CRIMINAL CHRISTMAS: A Set of 8 Holiday Suspense Stories, page 86
“Yeah, I do,” I said, looking up at him.
“Is there anything else you can think of that you should have told the authorities, but didn’t?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Okay,” he said after considering me for a few moments. “Just make damn sure you always tell me everything—and I mean absolutely everything—regarding Eisenbrey. I’ll filter it and decide whether or not to tell Parrish. All right?”
“Yes, I will. I promise.”
“Okay,” he said, with a curt head bob. His expression was kind, though I detected sadness in his eyes. “So…what are we going to pack?”
Chapter 43
Fifteen minutes later, I was glancing back at my aunt’s house through the rear window of Uncle Harry’s SUV as we followed Darryl to the hotel he’d chosen in Ellensburg, forty miles away. Agent Parrish trailed behind us in his car.
I secured my seatbelt and let my head rest on the back of the car seat, turning to stare out the side window. The repetition of the trees flashing by and the steady crunch of gravel under our tires had a calming effect, which I needed. Soon, I noticed the hum of pavement as we hit the main road. Other than the sounds of our driving, silence enveloped me; the three of us were too stunned to carry on a conversation. Uncle Harry stared hard at the road before him, occasionally shooting a quick glance at me via his rearview mirror, or at Sue next to him, until we arrived at the hotel.
As I got out of the vehicle, the wind whipped my hair into a mess. One of my least favorite things about Ellensburg: the air never seemed to be still. The playful grin that flitted across Darryl’s features told me my hair had not opted for a sexy windswept model on the beach look, but something much more comical. It wasn’t fair. He looked handsome with his short light-brown hair in disarray. It only added to his appeal.
We walked behind Darryl into the hotel. “It’s not fancy, but they had a vacancy,” he told us. He was right. The building was a large, white stucco affair, three stories tall, plain and uninteresting. Fine by me. Having a clean, safe place to sleep tonight was enough to make me happy.
“It looks great,” I said.
Once inside, Darryl went to the front desk and checked us in. Then he helped us bring our luggage to our rooms, minus the extra suitcase that remained in the trunk of his car. I wondered if he was still irritated about that. His normal exuberance seemed subdued.
My aunt and uncle would stay next door in an adjoining hotel room. I hadn’t expected us to have separate rooms, and I felt grateful to have my own space. I wondered if this was Scanlon’s way of creating an opportunity for us to be alone together at some point.
The five of us assembled in my room. I sat on the sofa with Sue and Harry, Darryl sat on my bed, and Parrish remained standing, though he was right next to a nice, comfortable-looking, padded chair. His arms were folded. He looked like a dick.
Darryl said, “I know you’re under a lot of stress.” Then he looked pointedly at Parrish, who remained unmoved. “I arranged for rooms on the third floor so we won’t have to worry about him getting in from the outside, and we’ll keep an officer in the hallway.”
“We really appreciate this, Detective Scanlon,” Aunt Sue said, and Harry murmured his agreement. They had both been quiet since I’d discovered the head that morning.
“I’m Darryl to you,” he told my aunt. Scanlon leaned forward, placing his hand on Aunt Sue’s shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry, ma’am. We’re going to find him and, in the meantime, we’ll keep the three of you protected.” He removed his hand, clearing his throat. “We received some new information while we were en route: They found the rest of DiMaggio’s body dumped down a ravine in a wooded area, not far from Kachess Lake.”
“Oh shit,” Uncle Harry said, clearly shaken.
“Three point seven miles from your house,” Agent Parrish told us.
Odd that the discovery of DiMaggio’s body should upset me, yet it did. We’d already known he was dead, and the rest of him had to have been out there somewhere. But knowing they’d found it made the reality of what had happened sink farther in. My aunt and I exchanged nervous glances. I knew she was as relieved as I that we’d been relocated.
“I don’t understand. Why was he killed?” I asked. “Did DiMaggio help Tom escape? Or do you think he was taken against his will?”
