That wasnt all.
You could use a tornado to attempt to get away with murder, a team member who was a retired detective had told Pam, just as they got off the bus. Place your victim amid the debris and it would be assumed the cause of death was from the tornado. Unless someone knew otherwise, you might get away with it.
The possibility gave Pam a chill, but the truth was she was not sure she could survive finding another body, she thought, as they assembled at the command post. There, they were given their assigned zones and set out to process them.
Pams zone encompassed a section of the cemetery and a neighboring residential street, or what was left of it.
Police had sealed the area so search-and-rescue efforts could continue. The cemetery was a field of toppled trees and headstones. Huge patches of manicured lawns had been ripped from the earth. Across the street, houses had been flattened or shorn, exposing rooms, wiring and insulation. Topsoil had been hurled onto rooftops and cars overturned.
Pam searched the area as K-9 teams probed nearby. Clothing, toys, appliances and furniture were scattered everywhere. She found a real-estate for sale sign from Duncanville, which was about fifteen miles west. But so far shed found no bodies, no survivors.
She was grateful.
Jay Selingers team was good, she thought. You could always count on them to do a thorough job.
Nearly two hours passed with Pam continuing her work amid the destruction of cars dropped on houses, more branches and tree limbs, and sections of walls hurled into residential streets. She came upon what must have been a day care. A heap of childrens furniture and toys buried beneath trees was all that was left.
She saw a doll, dirty and mud covered.
Pam bent down to grab the leg and froze.
It was not a doll.
22
Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex, Texas
After disembarking from his connecting flight through Seattle, Blake Cooper met Garrett Keo, his brother-in-law, at the arrivals gate at DFW International Airport.
For the first time ever, Garrett, a six-foot-two mechanic and Falcons fan from Atlanta, hugged Blake, in a tender but awkward moment.
That simple action pushed matters beyond the understated machismo of two blue-collar men who did little more than shake hands at family gatherings and holidays.
It drove home the depth of the tragedy.
Its a helluva thing, Blake, a helluva thing. Holly sends her love. Were going to help you and Jen get through this, Garrett said after grabbing Blakes bag and leading him to his rental, a pearl-colored Ford Escape. You made good time getting back, he said as they left the airport.
The airline bumped me ahead when I told them the reason I needed to get home, Blake said. My company covered the ticket, sent in a guy from Tacoma to fill in for me. Everyones been good Blakes voice trailed. As they got on the expressway and the city rolled by, Blake thought back to that first awful call with Jen. How he couldnt believe what she was telling him, thinking she had to be wrong.
Caleb vanished in the tornado. It made no sense.
It couldnt be true, he thought, telling himself as his jet had climbed over the Rockies that really, everything was okay. Jen was just confused by the storm. Caleb was safe somewhere.
He had to be.
Yes, Blake had seen news coverage of the tornadoes on the TVs at the Seattle airport. Yes, there was death and destruction in several states. Yes, Dallas was hit hard. Yes, people were suffering, but this couldnt be happening, not to his family. Really, everything is okay.
God, please let everything be okay.
Blake suddenly realized that Garrett had passed the exit for his home.
Arent we going to go to my house? Hasnt Jen moved out of the shelter by now?
No. I went out to Lancaster- Its not good.
What?
Blake, your house is gone. Im sorry. Garretts voice was soft, filled with compassion.
Blakes face paled and he ran his hand over it. Then a sound between a groan and a curse escaped him. Was-was there anything left?
Garrett shook his head solemnly. Your neighborhood was totally destroyed, nothing left but rubble. The areas restricted, sealed off while they deal with power lines and gas.
Blake said nothing. He blinked at nothing, as if struggling to comprehend something incomprehensible.
Thats not all of it, Blake. Theres more about Caleb.
Whatre you talking about?
Im so damned sorry. I shouldve told you at the airport. Garretts voice began to crack a little. It happened when you were on the plane, I- The words wouldnt come.
Just tell me, Garrett!
They found a body.
Blakes eyes widened, his face tightened. Whatre you talking about? Whose body?
A baby. A baby boy. Thats all we know.
Blake smashed his fists into the console. You better be fucking wrong, Garrett! You better be dead fucking wrong!
It took about two seconds before the full force of it hit Blake in the gut like a two-by-four.
Oh Christ, is it Caleb?
We dont know for certain. Jen got a call from some official then two Dallas cops came and took her to this high school in southeast Dallas. Garrett tapped the rentals GPS. I put the address in here. Thats where were going.
A school?
Theyve set up a morgue in the gym.
