CRIMINAL CHRISTMAS: A Set of 8 Holiday Suspense Stories, page 83
“Why? Andy and I were friends.”
“You’re married to the guy that murdered him. How do you think his family would feel about seeing you there? I don’t think you should make this any more difficult than it already is for them.”
“Oh.” I tried not to sound as taken aback as I was. “Okay, I guess I can see your point.”
“Not to mention that most of his coworkers will be in attendance. And I have to say, you are not popular with any of the staff here anymore.”
“Really?” I asked, wondering if that was actually true or if Barnett was just passing his personal opinion off as the general consensus. I didn’t think it mattered though. The only guard I would have wanted to keep in touch with was Lutz. “All right. I won’t go.”
“Good,” Barnett said, and then he hung up.
I stared at the phone in my hand for a moment, feeling bewildered. That hadn’t gone as I’d expected at all. So I couldn’t go to Lutz’s funeral. But I also couldn’t just do nothing. It wouldn’t be right.
I looked up funeral homes in Walla Walla and found two listings. The first one I called happened to be the one that was handling his funeral and they told me it would take place in three days. Then I called a florist and ordered some flowers and a card to be delivered to the church on the morning of the funeral. That made me feel a little better; Barnett hadn’t specifically asked me not to send flowers. The card inscription I had asked the florist to write was:
In loving memory of Andrew Lutz, cherished friend.
My thoughts and prayers to his family, and to all those who knew and loved him.
After that, I packed, loaded my suitcases and bags into my car and made some more coffee while I awaited my escort.
Chapter 37
It wasn’t long before impatience got the better of me, and I decided to search my closet once more to confirm there was nothing in it I couldn’t live without. Then I heard my cellphone, catching it on the first ring. “Hello.”
“Is this Rebecca?” an unfamiliar female voice asked. I immediately tensed, and kicked myself for answering when I hadn’t checked the caller ID. My thoughts had been elsewhere. There were few people I wanted to talk to at the moment. I hoped this wasn’t some reporter that had managed to get hold of my private cell number.
“Yes,” I said tentatively.
“This is Sarah Eisenbrey, your mother-in-law if what I hear is true.” I realized it was indeed the truth, a fact that startled me. With all of the turmoil I’d gone through prior to the marriage, I hadn’t considered his family would become my family. I recalled feeling an affinity with Tom’s mother the day she’d shared pictures and tales of her family with me. I’d wanted to comfort her, but I hadn’t known what to say. Now that she’d acknowledged our legal relationship, my feelings of kinship toward her returned, stronger than before.
“Oh, Mrs. Eisenbrey! I was just going to call you,” I lied. I’d been so busy with packing and planning my getaway, the thought hadn’t yet occurred to me.
“I heard about the escape. How are you holding up?”
“I’m all right,” I said. Another lie. “How about you?”
“I’m okay, I suppose. Detective Scanlon asked me to find someplace else to stay for a while, until Tom is captured.”
“Same here,” I said. I wondered if she had someone to stay with. I didn’t know if she had many friends or relatives that she was close to. She’d seemed so alone the day we met. I supposed, on some level, my aunt and uncle were Tom’s family now too, although I felt sure they’d argue that point once I worked up the courage to tell them about it. I didn’t look forward to that conversation.
I knew my aunt and uncle were the kind of rock solid people who could cope with the crazy things life threw at them. They would still love me after I told them what I’d done, even if they were disappointed. I also knew they were the kind of folks who wouldn’t want this woman to be alone. “I was just packing some things. I’m going to my aunt’s house. Would you like to stay with us?”
“That’s kind of you, dear. But no, I’ll stay put. If Tom comes after me, then so be it.”
“Look, for what it’s worth, I don’t believe Tom has any intention of harming you. He spoke very highly of you.”
“Really? Was he upset about any of the things I told you?” she asked. “Was he angry that I stopped speaking to him?”