“No one believes that DiMaggio wasn’t in on this,” Scanlon said. “He brought Eisenbrey a guard’s uniform and then led him out of the prison. That’s not the behavior of someone who’s under duress. He must have also arranged for a vehicle, since DiMaggio’s car was left in the employee parking area.”
“Of course, it’s possible he could have been afraid someone on the outside would harm him, or his relatives, if he didn’t cooperate,” Parrish said, his eyes narrowed into slits.
Scanlon met Parrish’s glare and held it. Obviously, there was some kind of disagreement between the two men that I couldn’t discern. I hoped Scanlon would fill me in on it later. He turned to me and asked, “Did Eisenbrey ever talk about anyone he knew on the outside?”
“No. He didn’t even mention that other serial killer, Roddy Jenks, until I asked about him. I don’t know who his friends might be.”
Scanlon exchanged another look with Parrish and then sighed. He seemed annoyed. “Did he ever ask you to say or do anything to threaten DiMaggio?” Darryl asked.
“Really?” I said. Now it was my turn to be annoyed. “You can’t be serious. I’ve never threatened DiMaggio; it was the other way around.”
Parrish spoke next. “One of the other guards, Don Avery, reported an incident where DiMaggio became very aggressive with you. He pushed you into the wall.”
“Yes, and he also told me it wouldn’t be very hard for him to find out my home address. His behavior was creepy.”
“Did you report it to anyone?” Parrish asked.
“No.”
“Why not?” he asked, his stare unwavering. His expression told me he thought this was a poor judgment call on my part.
“Well…I didn’t want any trouble.”
“Really,” he said, continuing to watch me. “Could it have been because you were planning to settle the score with him outside of the prison?”
“No! Jesus, do you honestly think I’d do something to harm him?”
“No, we do not,” Scanlon said stiffly, shooting Parrish a look that could almost have caused the man to burst into flames.
Parrish shrugged. “It’s on my list of possibilities.” He paused to let that sink in, giving me a harsh stare. “Have you heard anything from your husband since his escape?”
“No, and I’ve already answered that several times today.”
“You’re sure about that?” One of his eyebrows went up in a way that might have seemed comical if I wasn’t so nervous.
“Yes…” Thoughts raced through my head. Something about Parrish’s demeanor made me feel like spilling my guts. His excessive eye contact bothered me. I had paused too long to not look guilty of something. He clearly expected more information from me, but I quickly dismissed any temptation to tell him about the box. “Well…there was the note, but I didn’t know about that until an officer told me.”
“Yes. The note: With love and kisses, Your Pet.” He paused, allowing my nerves to get even more amped up before he continued. “That was very telling. It’s obvious your husband was giving you something that you wanted—perhaps something you’d even asked him to do.”
“I didn’t want DiMaggio to be hurt.”
“You didn’t like him,” he shot back.
“That’s correct. But I didn’t want him hurt or killed.”
My uncle spoke next. “I don’t like your tone, Mr. Parrish. Rebecca’s not the kind of woman that would hurt anyone. She had nothing to do with this.”
Parrish ignored my uncle, and fired another question at me. “Where were you during the last twenty-four hours?”
“Beck’s been with us ever since the escape,” Uncle Harry snapped. “She only left the house once to go shopping, and that was more than two weeks ago.”
“So she hasn’t been out of your sight?” Parrish asked.
“That’s right,” Uncle Harry said.
“And do you watch her sleep?” Parrish said, his tone full of ice.
“No.” Harry answered quietly. “But maybe we should. It looks like Eisenbrey isn’t the only one she needs protection from. Tell me, Special Agent Parrish, do we need to make sure she has an alibi twenty-four seven from now on?”
“That might not be a bad idea, Mr. Miller,” Parrish replied. “I don’t have any other questions at this time. I’ll be in touch.” He turned to Scanlon, and said, “I’m heading back to the scene.”
Darryl said, “Sounds good, but I’m going to stay here a little while longer.” I could see Scanlon trying to communicate something silently to Parrish, and the other man apparently got the picture. He shook his head, not attempting to mask that he thought Scanlon was doing something that he didn’t agree with.