A morgue! Jesus.
Blakes knees started bouncing up and down and he held them with his palms. Sensing his anguish was about to detonate, Garrett feared he would smash his way out of the Ford.
Blake. You got to hang on. Jens in a bad way-she needs you. Shes with Holly, waiting for us at the school. Jen said shes not doing anything without you.
Jenna needed to believe that she was dreaming.
Because if Im dreaming, none of this is true.
She shut her eyes for a long moment then opened them again.
She was not dreaming.
This is really happening.
She was with several people waiting in the administration office of a high school. The school had been closed to students, had become a ghost building. Yet everyone was whispering, like they were in church or something.
Jenna had lost Caleb. It was her fault because shed failed to hang on to him. But her prayers were answered. Caleb had been found and taken to this high school.
She was going to hold him one last time.
Im so sorry. I didnt protect you.
A tiny voice in her heart cried out to her. No. No. Its not true. My baby boy cant be dead.
Would you like another cup of water, Jen?
Jennas sister, Holly, stood by the cooler. It glugged as she filled another paper cup. Jenna tasted the cold water, felt it flowing down her parched throat. Then she looked at the trophy case with medals, statues and framed photos of teachers, coaches, basketball and football teams. She searched the pictures of the players and thought of Caleb. Would he ever be on a team? The faces of these young men screamed life to her while her heart cowered at what was waiting for her in the gym.
The office doors opened. Blake appeared.
She rushed to him, cleaved to him, nearly sank to her knees before he pulled her up so that they stood together, holding each other and sobbing for what seemed an eternity.
Then a woman stood and started the procedure.
Excuse me- Youre Blake Cooper, Calebs father?
Yes, I am.
Im Lanna Thomas with the Medical Examiners office, she said.
Others began to introduce themselves: the two officers, Stroud and Dyer, with the Dallas PD; Wendy DeBello, with trauma counseling services; and Frank Rivera with the Missing Person Emergency Search System.
Im so sorry, Thomas said to Blake and Jenna, but we need one of you to make the identification now.
Blake nodded to Thomas and cleared his throat.
Ill go.
No. Jenna crushed him to her. Well go together.
Okay, Thomas said. Follow me.
The officers followed, as well, their utility belts giving soft leathery squeaks and keys jingling as they approached the gym. There was a faint hum in the air, and Jenna squeezed Blakes hand harder.
Where- Blake started again. Where was he found?
A woman with a volunteer search and rescue team found him among some broken tree limbs in a suburb ringing Lincoln Memorial Park Cemetery.
The hum grew louder when they entered the gym, which had been partitioned in half with a floor-to-ceiling dividing wall. Thomas led them through the door into the closed section.
The drone is from the generators outside for the portable air conditioners, to keep the room cool, Thomas said, pulling on latex gloves.
Stepping inside, Jenna stopped.
The room was cold. On the polished gym floor were several rows of body-sized sheets. The odor in the air was a mix of a hospital and a supermarket deli. The surreal scene of the dead juxtaposed with the banners on the wall.
Go Tigers Go!
Jenna imagined basketball games, proms and graduations that had taken place here, as Thomas led them down a row of corpses with the officers following. They stopped at a tiny form. Thomas lowered herself, looked up at Jenna and Blake as she collected the sheet.
This had to be done.
Ready? Thomas said.
Blake pulled Jenna tighter but it didnt stop her trembling.
He nodded and Thomas drew back the sheet.
Jennas skin numbed, she gasped and her stomach knotted.
The baby was a few months old and faceup on a plastic mat. It was a boy, wearing only a shirt. Part of his face was shredded into a pulpy stewlike mess. His left hand was gone. Jenna did not recognize his shirt.
She could barely push the words out. Can you turn him over?
Exercising utmost care, Thomas turned the tiny body. The little legs were muddied.
Can you clear the mud from his lower left leg? Jennas voice croaked.
Thomas gently passed her fingers over the section, cleaning it.
Relief pierced Jenna. Thats not my son. Thats not Caleb.
Youre both certain? Thomas asked.
Caleb has a small rocket-shaped birthmark on the back of his left calf, Jenna said. The mud covered that area, but theres no birthmark underneath. This babys hair is not the same shade as Calebs, either.
Yes, thats right, Blake said. This is not our son.
Thomas nodded to the officers and replaced the sheet. Then they all returned to the office where the others were informed that the deceased baby was not Caleb Cooper.
Thank you. We know this was agonizing, Thomas said.
Jenna nodded, but despite her relief, she mourned for the tiny dead angel and another mothers pain.