“No, not at all. He said he understood you needed space. He was okay with that.”
“If that’s true, good. But I heard that he attacked you in the prison. Did you expect him to do that?”
“Well…no,” I admitted.
“Tommy’s full of surprises, but I guess you are also. Tell me, why on earth did you agree to marry him?”
I stammered for a moment as I searched for an adequate answer. “I fell in love with him,” I said simply. “Maybe that sounds crazy.”
“It’s crazy all right, but I can’t judge you for it. I love him too. I can see why it happened. Tommy has plenty of good qualities.” There was a pause, and Mrs. Eisenbrey cleared her throat. “But, given that he turned out to be the Hunter, I’m not sure any of the good he shows us is genuine.”
Once again, I felt my emotions rising to the surface. I’d done more than my share of crying over the last two days. I swallowed, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I’m…uh, sure you’re right,” I mumbled.
“I imagine you’re feeling a little confused right now,” she said.
“That’s sure the truth,” I agreed, relieved that she at least understood that much.
“I’ve been there myself.” She went quiet for a few moments. The silence stretched on just long enough to make me feel awkward, but for the life of me I couldn’t pull anything else out of my head to say to her. Finally, she spoke again. “You’ve still got my number?”
“Yes, and I’m glad you kept mine.”
“Well, it looks like we’re in this together, kiddo, so don’t be a stranger. You call me anytime you want. All right, dear?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Eisenbrey. I will, and the same goes for you…anytime. I’m glad you called.”
The next few days were filled with various degrees of tension. My aunt and uncle, though shocked by the news of my marriage to Tom, reacted much the way I had expected. They were kind and supportive, disappointed with my choice, and their love for me was unmistakable. I felt grateful to have them.
Scanlon called to check on me at regular intervals, and he’d arranged for two police officers to be stationed at my aunt and uncle’s house at all times. Initially, the officers had spent most of their time in the squad car or walking around the perimeter of the house and the yard—which consisted of an acre of forest with a small cleared area around the building. The location was remote; none of the neighboring houses were visible. It was freezing outside and, gradually, they began accepting our invitations to remain indoors. They even gave in to my aunt’s offers of hot drinks and cookies.
Their presence, though it annoyed me at times, was a comfort. It was difficult for me to go from living alone to having no privacy. Between my aunt and uncle, and the officers, I almost always had another human being in the room with me. My only reprieve was going in my bedroom to read. But it beat being alone and terrified, so I wasn’t about to complain.
Every news report we saw spoke of Tom’s escape. Unfortunately, I was on television along with him now that our marriage was common knowledge, and it upset me more than I’d expected. Being the Hunter’s wife wasn’t what I wanted to be known for. When I’d made the decision to go through with it, I’d allowed myself the delusion of secrecy, pushing from my mind any threat of publicity. Yes, it had been stupid, but it had allowed me to go forward. Now both of our faces were on TV sets around the country. It had just been sheer luck no one called any reporters until after his escape. I’d been spared the limelight for those five days.
When the news stations gave law enforcement their sound bite, I didn’t see Scanlon. But I did see an interview with Special Agent Steven Pollock of the FBI, one of the men who had searched my house immediately after the escape. He didn’t mention me, and that I appreciated. He was all about Tom. Pollock did well in front of the camera, inspiring confidence in me that the FBI would catch the Hunter soon. If my only information on the case was what I had gleaned from that news report, I might have believed all was under control. But I knew that wasn’t really the case. Scanlon had told me they didn’t have any leads. So far, there hadn’t been a single sighting of Tom anywhere.
Chapter 38
December 8th, 2012
I awoke that morning with Andy Lutz in my thoughts, and an overwhelming feeling of loss and depression. Today was Friday, a day I would normally go to the prison. I missed Lutz, but I missed Tom a thousand times harder. I didn’t know if Tom had killed Lutz, and this feeling in my heart terrified me because even if he had I still wanted Tom; I wanted to be with him more than anything else.
