Free The Body Mafia by Stacy Dittrich Page A

had not been killed—only injured. Therefore, no obituary was printed, and the incident had not been reportedby any news agency anywhere. He felt that if the higher-ups among Michael’s killers thought they had failed, the conflict between them would lead the FBI right to them. My opinion of Alan Keane’s explanation was that it was bullshit, and I told him as much. They were keeping something from me; there wasn’t a doubt in my mind. However, he said, once Michael’s killers were caught, a service with all of the bells and whistles would be held. Never in my life had I heard of such a thing.
    The weeks that followed were the most difficult of my life. Each time I walked into our closet to pack up Michael’s clothes, I walked right back out. The last time in the closet was the day I decided his things would be put away only when I was ready, and now wasn’t the time. Vanessa still let me take Sean on the designated weekends, which surprised me. Sean did wonders for me, and I think I did the same for him.
    Dreams of Michael came every night in my restless sleep, and I found myself wanting to sleep more, just to see him. When I couldn’t fall asleep, several glasses of wine or vodka did the trick. The more I drank, the more I slept, and therefore, the more I saw Michael. Eric several times expressed his concern, taking the girls more than usual, but I found myself caring less and less about anything.
    My days went as follows: wake up, drink a bottle of wine, sleep, wake up, drink more, sleep, and so on. When my vacation time and sick leave finally ran out two months later, it was time to go back to work.
    My first day back didn’t go well. I was hungover and found myself craving more alcohol. Naomi,Coop, my father, the sheriff—everyone tried to talk me into counseling, but I refused. I told myself to get it together and dive into my work. As easy as it sounded, I wasn’t aware of how difficult that would be. Naomi was around me so much it began to get annoying.
    “How ‘bout Coop and I stop by after work and take you to dinner? You’re a skeleton, CeeCee. You really need to eat something.” She stood in front of my desk with her arms crossed.
    “You guys really need to stop.” Sighing, I put my face in my hands. “I know you all are worried, but trust me, I am not going to kill myself, so you can stop all of the fucking nightly checkups at my house.”
    She sat down in a chair. “I don’t know that we’re really worried about you committing suicide, Cee…There’s ways of slowly killing yourself, ya know? You’re not eating, you’re drinking too much, and if you don’t get it together, you will eventually kill yourself—whether intentionally or not.”
    Taking a deep breath, I leaned back in my chair. “I just don’t know if I can do this, Naomi.” Tears began to fill my eyes.
    She leaned forward. “Yes, you can! You’re the strongest person I have ever met in my life! You were strong before you even met Michael, and you will be strong now!” She stood up. “This isn’t the CeeCee I know. She can overcome anything, even the death of the man she loved, for her children and for herself. Now, take the homeless murders and review the file. Dive back into work and get your mind off all of this! We’ve had nothing since you’ve been gone, and maybe you can find whatever it is that we missed.”
    She pulled a thick brown expanding file from her briefcase and threw it on my desk. It landed with a loud thud.
    “Let me know if you find anything, and let me know if you need anything.” She left my office.
    I stared at the file. For some reason, I had a feeling that if I opened it, it would be like working. That would mean that I was moving on without Michael, making me feel guilty somehow. Still lost in thought, I was jolted back into the present when someone knocked loudly on my door. It was the new detective, Justin Brown.
    “Sergeant Gallagher?”
    “Yes, Justin. Come on in.”
    “I just wanted