I followed the two men to the door to see Parrish out. Then, to my utter relief, he walked down the long hallway and disappeared around the corner leading to the stairwell.
Darryl tugged my arm gently, pulled me into the hall with him, and closed the door to my room. I looked up at him, unable to mask my fear, and asked, “What the fuck?”
Darryl swallowed. “He had to ask that stuff.”
“Yeah, but did he have to be so cunty about it? Jesus H…”
“That quick little interview was nothing compared to what it could have been. He wanted to use an interrogation room at the sheriff’s office, but I convinced him that he’d get more out of you if you were somewhere you felt comfortable.”
“Hmm,” I tossed that thought around in my head for a moment. “I’m not sure what he would have gotten out of me in an interrogation room, but I’m glad we didn’t find out. Thanks.”
“You were honest with him, right?” he asked with wary concern.
“Yes, I was...except for the box.”
“Good. Parrish isn’t someone we want to mess with. You’ve only seen his nice side. The sooner I can get you off of his radar, the better.”
Darryl opened the door and, as we were stepping back inside, a young man in a county sheriff’s uniform arrived. He introduced himself to Scanlon as Dan Newell, and Scanlon introduced him to Sue, Harry and me.
After a brief chat, Darryl and Officer Newell checked the balconies in each room. Then Newell moved a chair from my room out to the hallway, setting up his post, and shut the door. Sue and Harry decided to ‘give us kids some space’. Darryl and I were alone.
We sat side by side on my bed. Darryl glanced at my trembling hands, clasped in my lap, and said, “You need a drink. Room service has beer and wine, but you look like you could use something stronger than that. The next time I drop by, I’ll bring whiskey.”
“You can read me like a book.”
“Sometimes.”
“Darryl, there’s something that I’ve been thinking about. It’s really bothering me, and…” I breathed in deeply. “I need to ask.”
“What is it?” he said, pushing some of my hair back from my cheek and tucking it behind my ear.
“How was DiMaggio killed?” I asked him. “Was there any of the ritualistic stuff you mentioned before?”
“Yes, there was,” he said. “His wrists and ankles had been duct taped together. We think he was secured to a tree during the torture and murder and then moved to the ravine by the lake.”
“That poor man,” I said. I didn’t have to be a fan of DiMaggio’s to feel terrible about his suffering.
“Yeah, well that poor man helped a serial killer escape from prison. As far as I’m concerned, anyone who aligns himself with Eisenbrey has it coming,” Darryl said, in a voice full of bitterness and hate uncharacteristic of him. He stopped talking abruptly, with a stricken expression. “Oh, Rebecca, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean you.”
“That’s okay. You’re right.”
“I’m not comparing you to DiMaggio at all. You didn’t turn Eisenbrey loose. DiMaggio, on the other hand, bears just as much responsibility for the death of Eisenbrey’s future victims as Eisenbrey does. I’m glad he turned out to be one of the victims himself. Serves him right.”
I wasn’t angry, or even irritated about what he had said. I could see his point, and I didn’t disagree.
He continued, “What could Eisenbrey have promised DiMaggio to get his help breaking out of prison?”
“I have no idea,” I said.
“Regardless of what he offered, I don’t understand why DiMaggio believed him.” Darryl shook his head in wonder, then after a brief hesitation he added, “He must have been very persuasive.”
Though it wasn’t posed as a question, I sensed he wanted me to weigh in on this. “Tom could be very persuasive. I still don’t understand how he drew me in. When I started interviewing him, I noticed right away that he didn’t dish out compliments readily. I had to earn each nice thing he said to me. For some reason, that made me want to earn his approval even more. When he finally warmed up to me it seemed genuine, but…I was never really sure.” It bothered me to admit that about the man I had married.