Grabbing the box of Kleenex I kept on my night table, I withdrew multiple tissues and spent several minutes crying it out, knowing I would never be able to see him again, and allowing myself to feel the pain. His funeral had taken place the day before and, on Barnett’s advice, I hadn’t attended. I wished I could have gone to the ceremony, not just to pay my respects, but to get some closure.
The police officers were still present with us at my aunt’s house, though the tension had dissipated a great deal. Four days had elapsed since the escape, and there had been no sign of any trouble. Officer Walters, a pleasant man in his early fifties was working the morning shift and seemed relaxed about the situation. He told me outright he thought his department had gone overboard in agreeing with Scanlon’s request for around-the-clock protective surveillance. He felt this was the last place on Earth that Tom would go. I was inclined to agree.
By late morning, the stir-craziness got to me. I felt as though I couldn’t stay indoors any longer. I decided to put on a hat and sunglasses, and go for a drive back to my house in Bellevue.
Everywhere I looked along my excursion there were reminders of the approaching holiday—Christmas lights on many of the storefronts and houses. Though the holiday was overshadowed by Tom’s escape, and the stress it put on all of us, I felt a little normalcy would help my frame of mind, so I decided to go to a department store to try to figure out what to do about gifts for my aunt and uncle. And should I get something for Scanlon? We were becoming close. Also, as insane as it seemed, I wondered if I should get something for Tom just in case he made an appearance. I wanted to make him happy if I ever saw him again, even though that possibility frightened me. I had no clue what his intentions would be toward me—would he kiss me or try to kill me? Either way, it might behoove me to have something ready to give him as proof that I still had warm thoughts toward him.
As I pulled into my driveway I noticed a red Honda Accord parallel parked across the street. I couldn’t see the person sitting in the driver’s seat very well, but I dismissed them as someone I probably didn’t know.
I went into my house and grabbed a couple of reference books I wanted on the pathology of serial killers. I planned to try working on my book about Tom when I returned to Easton. Then I went around my house, giving each room a cursory glance, finding a sweater I wanted to have with me. It hadn’t really been necessary for me to return to the house for these items but I wanted to see that everything was secure. I set the house alarm and locked the door. Then I got back in my car and headed to a mall that was close by.
As I neared the shopping center, I realized that a red Honda Accord was directly behind me. In fact, it looked like the one that had been parked in front of my house. I could see the driver was a woman, but I wasn’t sure if it was the same person.
To my surprise she followed me into the parking lot, and pulled into a stall close to mine. When I got out of my car, she got out of hers as well and approached me. The woman was shorter than I, with brown hair just beginning to succumb to gray. Her expression seemed odd, and as she got close I noted something familiar about her hazel colored eyes.
“You filthy whore!” she screeched.
“What?” I asked. The woman had me stunned. I had no idea why a complete stranger would approach me and shout an accusation like that.
“Your husband murdered my son!” Realization dawned. I began to make sense of the unprovoked aggression. She was Andy’s mother.
“Mrs. Lutz?” I asked.
“What in the hell is wrong with you? Andy told me about how you were coming to visit that animal every week for that cursed book of yours.” Actually it had been twice a week, a point that seemed ill-advised to correct. “And that’s some nerve you’ve got sending flowers to Andy’s funeral, as if you cared about him, as if you gave a shit!” She drew a ragged breath and then continued. “We didn’t want your damned flowers or the card or anything else from you to remind us that the son of a bitch who murdered my son is running around free right now! And I’ll bet you’re just pleased as punch about that, aren’t you! What’s the plan? Are you going to meet up with him somewhere? Hell, I’ll bet you helped him escape!”
“No! No ma’am, I didn’t…”
“You lying bitch! People like you don’t deserve to walk this earth! But my Andy did. He was a decent young man, and he’s gone now because of that monster! I wish God would strike the two of you down!”
