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Authors: Stacy Dittrich
Tags: Fiction
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eyes.
“Mrs. Hagerman. I’m Supervising Agent Alan Keane, with the FBI.” He spoke slowly. “I am—was—Michael’s supervisor from Washington, DC.”
My body subconsciously flinched when he called me Mrs. Hagerman, and it almost convulsed whenhe said Michael’s name. He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes before continuing.
“Mrs. Hagerman, CeeCee, I am so sorry about your loss. I’ve been in Cleveland working with…with Michael on a very important case. I was on my way down to see him when this happened.”
“Did you know this was going to happen?” I asked, almost accusing.
“When you’re up to it, we’ll talk. In the meantime, I have my best crime-scene specialists on their way down to process the…the scene. If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.”
He and the other man, who I assumed was an agent, left the room. I was too tired and too grief stricken to protest or ask any more questions right now. Not that any of this was hard to figure out. Michael had been investigating the Mafia, and now he had been killed by a car bomb. It wasn’t difficult to understand. Coping would be an entirely different issue.
Redirecting my attention to the red and blue lights that were reflecting off my bedroom window, I instinctively started to get up.
“CeeCee, you don’t need to look outside. Its best you don’t. They’re still processing everything right now. Eric’s outside. Do you want me to go get him?” my father asked.
I nodded. The sheriff, L. Richard Stephens, who had remained silent throughout, began to follow my father out of the room. He was a close friend of my father, so I’d known him since I was a child. He stopped and said a few words.
“CeeCee, I’m sorry, but I’m glad you’re not hurt—physically. You let me know if you need something.Okay, kiddo?” He had a sympathetic smile but sadness in his eyes.
“Thank you, Sheriff.”
Naomi and I were the only ones left in the room now. Coop had left earlier to assist the FBI with witness statements and anything else he could, no doubt. He was close friends with Michael, and his face showed that he was hurting. My head continued to throb, which prompted me to ask Naomi if she would get me some aspirin.
“Of course, where are they?”
“Inside the medicine cabinet, in the bathroom.”
While Naomi was out of the room, rifling for my pain reliever, Eric came in. He was on duty, wearing his uniform, like my father. Although Eric and Michael had never got along, he wore a pained expression, surely anticipating our daughters’ upcoming grief. He sat down on the bed next to me, where my father previously had sat, and took my hand.
“CeeCee, I’m so sorry.”
My tears began to well up again. “Eric…the girls. Can you keep them one more night? I don’t—I don’t know how I’m gonna be able to tell them!” I began to sob.
He stayed silent, but nodded. Although we had been through a lot together over the last several years, one fact held true—our love for our little girls. Any parent wanted to protect their child from pain, sadness, and heartache. This was one time we couldn’t.
“I think it would be best if we told them together, Cee. They’ll need us both.” He paused. “I think I’ll just tell them you had to go out of town until the day after tomorrow. We’ll tell them when I bring them over. Don’t worry. You know I’ll be here to help youand the girls through this.” He leaned over and gave me a tight squeeze.
Naomi stood in the doorway of the bathroom until Eric left. Thankful for the aspirin, I found myself thinking of Sean.
“Naomi, Vanessa’s supposed to drop Sean off in the morning—it’s our scheduled weekend. Could you call her for me and tell her? I think it’s best that she be the one to tell Sean.”
“Sure, CeeCee. I’m gonna stay here tonight. I don’t think you should be by yourself. Eric said outside, earlier, that he would get ahold of your mom and brother.”
“Mrs. Hagerman. I’m Supervising Agent Alan Keane, with the FBI.” He spoke slowly. “I am—was—Michael’s supervisor from Washington, DC.”
My body subconsciously flinched when he called me Mrs. Hagerman, and it almost convulsed whenhe said Michael’s name. He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes before continuing.
“Mrs. Hagerman, CeeCee, I am so sorry about your loss. I’ve been in Cleveland working with…with Michael on a very important case. I was on my way down to see him when this happened.”
“Did you know this was going to happen?” I asked, almost accusing.
“When you’re up to it, we’ll talk. In the meantime, I have my best crime-scene specialists on their way down to process the…the scene. If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.”
He and the other man, who I assumed was an agent, left the room. I was too tired and too grief stricken to protest or ask any more questions right now. Not that any of this was hard to figure out. Michael had been investigating the Mafia, and now he had been killed by a car bomb. It wasn’t difficult to understand. Coping would be an entirely different issue.
Redirecting my attention to the red and blue lights that were reflecting off my bedroom window, I instinctively started to get up.
“CeeCee, you don’t need to look outside. Its best you don’t. They’re still processing everything right now. Eric’s outside. Do you want me to go get him?” my father asked.
I nodded. The sheriff, L. Richard Stephens, who had remained silent throughout, began to follow my father out of the room. He was a close friend of my father, so I’d known him since I was a child. He stopped and said a few words.
“CeeCee, I’m sorry, but I’m glad you’re not hurt—physically. You let me know if you need something.Okay, kiddo?” He had a sympathetic smile but sadness in his eyes.
“Thank you, Sheriff.”
Naomi and I were the only ones left in the room now. Coop had left earlier to assist the FBI with witness statements and anything else he could, no doubt. He was close friends with Michael, and his face showed that he was hurting. My head continued to throb, which prompted me to ask Naomi if she would get me some aspirin.
“Of course, where are they?”
“Inside the medicine cabinet, in the bathroom.”
While Naomi was out of the room, rifling for my pain reliever, Eric came in. He was on duty, wearing his uniform, like my father. Although Eric and Michael had never got along, he wore a pained expression, surely anticipating our daughters’ upcoming grief. He sat down on the bed next to me, where my father previously had sat, and took my hand.
“CeeCee, I’m so sorry.”
My tears began to well up again. “Eric…the girls. Can you keep them one more night? I don’t—I don’t know how I’m gonna be able to tell them!” I began to sob.
He stayed silent, but nodded. Although we had been through a lot together over the last several years, one fact held true—our love for our little girls. Any parent wanted to protect their child from pain, sadness, and heartache. This was one time we couldn’t.
“I think it would be best if we told them together, Cee. They’ll need us both.” He paused. “I think I’ll just tell them you had to go out of town until the day after tomorrow. We’ll tell them when I bring them over. Don’t worry. You know I’ll be here to help youand the girls through this.” He leaned over and gave me a tight squeeze.
Naomi stood in the doorway of the bathroom until Eric left. Thankful for the aspirin, I found myself thinking of Sean.
“Naomi, Vanessa’s supposed to drop Sean off in the morning—it’s our scheduled weekend. Could you call her for me and tell her? I think it’s best that she be the one to tell Sean.”
“Sure, CeeCee. I’m gonna stay here tonight. I don’t think you should be by yourself. Eric said outside, earlier, that he would get ahold of your mom and brother.”
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