to Cooper, Cici clasped him by the wrist in a gentle grip. “I’d like to meet the kitty in your garage, but this may not be the perfect time to ask for one of your own,” she said, one eye on Cooper. “Plus, wouldn’t Leo get sad?”
“Oh,” Jay said, his expression turning solemn. “He would because he’s already sad Mommy left.”
“Then for now, let’s wait to ask your dad for a meowing cat.” Cici smiled at the boy but shot Sam an I-need-to-talk-to-you look. His eyes narrowed a fraction before he dipped his head.
“Thank you for the bandage and for clarifying those details,” Detective Raynor said. He shoved his hands in his pockets and tossed a brief glance at Sam. “Want to help me get the cat o
ut of the garage?”
Cici frowned. They needed the cat—or at least to capture images of it.
“Let’s open the door, see if that works,” Cooper said.
“Wait,” Cici said.
The men must not have heard her because they trooped over to the entrance to the house. Cici moved more slowly.
“Wait,” she called louder but Cooper had already pressed the button to release the larger two-car garage door. It clinked upward on well-oiled rails.
“Can we capture it?” Cici asked.
Sam glanced back at her. “Why?”
She looked at him, long and hard. He turned back to the cat before she managed to convey her point.
Frustration boiled up in her gut.
“We need the animal,” she said, trying to push past the three men standing at the threshold.
A large orange-and-gray tabby leaped lightly onto the ladder and eased down, each step causing his shoulders to flex. Something shiny glinted in the light and Cici noticed its collar.
“Did you see who it belonged to?” she asked, exasperated as the men continued to stand there.
Raynor snorted. “I’m not getting close to that thing again. It tried to take off my face.”
“Not to mention break your leg,” Cooper added, a faint smile blooming before he seemed to remember the cat played a part in his wife’s death.
“I think—” Cici began before she was cut off.
“That’s Tiger,” Jay announced his voice filled with excitement. “He lets me pet him.”
“You’re the only one,” Raynor muttered.
“Is he a stray?” Sam asked, finally catching on that the cat was important to her. He strode forward but his movements only made the cat run faster. For a big fellow, he could really speed off.
Cici clenched her fists together in frustration. They watched as the cat hit the garage floor, bolted out into the sunlight and zipped left. He jumped a coyote fence and disappeared into the neighbor’s yard.
Sam turned back to Cooper and offered him his hand. “I’m really sorry for your loss. If you think of anything else about yesterday, be sure to call Detective Raynor.”
A Revelation of Death Page 4
