The Other Side of the Rainbow

By CORDOVA

The phrase 'there's no place like home' won't conjure up feelings of warmth and love in The Other Side of the Rainbow.

Standing up for what is right - a police motto homicide detective Carol Ann McCloskey believes in and lives by in the city of Corona, Colorado - the crown city of the Rocky Mountains. Achievin

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Degree Press
• Release date: Mar 29, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889266815

Book preview

ACT I

Chapter One

September 24, 1987

The Detective

The road directed Detective Carol Ann McCloskey west, and the Colorado sunset offered up streaks of pink, orange, and purple that reminded her of Cyndi Lauper’s hair. Carol ignored the man spewing threats from the back seat as she drove. She would rather be on a run in the fresh air with the soles of her Adidas hitting the pavement and music playing through her Walkman’s headset. She wanted to enjoy the twists and turns along Highway 114, so she pressed on the gas pedal lightly and turned up Suzanne Vega’s hit song, Luka. Carol had purchased the cassette tape along with a fanny pack large enough to hold her Walkman when she was buying a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles coloring book for Harrison from the hospital gift shop.

Hayden Preston, her suspect and Harrison’s father, leaned toward her. He stank of stale cigarettes and fast food, and his greasy hair covered much of his pale face, Can you turn that crap off?

Amy Bronne, Carol’s partner, turned up the volume. She hit her chest with a fist and belted out the chorus.

Carol laughed and then met Hayden’s scowl with a grim expression. He had beaten his wife to death. For that, he deserved to be tortured with Amy’s off-key crooning. Through the rearview mirror, she saw a dark sedan trailing far behind her; a red Jeep behind it.

Stupid dykes.

Carol laughed again. Amy was a tough cop who lived with her socialite parents and dated mostly white-collar men. Last night, Ray, Carol’s boyfriend, asked her how many times someone had called her a dyke that day. She’d given him an exaggerated number, and then he’d seduced her.

Amy lowered the music. Carol, do you think breaking a child’s bones makes some men feel like tough guys?

You don’t know what you’re talking about, Hayden answered.

Maybe just killing their wives does that, Amy said.

Hayden growled. I didn’t kill nobody. I did everything I could to keep Sophie from hurting herself and Harrison. She… He stopped talking and turned away.

Amy continued. I get it. You were the ideal husband and father before you accidently beat Sophie with a bat.

He spat at her. Flecks of putrid spittle landed on Amy’s face and jacket. She turned her face away. Her chin jutted forward in the familiar tactic she used to control her anger.

You two don’t know anything, Hayden said.

Enlighten us with your tale of fiction, Carol responded.

The highway opened up to a huge pasture for miles. The red Jeep passed a little too close on the left, and Carol tightened her grip on the steering wheel. The dark sedan closed the large gap between them. Carol encouraged the driver to go around her department-issued Taurus with a tap on her brakes. She was in no hurry to get to her precinct in Corona.

You want a story. I’ll tell you a story. Hayden laughed. It won’t even matter if you don’t believe me. You lesbos, with your big shoulder pads and helmet hair, messed up big time letting Sophie’s parents near Harrison. Whatever happens to him is on you.

A mental image of the four-year-old next to Ester Gimble, his maternal grandmother, made her heart sink. The boy—silent, thumb in his mouth, eyes distant—stared up from that hospital bed. The woman, frail but strong-minded, held his hand and tried her best to assure him that he would be okay. Carol lifted her foot off the gas pedal. What do you mean?

Amy closed her visor. Carol? She turned to look behind them.

Hayden yelled, Who do you think jacked up Sophie? She’s the one who sold our—

The back window shattered.

Blood sprayed the interior windshield. The radio exploded.

Amy pulled out her gun and shouted, Five o’clock.

A man leaned out of the rear driver’s side window holding a rifle and fired again. A bullet hit the quarter panel with a penetrating thud.

Carol cranked the steering wheel away from the gunfire, straightened the swerving car, and gunned it.

The other car sped up too.

Carol swerved to the left.

Another bullet hit the trunk. Amy fired her weapon.

Carol shouted into the two-way radio, Officer needs assistance. Shots fired! Shots fired. We are heading south on US-114, passing mile marker… She checked for the green sign. No traffic was headed north. I’m turning back toward Gunnison! Do you copy?