Scanlon rested his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Rebecca, I’m so worried about you. I wish you weren’t going through this.” I worried too, but Darryl’s pained expression told me that his level of concern for me was off the charts. He leaned toward me and, in an instant, his mouth was on mine. I felt myself wrapped up in his sturdy embrace, warmed by his body up against me. It felt so good, so affirming, to be loved and comforted like this. At that moment, I knew without a doubt that, if Tom didn’t exist, I would be in a relationship with this man.
Tom…
“Stop,” I said in a breathless whisper. He didn’t seem to hear me. “Darryl, please. We need to stop.” My words registered that time, and he drew back, letting out a defeated sigh.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I shouldn’t do that but, when I look in your eyes—the way you look back at me—it just seems right.”
“Yeah, I understand,” I told him. And I did. I was well aware I’d been gazing at Darryl with admiration, although Tom’s face was now in the forefront of my thoughts.
“I’d better go back to your aunt’s house before I get myself in any more trouble,” he said with a grin. “I’ll be back to check on you in a few hours.” He stroked the underside of my chin with his forefinger, planting a quick kiss on my forehead as he left.
I knocked on the door that adjoined the two hotel rooms. Aunt Sue opened it. “Come on in, sweetie,” she said. Uncle Harry was leaning back into the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, watching the television. He had it on a news channel.
“Darryl gone?” Harry asked without looking from the TV.
“Yes, but he’ll be back later.”
“Good. He’s a nice young man. I like him,” Sue said.
I heard a man’s voice mention ‘new developments in Easton’. Harry pulled his feet off the coffee table and sat up, looking alert. I walked over to stand next to him and faced the television.
The screen cut to a pretty Hispanic woman, speaking into a microphone. The funky little Easton Post Office building, with its steep-pitched metal roof and A-frame enclosure over the entrance, stood behind her in the shot.
“Early this Christmas morning, the quiet mountain town of Easton, Washington, was rocked by a gruesome discovery. A severed head was found at the residence of Harold and Susan Miller. Hours later, police located the body of the victim, identified as Richard DiMaggio, in a wooded area near Kachess Lake. Sources say Ms. Miller is the aunt of author, Rebecca Reis, the wife of convicted serial killer, Thomas Eisenbrey. And Ms. Reis had been staying with her aunt since her husband’s escape from the Washington State Penitentiary in Walla Wall twenty-two days ago.
“During that time, there were no confirmed sightings of Eisenbrey and, until this morning, police believed he had fled the state. However, given that Mr. DiMaggio was the prison employee who disappeared the night of Eisenbrey’s escape, and the fact that his wife’s residence was targeted, police admit there’s little doubt Eisenbrey is behind this murder.
“Earlier today, police commenced a full-scale search for Eisenbrey with K-9 units, road blocks, vehicle searches, and helicopters—though these measures have done little to allay the fears that Easton residents have for their safety this evening.
“Eisenbrey, also known as the Hunter, has been convicted of nine murders and is considered extremely dangerous. Law enforcement cautions: if you see Eisenbrey, do not approach him and call 911 immediately. They also ask those in the area to report anything that seems out of the ordinary—such as signs of a break in—any missing items such as: food, water, clothing, blankets or anything else Eisenbrey could utilize while he’s at large. And to take care, until Eisenbrey is once again behind bars.”
I looked away from the television and sat on their bed. Uncle Harry muted the volume. “Great,” I said. “Now everyone knows you’re related to me. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be silly,” Sue said. “That’s the least of my concerns. I just want the three of us to stay safe until he’s captured.” She gave me a pat on the shoulder.
“That’s right, sweetie,” Harry said. Then he cleared his throat. “Listen…I know we’re all upset, but I have to bring up the subject of dinner. We haven’t eaten anything all day. I don’t know about you girls, but I’m starving. I’m calling for room service.”
“I’m right there with you, Harry,” Sue said. “It’s been a long day. How about you, Beck?”
“No, thanks. I’m not hungry,” I told them. It was true. The thought of eating seemed strange and foreign to me at a time when my future was in peril. More important—food would screw with the buzz I intended to have very soon.
“You really should eat something, dear,” Sue fussed.