I stood motionless, dumbstruck, as I stared at Mrs. Lutz. As shocked as I was by the intensity of the hatred spewing from her, I understood her anguish about the loss of her son. I couldn’t think of anything to say to the poor woman to make the situation any better, and I was painfully aware that people were watching us. In fact, a crowd was gathering in the parking lot.
All too late, I saw the folly of leaving my aunt’s house, believing that sunglasses and a hat could disguise me. Mrs. Lutz looked around at the spectators with a smug expression and shouted, “That’s right. This woman is married to that serial killer, Thomas Eisenbrey! You’ve seen her on the news. She married him so she could fuck him at the prison! Take a good look at her, all of you!”
That shocked me into action. “Holy shit! Quiet down lady!” I said in hushed yet desperate tones, but it was no use. She continued to shout.
“Andy told me about your wedding. He said he was the best man. And this is the thanks he gets? Eisenbrey slit his throat on his way out of the prison! My son said you were a nice woman. He said the two of you were friends.” Her lower lip trembled and she looked as though she was going to burst into tears at any moment now. Her shoulders slumped.
“We were. I was very fond of Andy. He was a wonderful young man. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
But my positive appraisal of her son only gave the woman a second wind. “How can you live with yourself, being married to that murdering piece of shit? Why won’t you tell the police where he’s hiding? Why won’t you turn him in?”
That made me angry and I snapped. “How dare you! I don’t know where he is!” I glanced around at some of the people who had gathered to watch the festivities and realized my mistake. Shouting back at this woman wasn’t going to win me any popularity contests. I needed to rein in my temper and be respectful.
I didn’t use to be one of those writers people recognized when I walked down the street, but I’d sold enough books that my name sounded familiar to many. Even now that my picture had been aired on the news, I’d felt confident that I could make it in and out of a store without drawing any attention to myself—until this. She’d made my connection to Tom clear to these witnesses. They would remember me. Anything I said or did here today would be retold and criticized later, and I was too flustered to figure out the right way to deal with this situation.
“You’re a lying little tramp! You need to do the right thing! You need to turn in the man who murdered my son, that serial killer, Thomas Eisenbrey!”
I could see there would be no placating Mrs. Lutz. Her main goal seemed to be my public embarrassment, and she had succeeded. I also understood why she hadn’t done this in front of my house—I didn’t have enough neighbors. The audience in the mall parking lot was much larger. I estimated at least forty people observing.
I recognized my defeat. I told her once more that I was sorry about her son. Then I got back in my car and started the engine, my hand trembling so badly that my keys jingled. I drove straight to the entrance of eastbound I-90 and headed back toward Easton.
The exchange had left me extremely shaken. I hoped Mrs. Lutz had gotten it out of her system and that would be the only public display I would have to endure. I was no longer in any condition to shop, and when or if I ever did feel ready to give it another try, I wouldn’t return to that store.
Chapter 39
When I was halfway back to Easton, my cellphone rang. I looked at the display and sighed. I’d better not hide from this woman’s calls any longer. “Hi Kat,” I said.
“There you are! God, Rebecca, I’ve been so worried! Where have you been? I’ve called at least a dozen times. Why haven’t you answered?”
“Sorry. My phone was turned off for a while.”
“I want to see you right away. Where are you?”
“I’m on the mountain pass, on my way back to Easton,” I said. “I need to stay with my aunt for a while.”
“They said on the news that you got married to that guy. What the fuck? Is that really true?”
I let a breath out slowly between my teeth, telling myself that her pissyness was justified, no matter that it irritated me. “Yeah, I did.”
A long silence as I let her process that. Finally, she asked, “Why?”
“Look, it’s complicated.”
“I could tell you were getting feelings for him, but Jesus...”
“Yes, I know.” I took a deep breath. “I fell in love with him. There. Are you happy?”
“No, I’m not. How the hell did this happen? You’ve always been so normal, you know, even on the verge of boring. And now…talk about going to the dark side.”