Ten-four, a voice responded over the airway.

Carol drove across the yellow line into the open field and steered back north. The tires screeched behind her, and the smell of burning rubber filled the air.

Amy kept her gun pointed at the assailants.

The other vehicle, a black Cadillac de Ville, followed.

Carol braced for the possibility of oncoming traffic, but the road was clear. Back on the pavement, she slowed and swerved, hoping to get the other car to swerve as well.

It did.

Amy fired. I’m out.

Carol pulled her gun from her shoulder holster, offering it to Amy.

Amy grabbed it and fired, hitting the Cadillac’s windshield near the driver. The de Ville flipped and then rolled. Metal gave way to the impact. Breaking glass followed. The Caddy stopped upright with its top caved in.

Carol slammed on the brakes, and the Taurus skidded to a stop. She flipped a U-turn to face the Cadillac and drove toward it slowly. It was a newer model. Possibly a rental. Carol stopped at a safe distance. What about—

Oh, crap, Amy gasped, handing Carol her gun back. Hayden lay crumpled on the floor, and blood smeared the upholstery. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

Carol reloaded. Using her door as a shield, she pointed her gun at the sedan while Amy reloaded.

She saw no movement in the other car.

Carol kept her gun at the ready until Amy was in position.

Using the passenger door, Carol snuck around to the backseat and checked for a pulse. No. I’ve got nothing. She stood.

Another sedan zoomed toward them. A gun pointed out of its window. Carol dove to the ground. Bullets peppered the asphalt around her and the Taurus. She held her breath, expecting searing pain any moment.

How would her parents react when they were told of her death? Would they even bother to drive the four-and-a-half hours to Corona from Denver? No. But Michael and Kit would race out to collect her remains. Their twins would never know her. Her times with them flashed through her mind. Hand holds. Book reads. Goodnight kisses.

The car sped by. Behind it, a cruiser with a door placard that read: Gunnison County Sheriff’s Department squealed its tires as it came to a stop. The young deputy she met when she and Amy took custody of Hayden jumped out. Acne covered his face, and his uniform billowed with the wind wherever his small frame failed to fill it. Carol pushed off the ground.

He yelled, Are you okay, Detective?

Yes. Go! Go after them!

He took off.

Amy crawled out of the Taurus, still pointing her gun at the sedan. Ready?

They approached the vehicle in the two-person formation they’d been taught to use at the police academy. A rifle lay nearby. Amy held her position while Carol kicked it away and found two handguns. She tossed them from the vehicle.

All clear. She holstered her revolver to check for signs of life.

The driver was dead. His two passengers had faint pulses. We need an ambulance.

Amy hurried toward the Taurus.

A few minutes later, the sheriff’s cruiser pulled up. Steve Winters, who had helped Carol and Amy apprehend Hayden, studied the crash. What in the hell happened here?

An execution, I think, Carol said. Hayden Preston received a single shot to the back of the head. One assailant, the driver, is dead. Two others might not make it.

Winters said, My deputy radioed in the accident. Help is right behind me.

Several minutes later, Amy pointed into the Cadillac toward the glove box. Carol, you better come see this.

More than one siren wailed in the distance.

Several Polaroid images of the same naked young boy in different positions lay on the glove box lid.

Carol recognized Harrison’s lost look, nose and chin immediately.

Winters peeked into the sedan through the windshield. Well, I’ll be.

Law enforcement vehicles arrived, two with the emblem of the Gunnison Police Department and one from Saguache County.

Amy opened the back of the vehicle. Something’s here.

The trunk was empty except for a black duffel bag. Amy unzipped the bag and whistled. It was a lot of cash. The three of them stood silently for a moment.

The ambulance shut off its siren as it arrived, and officers directed traffic.

Carol picked up a bundle of bills. I think Hayden was about to tell us Sophie sold Harrison.

Amy asked, Maybe that was why he killed her?

Maybe. Or maybe because she hid him in that closet. Like she changed her mind, Carol said hopefully.

Then Hayden promised to hand him over. But we arrested him. So, they killed him, Amy suggested.

Why? Winters asked.

