A Revelation of Death

by Alexa Padgett

  That was consistent with the facial bruising Benson noted around Patti’s mouth and nose.

  “But I think she tried. She kept trying.”

  “Because she knew Cooper would be back soon,” Sam said.

  Not that Sam planned to tell Cooper these details. The poor man was dealing with enough grief, and Sam refused to pour on additional guilt.

  “So, he’s shoving pills down her throat, they’re struggling.” Sam frowned. “We didn’t get a lot of bruising like I’d expect in a hard struggle.”

  The dogs picked up on some cue either he or Cici gave off and returned to their bed, tangling up their bodies to fit in the same space.

  “The cat,” Cici cried.

  “The one in the garage?” Sam asked.

  “No, no. The stuffed one. That’s why my fingers were coated in the residue! Patti managed to break away again and spat out some of the Benadryl. It landed on Jay’s stuffed animal.”

  “Where did this occur?”

  She narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge the location. Her brows knit in frustration and her hazel eyes turned stormy. “In the garage. It was on the floor. Maybe the stuffed animal fell out of the car when Cooper went to get Jay or something like that.”

  Sam reached over and clasped her hand in his. “Will you finish telling me what you know?”

  Cici shrugged. “He kept shoving pills into her mouth, Patti kept spitting them out. He was so big. He seemed to tower over Patti.”

  At this, she shivered. Retelling the story caused her pain. Sam wished he had the twin connection with Anna Carmen so that he could see these visions—so that he could take the burden from her.

  Cici wouldn’t want him to do so, but, then, she was always thinking about others. Sam figured his job was to make sure she got the time and care she needed.

  “He saw the rain barrel, and shoved her in it, no doubt trying to subdue her—get her to stop fighting him.”

  Shoving her face into the barrel explained the shredded screen. The mesh would have abraded Patti’s chin and cheek as he forced her face down.

  “There was binding involved?” Sam asked.

  Cici closed her eyes, her forehead crunched with concentration. “I…I don’t know,” she said after another long pause.

  “Patti spit out as many of the pills as she could, but I think she wasn’t doing great by then. Probably sluggish from the drugs and from fighting him off. She kept trying. I’m pretty sure she did some damage to his shins.”

  “Good to know,” Sam said. “I hope they hurt.”

  “Me, too,” Cici said on a sigh. “She was running out of air by then and had stopped struggling. I think…I think he would have raped her then, but Cooper arrived back at the house.”

  “Early. Because Cooper brought Jay straight home,” Sam said, settling back against the seat cushion, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “How’d he miss the guy?” Sam asked.

  Cici pressed shaking hands to her cheeks. She was pale, her mouth taut.

  “Side door out to the backyard. He slipped out that way.”

  “We didn’t have any fingerprints,” Sam said.

  “He wore gloves,” Cici said, blinking. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you that part.”

  “Makes sense. I feel for Cooper. He must have been a moment too late to save Patti. The ME sent me his preliminary findings. Her lungs were full of water. She drowned.”

  “Yes,” Cici said. Exhaustion pulled at her mouth and eyes.

  Sam wanted to ask how she was—if the stress was too much—but he didn’t, knowing Cici needed to feel in control of the situation.

  “As I’ve told you before, rapists might have a type, but they also look for vulnerability, availability. As he did with Patti.”

  “I get the sense he was waiting specifically for her,” Cici said.

  Sam made another note on his pad. “If he was, then he was aware of her schedule. Just not that Patti and Cooper changed their days to fit around Jay’s nap schedule.” Sam tapped the pad. “Or…he had another way he chose his victims.”

  13

  Sam

  Bullies are always cowards at heart and may be credited with a pretty safe instinct in scenting their prey. ― Anna J. Cooper

  * * *

  The call from the OMI tech Lainey came late in the evening—after nine, and it wasn’t good news.