So, he couldn’t tell us about the transaction.

Or they were following him to get to Harrison.

I like that theory, Amy admitted. But can we prove it?

We know Sophie told a neighbor she was coming into some money and leaving town to go live on a beach, Carol answered her.

We assumed she meant she and Harrison were going together, Amy responded.

Carol mumbled, She either changed her mind, or she tried to scam them, so they killed her with Harrison hiding in that closet.

Amy added, He was blocked in. Behind suitcases. Sophie was definitely hiding him.

Winters nodded. And if Hayden was hoping to get Harrison from Ester’s house, did he know the boy was still in the hospital? If so, the question is, how long were these guys going to wait?

And where were they waiting? Carol checked the pockets of the driver while Amy and Steve Winters checked the other two passengers. Carol found a wallet, some money, and a hotel key.

Amy and Steve found similar items. This guy’s from New York.

Same here.

Yep, Winters said, flapping open the wallet he held.

Parlin Inn was etched on the back of one hotel key. The Corona El Rancho Hotel, not far from where Sophie was killed, was on another.

The EMTs rushed toward them with a gurney.

Sheriff, can your office patch me through to my precinct? Carol asked.

Sure thing. And I’ll go talk to the Gunnison deputy about checking out the Parlin Inn.

It took more than three hours for the county officials to collect all the evidence, remove the driver’s body, and clean up the accident. The evidence included twenty-six Polaroids and a duffel bag filled with forty thousand dollars in small bills. Carol and Amy kept the El Rancho Hotel key after signing the appropriate form for transferring evidence. Carol hoped the search warrant would be signed and waiting for them when they arrived.

A patrol car from their precinct arrived with another Taurus from their fleet. The two uniformed officers waited around to escort Carol and Amy back to Corona, the Crown City of the Rocky Mountains known worldwide for being the Hollywood of the West. It was a city slightly smaller than Denver, located in the southwestern part of Colorado.

Carol had moved to Corona right out of college to attend their police academy. Her district, located in a rough neighborhood, had been ordered to hire several female officers from her class. Thanks to a nationwide lawsuit, she and Amy were promoted to detective.

It wouldn’t surprise her if Captain Anderson was reassigning their case to more senior detectives while she and Amy were stuck dealing with the incident reports for Sheriff Winters.

While the forensic technician worked, Carol told Winters about the last statement Hayden Preston made about Sophie’s parents. Winters responded, Nah, Ester Gimble is good people. I can’t say much about Elmore, but I wouldn’t put any stock into what the sumbitch said. If you had known the Gimbles as long as I have, you would know there’s nothing to worry about.

The boy, Harrison, was confined to the hospital in a catatonic state. He wouldn’t talk or respond to anyone but Carol, and what response he gave was minimal. She had been the only person who could get him to eat or drink, and usually only in the middle of the night. Over the last few weeks, Carol’s boyfriend, Ray, had tagged along when he could on those late-night visits. Last night the child finally accepted some french fries from Ray. That small gesture suggested hope that Harrison could improve. But how much improvement could his doctors expect?

The sheriff chewed on his mustache for a moment. I tell you what. The Gimble property is just a short jog off this highway. I’ll make it my personal business, once the boy gets out of the hospital, to stop in and check on him every day. I’ve got two deputies. They’ll probably agree to help me out. I’ll talk to the ladies from the church and the men at the Elks lodge to pitch in too, and we’ll all be on the lookout for strangers. That’s a benefit to being in a small town, ladies. Anyone new shows up, and I’ll know about it before they can see a cow take a dump.

A deputy approached. Sheriff, Penny just radioed. The assailants from the vehicle all have records. Two of them work for the Gualtieri crime family. Both were DOA.

Two hours later, Carol pulled up to the Corona hotel. Amy had spent most of the drive yammering from adrenaline. She believed she could do anything now that she had taken on a gunman trying to kill them. She could stand up to her mother’s snobbery and her father’s hardhanded rules. She could tell them just because she was stupid enough to let some man run off with her money once and leave her in strangling debt didn’t mean she would make that mistake again. They needed to start treating her with some respect. She was a formidable woman.

A forensics van and several unmarked sedans with flashing lights were on site. Carol’s supervisor explained, When the patrol car arrived, they heard a child crying in the room and broke down the door. You two aren’t going to believe this.

Two animal carriers sat in the room. A kid was being held in that one. He is going to recover. They’ll hold him at the hospital for a few days. The empty cage had a picture and lot number taped to it. Carol recognized Harrison immediately.

Captain Anderson told her, We’re starting up a task force with the FBI. We’ll make an announcement at the press conference in a few minutes. You girls get ready.

As concerned as she was for the boys, Carol couldn’t help but feel the noose tighten around her own neck. She dreamed about working a big case like this for years to prove she was a better cop than her misogynistic counterparts gave her credit for. But would she and Amy get to participate in the task force, or would they be completely shut out?

The Mobster

Dannel Pappas opened the door and ordered Stan to bring him two more beers. Stan jumped off the barstool to fetch the drinks. Franco had parked his boots up on the bar to watch the television. Dannel hated that Franco felt he could come into Dannel’s establishment and be a slob. This ain’t your living room.

Franco sneered but adjusted himself properly on the high-backed barstool.

Dannel closed the door to the private room where his boss, Efrem Spinelli, and Detective Todd Williamson talked.

Spinelli shut the file folder on the table. That’s everything you have on McCloskey?

Should be, the detective said before gulping down the rest of his beer. Spinelli pushed the file toward Dannel.

Stan opened the door and approached the table. He slid a bottle toward Williamson and set one near Dannel. Here you go, boss. Mr. Spinelli, would you like more whiskey?

The man shook his head.

Stan left. Dannel opened the file, but Spinelli didn’t wait for him to read it. I want you to fix this.

Dannel addressed Williamson. Is this going to be enough to do the job?

Williamson shrugged.

Is it worth what we’re paying you?

Spinelli downed the rest of his drink. That’s not your call, Dan.

Dannel hated when the boss said his name in the same tone he would use to call Dannel a moron or an idiot. Spinelli only did it when he was drinking. The more he drank, the meaner he became and the more dangerous he was. Over the last few months, he’d grown very dangerous, and Dannel wanted out.

Maybe the contents of this folder would be enough for him to make a deal. No. The information would lead to the property and the bodies. Dannel couldn’t be linked to the bodies.

Earth to Dan, Spinelli snapped.

What?

I said, you get McCloskey to pay, or you pay.

Yes, sir.

Williamson smirked. Am I good here, Mr. Spinelli?

Spinelli turned to Dannel.

Dannel shrugged. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.

Spinelli rose. Just take care of it. I don’t want to hear nothing else, but it’s taken care of.

Williamson grabbed his suit jacket and opened the door to the private room.

Spinelli headed toward the back door as Franco jumped up, rushing to beat him there. Williamson left through the main bar where the girls were dancing. Dannel expected he’d stick around for a half hour or more. Franco held the rear door open. Spinelli paused, checked the alley, and left. Franco flipped off Dannel and followed the boss.

Stan laughed. What is it between you and Franco?

Ah, he thinks he’s a tough guy.

What’s that about, boss? Stan pointed at the file folder.

Don’t you have work to do? Dannel returned to the private room but left the door open. He read the information Williamson provided and finished his beer.

Stan kicked back in the seat Franco had just vacated and put his feet on the chair next to him. He returned his attention to the television and then started another rant about how the NFL owners were disrespecting the players.

Dannel stood up and shut the door.

The Lover

Ray Russo placed the fork onto the boy’s plate, but the boy just stared at the wall. Come on, Harrison. Can’t you take one more bite for me?

The boy didn’t respond.

How about a drink of that milk? Water? He yawned. You only have two bites left. I know Detective McCloskey wants to be here, but she had to take a long drive to go check out your new home. Where your grandma lives. You’ll get to go there soon. Can you show us all what a big guy you are and how you’re able to eat?

The boy didn’t respond.

Ray shook his head. If Cam were to walk in the door, Harrison would blink as if the power of her presence turned on a switch in his brain. If she asked him to finish his meal, he would. What did the kid expect? For Cam to hang out in the hospital all day? And what did Ray expect, for her to just let this boy starve? To be someone else’s problem?