  Sam noted the UNM digits and told Cici he needed to take the call. She glanced up from her book and nodded. He stepped down the hall into the small second bedroom. The room smelled of disuse and the navy comforter Cici bought for him was slightly awry. He answered the phone and then settled back against the pillows and pulled out his notebook.

  “This could have waited until the morning,” Sam said when she introduced herself.

  “Benson said you needed it ASAP.”

  “Well, true, but I don’t want you working yourself into a coma.”

  Lainey laughed, a bright, bubbly sound completely out of place with the topic. “I happen to love what I do, and the only thing waiting for me at home is a half-dead Christmas cactus.”

  “All right, but if you don’t set parameters now, it’ll be harder to do later,” Sam said.

  He winced at the unsolicited advice—and how he sounded like his former lieutenant. What a difference a decade in the field made.

  “You sound like Benson,” Lainey said, her tone frostier. “So, the water in the barrel contained the normal algae and bacteria buildup you’d expect, along with quite a bit of the same antihistamine Benson told you was in Mrs. Urlich’s bloodstream.”

  “Benadryl,” Sam said.

  “Correct. That’s what the UV—ultraviolet—spectrophotometry proves. I ran the particulate against shavings from a new Benadryl tablet. It’s a definitive match.”

  Lainey’s research matched up with Cici’s vision. “Makes sense.”

  “I removed some of the residue from the stuffed animal. Then, I looked at the chemical composition of the particles. It’s the same. Based on the analyses I used, I’m confident that the substance is Benadryl. From the water sample, we pulled trace amounts of saliva. I want to run some more detailed tests that pull the liquid from the minerals.”

  “But you think the saliva is Patti’s?”

  “Yes. I ran the test twice,” Lainey said, her voice holding a patient tone of someone used to being questioned.

  “I’m not questioning your work. I’m just trying to make sense of the details. And, hey, I really appreciate you getting this to me tonight.”

  Lainey waited for a moment, no doubt unsure how to reply. Finally, she said, “I thought you should know the substance clumped in one area of the stuffed animal. I mean it diffused when the material became wet. But the mass was localized.”

  “What does that mean?” Sam asked.

  “My best guess is many pills were involved and the woman spat them out.”

  “While fighting off her attacker,” Sam muttered. Impressive. But her ability to fight hadn’t saved Patti Urlich, and that caused Sam’s blood to freeze in his veins.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I was talking to myself. And the device?”

  “That took a bit more time because it’s outside my area of expertise. But, I spoke with one of our mechanical technicians, and he confirmed the small device you handed over was definitely a video camera. It’s Bluetooth, so it can connect to a device to view the images.”

  “Can it record?” Sam asked.

  “The camera sees what it sees. There is a transmitter, so the device it transmits to—I don’t know. I’d need to ask the tech who looked at it.”

  “I can do that,” Sam said.

  “Sure,” Lainey’s tone warmed again. She really did love what she did. “We pulled a partial fingerprint, but I haven’t found a match in the database.”

  Sam frowned.

  “I’ll keep looking, and I’ll email you the findings.”

  “Okay,” Sam said. “And thanks.”


  “You bet,” she said. She paused again. “Mr…I mean Detective Chastain?”

  “Yes?”

  “For what it’s worth, I heard part of your discussion with Dr. Benson. I hope you catch this guy. And soon.”

  “Me, too.”

  14

  Cici

  Is there no way out of the mind? ― Sylvia Plath

  * * *

  Cici collapsed back onto her bed with a groan. Sam propped his shoulder against the door frame and grinned at her. “Tired?”

  “Yes. The vision wore me out.” She turned her head to meet his gaze. “Did you ever get to talk to Evan about that other case? The one coming up for parole?”

  Sam nodded. “It was denied. I can’t believe he could get off on a technicality.” Sam’s lip curled in disgust.

  “You’re good at what you do and made sure that didn’t happen,” Cici said.

  “No way I was letting him get out. He deserves his sentence. And more.”

  And Sam wouldn’t—impulsivity was antithetical to his personality, true, but more importantly, he’d suffered abuse as a child and refused to allow any type of harm to befall kids if he could step in. The subject was still raw so Cici smiled. “The city was lucky to have you for as long as it did.”

  Sam grunted. “Your visions have helped with these last big cases.” He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “They seem to do a number on you. I wish there was some other way for Anna Carmen to convey information to you.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I wish she didn’t have the need to do so.”

  Before she looked up at Sam, she knew what he’d say: that was a pipe dream. Sam was thoughtful and kind, but even before he went into law enforcement, he’d seen and lived with violence and pain.

  Cici didn’t want Sam to drift into that time in his life, so she said, “If this was my day off, I can’t imagine how busy I’ll be once I’m actually working. I’m so very thankful for all the food people brought.” She patted her full belly.

  Sam’s eyes lightened, as she’d hoped. He smiled—the bright, happy one she didn’t see enough. “I can’t complain. You have more food in your fridge than half the stores in town.”

  Cici smiled. “This is one of the times it’s good to be the reverend. People want to be on your good side, so they bring out their best recipes.”

  Sam laughed. “I always knew you were mercenary.”

  “Nope. Just particular about my food.”

  Sam checked her locks and windows while she brushed her teeth and washed her face, then changed into pajamas, thinking the whole time they’d developed the start of a nice routine.

  The dogs trotted into the room and flopped onto their beds with grunts.

  “I wish today had gone differently. I wanted to spend lots of quality time with you during this break in my schedule,” Sam said. He settled his hip next to her, and then pulled the covers up to her chin. “One of these days, you’re not going to be injured and I’m not going to be working such a high-pressure case.”

  Cici turned on her side, her hands under her cheek so she could face him fully. “Do you really think that’s possible?”

  Sam tapped her nose. “You not being injured, yes.” He stared deep into her eyes. “The rest…I don’t know. But I do know this: I need you, Cecilia Maria.”

  She leaned in and pressed her lips to his. “Back at you, Samuel Grenham.”

  He snorted even as he grimaced. “Don’t middle name me. It’s pretentious shit, straight from my father, right there.”

  She yawned. “I happen to love your name.”

  Sam pressed a kiss to her brow. “Get some sleep.”

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “I wanted to go over some notes. Now that I have some details about the water sample and the camera I brought in, I need to figure out how—”

  Cici frowned. “This isn’t your case, Sam.”

  “I know. Just as I know how hard it is to talk to everyone within this two-day period that’ll garner us the best chance to find the killer.”

  “Did you talk to Cooper again?” Cici asked. She yawned.

  “Yeah. Is he going to have a service for Patti at the church?”

  “I assumed so. I started planning for it.”

  “He seemed overwhelmed,” Sam said. “He’s lucky to have you and your support.”

  “I think he’d be much luckier to still have his wife.”

  Sam scratched the side of his head. “No doubt. I wish I could tell you we’d find this guy. That’s what I want to go over. Set up the best plan for tomorrow. Raynor went back to the Urlichs’ neighborhood to ask around about a possible intruder and to do another thorough search.” Sam scowled. “I suppose I could have gone with him, but I wanted to see you.”

  She smiled at his comments, but it faded almost as soon as it hit her lips. “Do you know if anyone saw anything?”

  “Nope. I haven’t heard anyway. Raynor said he’d loop me in.”

  “Why the interest in this one?” Cici asked.

  Sam’s cheeks flushed with dull, dark color. “My old boss asked me to kind of walk Raynor through this case, and considering I left the department without any notice, I feel like I owe that to him.”

  Cici started to sit up. “I’ll help you.”

  Sam pressed her gently back against the pillow. “Yes, you will. By sleeping.”

  “You’ll stay in here with me again tonight?” she asked, though nerves caused her belly to roil.

  “I’d planned on it.”

  She exhaled and snuggled back into her pillow, exhaustion tugging at her mind as well as her muscles. “Okay, then.”