They’d been together for five months, and she rarely asked him to do anything. But she had asked him to be on call for the boy while she drove two hours away to Parlin. He didn’t want to, but he knew she’d do anything for him, pretty much as long as it didn’t interfere with her job or reveal anything about her life prior to coming to Corona.

He liked to tease her about being in the witness protection program.

She would just smile and refuse to answer his questions about her family or upbringing.

He lifted the fork. It’s a plane! He made a swooshing noise while he lifted the utensil into the air flying it toward the boy’s mouth.

Harrison’s lips remained closed.

Maybe a choo-choo train?

The nurse entered the room. Hey, I was hoping you were awake. Detective McCloskey is on the news. The nurse turned on the television and switched the channel.

Cam was near a podium next to Amy. Their boss, Captain James Anderson, was speaking to the reporters.

The newscaster cut into the feed. That is quite the breakthrough. Once again, if you are just tuning in, a kidnapping ring has been uncovered today in downtown Corona. Detectives Bronne and McCloskey have been assigned to lead a task force. Their investigation led to the deaths of three assailants in a high-speed chase in what appears to be a potential transaction of cash for a small child. I don’t know if Corona has ever had such a case. However, this investigation is now linked to a historical event. Bronne and McCloskey are the first female detectives to be given such a role in our great city.

The news reporter at the site of the news conference commented. That is correct, Robert. This is the first time any woman has been given such a role in the city’s history. You might remember the city only promoted women to the rank of detective recently after a decision in a major lawsuit in Pennsylvania. Every major city began a hiring frenzy of female personnel to squelch the lawsuits being filed in its wake. Bronne and McCloskey have excellent records and are highly esteemed for the work they do.

The in-station broadcaster turned toward the camera. This is the statement Detective Carol Ann McCloskey made moments ago.

Ray sat up, pointing at the television. There’s our gal, buddy.

Thank you, Captain. I want to assure everyone in Corona and the state of Colorado that we will not stop until we have arrested every person involved in targeting children for financial gain. I want to thank the captain for assigning me and my esteemed partner, Amy Bronne, to lead this task force. I’ve always admired the captain for his determination to end gender discrimination inside the department. This gesture will go a long way toward securing a future where every detective and officer in our department is equal.

As she spoke, Ray glanced at the shocked reaction on Anderson’s face. Amy turned toward the man, her surprise also noticeable. Ray leaned up toward the television, laughing. Cam, you badass, they didn’t assign that task force to you.

Harrison tucked the full fork of food into his mouth.

Ray laughed again. Look at you, big guy! Way to go. Cam will be really proud of you when I tell her you ate that whole bowl. He smiled up at the screen. I think I could love you, Cam McCloskey.

Montage

October 1, 1987—8 p.m.

Dannel knocked on the McCloskey home's front door. He hated this. Stan stepped up next to him on the wide porch. The door opened. Yeah? The smell of whiskey filled the air.

Hey, Michael, Dannel said. How’s it going?

Michael brushed his hair with his hand and took a moment to study Stan. He frowned.

Can you give us a minute?

Nope.

8:45 p.m.

Dannel yelled at Stan to stay in the car. He slammed his fist into the pay phone booth waiting for the page he sent to be returned. The phone rang. Dannel quickly picked it up and shouted, Williamson?

Dannel? Williamson snorted.

I need you to get the call for the McCloskey home residence. Go there and write it off as a suicide.

What?

Damn it, Todd. I don’t have time to explain. Get the call. You’re going to make sure it is filed as a suicide. Do you understand?

Yeah, I think so, Williamson said with hesitation.

I’ll cover the rest of your debt when you call me and tell me it’s done.

Detective Williamson’s tone lifted eagerly. Sure! Thanks.

9:45 p.m.

Carol stood in the front of the conference room and pinned another picture onto the board as she spoke to the others. This man was seen with one of our dead perps. Let’s find out who he is ASAP.

The secretary interrupted her. Sorry, Detective, you have an urgent call.

Amy stepped up. Carol followed the woman out of the room into the open area for their unit. Her and Amy’s desks were in the back. Carol picked up the phone on her desk. McCloskey.

Carolina?

Dad?

Carolina, it’s Michael. We need you home, hijita. He’s dying. Hurry.

11:50 p.m.

The small aircraft from Corona to Stapleton Airport landed on time. Carol grabbed a cab to the hospital. She found Kit in the waiting room on the fourth floor. Where is he?

ICU.

Let’s go.

I can’t. They won’t let me in, Kit said, choking back a mixture of tears and anger. Family only.

You are family.

Not to them, I’m not.

Carol didn’t know if he meant her parents or the hospital staff. She stared at the blood on his shirt. What happened? A car accident?

Kit shook his head. I just don’t know.

She ran toward the ICU. I’ll fix this, Kit. Trust me. I’ll get you in that room.

October 2, 1987

7:00 a.m.

Carol found the phone number in the book she kept in her purse. Her blood was boiling. How dare they! She’d show them. Mrs. Ursula Jo Daley, the wife of Senator Lane Daley, answered on the second ring. Carol held in her anger and choked down her tears. Jo, it’s Cammie. I’m at the hospital in Denver. Michael’s dying.

Ursula Jo gasped. What? How?

They won’t let Kit into the ICU. They said we would need an act of Congress to get him in.

The senator’s wife said, I’ll take care of it, darlin’. You tell Kit to hold tight and give Michael my love.

9:00 a.m.

Carol hurried down the hall to the waiting room. Kit’s mother had paged her within an hour of their phone call. It took another hour until she’d heard from the chairman of the hospital. Kit was arguing with a tall man, a professional football player by the size of him. Kit! You can come back.

Kit turned toward her.

His expression was off. Not just anger but what? Fear. He started to walk toward Carol.

I’ll tell Mr. Spinelli I ran into you, the giant yelled.

Tell Spinelli to go to hell, Kit snapped and hurried toward her. Are you sure? They’ll let me in?

Yeah, who’s that? Carol asked, walking with Kit but keeping her gaze on the man in the long leather jacket.

Nobody. Screw him.

10:00 p.m.

Her father signed the legal document. Dr. Kelsey turned off the machine. He offered condolences again and left them alone in the room. Carol held Kit’s hand while he wept over Michael. Her parents sat in the corner and said a rosary.

10:28 p.m.

Carol’s laugh was barbed. You can’t be serious. Did you look at his body, Detective Williamson? He’s bruised and beaten.

Detective Williamson opened his notebook. He plays lacrosse—sorry, rugby. Isn’t that correct?

Yes, Kit said.

You noticed he has been quiet and reserved as of late, not like himself?

Kit nodded.

You categorized this recent change of behavior as depression?

Carol turned to Kit.

Kit nodded.

And when you found him in your basement bathroom, was anyone else there?

Our son, Jeremy.

Williamson scowled. Anything out of the ordinary?

Kit stalled. He glanced at Carol. His cheeks were flushed with color. No, he whispered.

Carol hesitated. Their marriage had been too short for her to recognize when Kit was lying. But was her ex-husband hiding something? We need an autopsy, Carol said.

I don’t think that’s necessary, ma’am.

Don’t ma’am me, Williamson. It’s Detective McCloskey. And I know a homicide when I see one.

Only you don’t see it. What you are seeing and feeling is grief. It is tragic. But it is a suicide. Show a homicide detective an untimely death; they’ll see a homicide. I think right now you should just concentrate on helping your parents and Kit and− Williamson flipped the pages in his notebook again, Jeremy and Gwen.

Carol grabbed her purse. I’m going to call your sergeant. What precinct are you with?

Todd held up his hands in surrender. He reached into his jacket pocket. Here’s my card. You don’t have to make a scene and call Senator Daley again. I’ll order the autopsy if it makes you feel better. I’ll even put a rush on it. Okay?

Kit’s cheeks reddened. He hissed at Carol, You called him?

No, of course not, Carol whispered. I called your mom. Turning her back to Kit, she said to Williamson, And you’ll process the crime scene now?

No. I was there already. There’s nothing to be concerned about other than some drunken fumbling around. Out of respect for the family, I think it should be cleaned up right away. Mr. McCloskey may have called a cleaning service already.

Cleaning service?

Cammie, Kit said, taking her by the arm. Let’s go. I want to get my kids, please. Let’s go.

Carol pulled away from him. "What kind of jacked up precinct is