  Cici hoped for a few hours of respite from the craziness of her day, but her twin had other plans. She managed to harness their connection via Cici’s newfound terror of water.

  That same furious wall of water had caused her to panic in the shower once again bore down on her and her spy friend. The images swirled and skittered through her mind.

  This time it was going to slam into her, suck her under. Cici couldn’t run fast enough.

  “No.”

  Cici looked behind her. The flood was gone. In fact, the mesa melted under Cici’s feet and she and her twin now stood on the edge of the road East Alameda. A steady stream of tourists in fanny packs, taking pictures and looking at maps drifted past. Beyond them, the typical light congestion of confused drivers caused a consistent amount of honking.

  Cici turned to find her sister leaning against the rail overlooking the Santa Fe River. Aci smiled at her.

  “You aren’t keeping me here. I know you’re worried about that.”

  “Terrified,” Cici admitted.

  Aci glanced down at her side, where she’d been stabbed through her kidney. “I failed him. I failed you.”

  Him being her student, Mrs. Sanchez’s grandson. He’d died trying to find out what happened to his mother. Soon after, Aci also lost her life to the murderous drug kingpin who didn’t want certain secrets revealed.

  “Don’t say that,” Cici said. Her eyes filled with tears. “You never failed me—”

  “I wasn’t honest. I knew you’d want to help.”

  “I did. I do. How can I make this better for you?” Cici asked.

  “Let’s talk about something happy.” Aci’s smile was the same; it lit up her eyes and brightened her whole face.

  “Aci—”

  “You and Sam.”

  Cici huffed out a breath. “He said you told him to tell me how he felt.”

  Aci squeezed her fingers, and Cici took in all her sister’s gleaming, dark hair as it slid around, catching the sunlight peeking through the leaves of the stately trees lining the riverbank.

  “I want you at peace,” Cici said. “I’m going to work toward that.”

  Aci cocked her head to the side, her long hair spilling over her shoulder. “You would, too. Give up normalcy—”

  “My life is not normal,” Cici said.

  “No,” Aci s
aid, her voice a whisper of a butterfly’s wings. “Just so you know, I can go on,” Aci said. “When I’m ready.”

  “What does that mean?” Cici asked, the frustration once again building, seeking to explode.

  Aci shrugged.

  Cici sighed. “And once you do, I’m not going to get to see you again, am I?”

  The words hurt to speak.

  Aci’s smile turned sad. “Probably not.”

  “I’ll always worry about you,” Cici cried.

  Aci clasped her hand. But the touch was ephemeral. “Don’t. I’ll go once I’m sure.”

  “Sure of what?”

  “That you’re safe,” Aci muttered. She grimaced. “Too long. Look, he’ll come.” She straightened up but she seemed less corporeal.

  “Who?” Cici asked.

  When Aci spoke again, her words took on an even higher level of urgency, as if she had too much to impart and not enough time. “I brought you here so you could look up—”

  She dissipated. Not into sparkles or smoke or anything so Hollywood. She simply ceased to be visible. Cici choked on a sob.

  But her sister was no longer there. The dream switched again, and Cici braced herself. Still, she remained woefully unprepared for the nightmare.

  15

  Cici

  Dreams are necessary to life. ― Anaïs Nin

  * * *

  She’d seen the man’s shadow, his bulk in the storefronts as she hurried back from the vintage clothing shop or the used bookstore. She couldn’t be sure. Both were on the same block, and she’d gotten lost in the pages of a book. Nothing unusual there.

  She strained her vision in the next pane of glass, trying to make out more about him. He was bulky—large not just in frame but in the hint and flicker of reflection of his facial features in the glass-fronted shops. Broad face, wide nose, thick jaw.

  Skin the color of hardened paste and about as appealing. His hair was shorn short in the back but she couldn’t tell about the top. He wore a cap. He emanated anger, the deep-seated kind nothing could overcome. Pedestrians parted around him, eddying to give the man a wide berth. He frightened them, too.