CRIMINAL CHRISTMAS: A Set of 8 Holiday Suspense Stories, page 87
“Don’t worry about me. I can order something later if I change my mind. I think I’ll go lay down for a while. I’m wiped.”
“That’s a good idea,” Sue conceded. “Just let me know if you need anything, all right?”
“Sure thing. See you in a little while,” I said, and I closed the door between our rooms. Then I called room service and ordered a bottle of wine.
Chapter 44
I stretched out on my bed, but didn’t sleep. Instead, I fretted about Tom, wondering where he was at this moment. Had the dogs tracked him down? Were the police closing in on him? Or had he managed to get clear of the area before the road blocks and search teams were in place?
That was the most likely theory. He had to have a vehicle. DiMaggio’s body was nearly four miles from Aunt Sue’s house. Even if he’d managed to move his body from the kill site to the ravine without a car, he would have needed transportation to carry the head to us. Well…perhaps that wasn’t true, but the main point was—Tom didn’t strike me as a sloppy idiot. I didn’t believe he would have set up such a macabre Christmas display without having a reliable car and a full tank of gas. He must be long gone by now.
I wondered how I got to this place—where I worried about a murderer’s safety and didn’t want him to get caught. I’d walked into that first meeting with Tom, not just with a chink in my armor; I’d gone in with no armor at all. I had been emotionally beaten down, weak, depressed. My self-esteem was as low as it could possibly be after my third book—Epitaph. I thought about how my own epitaph should read: Here lies that lunatic, binge-drinking writer, who sunk to the furthest depths of depravation, pledging herself to a monster.
I wanted someone to talk to, someone who I could confide in, someone who would tell me this would turn out all right. Not Sue or Harry. I thought about calling Andrea, but it was nearly 11:00 p.m. here, 2:00 a.m. on the East Coast. She would be asleep. Then I thought of calling Kat. I plucked my cell phone from the night table and entered my unlock code. I had voicemails from both of them. I decided to call Kat. Hearing her voice would be a comfort, even if it came with a lecture. My contact list opened at the beginning of the alphabet. The first name: Andy.
I never made the call to Kat, but instead spent the next several minutes crying into my pillow. I recalled the young guard’s smile, those hazel eyes peeking from under the mop of unruly light brown hair, and the way he had been so polite and kind to me. Guilt and pain weighed down on me as though I had been the one to kill Lutz because I still harbored love for the man who had most likely been responsible.
Eventually, I sat up and took another sip from my wine glass. In need of fresh air, I opened the sliding glass door leading to the balcony. The sky had turned dark long ago. As I looked down into the well-lit parking lot, I spotted Scanlon’s car pulling into a space. I went to the vanity, brushed my teeth and gave my make-up a quick retouch. Then I waited for him to come up but, after several minutes, I lost my patience and poked my head outside my room. Officer Newell was gone.
I heard Parrish’s harsh tones drifting from around the corner of the hallway. “You’re too close to the situation. You’ve lost all objectivity. What makes you so sure she’s not involved? It sounds as though you view this woman as some kind of saint.”
“A saint?” Darryl’s disembodied voice gave a hollow laugh. “No, she’s no saint. But she’s also not a killer.”
“You don’t know what she is. She had to be out of her mind to marry this guy. She knows exactly what he is, and she’s in love with him. That makes her dangerous.”
“No she’s not…”
“She’s on his side. If she hasn’t helped him already…she will.”
There was a brief silence, then I heard Darryl’s voice again. “I disagree.”
“You need to step back a few paces from these people and get your head straight, Scanlon. If you don’t, I swear I’ll kick your ass off the task force.”
“No, you won’t,” Darryl hissed. “You need me.” Another silence as I strained to hear more. Their volume had dropped. “I’m in a unique position with this family. I have an ‘in’ with them. They trust me. I can get things from them that no one else can—information, cooperation. They’ll do whatever I advise them to—especially Rebecca. And she’s the key to capturing Eisenbrey. He’s going to return to her.”
Scanlon’s face suddenly appeared around the corner, presumably as he glanced around to see if anyone could hear him. I was caught. Our eyes locked briefly, his expression unreadable. Then he disappeared and resumed his conversation. “Just give me some time with them and let me do my thing.”
I heard a few expletives from Parrish, followed by the word ‘maniac’.
“Maybe you think I’m a dick, but I’ve been a cop for twenty-three years, and I’ve spent more time on Eisenbrey’s case than anyone else on the task force. Trust me,” Darryl said. “I know what I’m doing.”
I stepped back inside my hotel room feeling as though I would never trust Darryl again, unable to understand how I could have so colossally misjudged him. Sure, he wasn’t perfect. He’d admitted planting evidence at one of the crime scenes. That was dishonest. I should have recognized it as a warning. But instead I’d coasted along believing everything he told me.
I stood just inside my room, trying to calm my breathing as I waited. After a few minutes, I heard soft footfalls out in the hallway. I whipped the door open, startling Darryl, as he had his hand poised to knock. “Rebecca…” he started.
“What the hell was that?” I demanded.
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough for two fucking lifetimes.”
Darryl gave the hallway a quick glance, stepped inside my room, and closed the door. He was holding a paper bag with a decorative holiday pattern. I knew what it held; I could see the top of the bottle. He smiled sheepishly and tried to hand it to me, “Uh…Merry Christmas?”
“And what’s that for, to make me pliant so I’ll do whatever you advise me to do?” For a moment, I considered grabbing the bottle by the neck and swinging it into the wall—hard. But then the practical side of me took charge. “Put it on the table,” I said. “I may get depressed enough to drink it later.”
He set it down where I suggested, giving me his best impression of contrition. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Then why did you say it?”
“I had to say those things to Parrish. He needed reassurance about my abilities.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Darryl’s energy seemed to overflow. He wasn’t able to hold still, so he paced a short distance away from me and then returned. “Look, Rebecca, here’s the thing—I’m not supposed to be in love with you.” His eyes searched mine with a desperate plea. “I can’t let him know about my feelings. I need time with you. I need to protect you, and there’s no other way to justify being here with you right now, when you need me most.”
I stared at him for a long time, trying to discern whether he was sincere, but found no answer. Finally, I said, “Okay.”
Scanlon let out the breath he’d been holding. “I’m sorry. I know it must have sounded really bad, but I just can’t think of any other way to deal with Parrish.”
I nodded, but I still hadn’t decided whether or not to buy his story. “Where’s Officer Newell?” I asked.
“I told him he could go. Law enforcement personnel are all spread a little thin at the moment with the manhunt. I volunteered to stay here and, after a lot of cajoling, Parrish authorized it.”
“The night shift, huh?” Why didn’t that surprise me? “And where do you intend to sleep? In my room?”
“I’m here to stand guard, not sleep. If you want me in the hallway, I’ll go out there. But I’d rather leave the door open that adjoins these rooms and set up a chair for myself by the opening. Then I’ll know if anything happens in either room.”
I had to agree this seemed like the best vantage point for him. And I didn’t expect Sue or Harry to complain about the arrangement. They were all for police protection after this morning’s scare. “Yeah, that sounds good,” I said, although I lacked enthusiasm.
“I should check in on them,” he said. He knocked on the door between our rooms. Sue opened it, and Darryl went in their room for several minutes before returning. Then he went out on my balcony, looked around, and came back inside, locking the sliding door.
“Are you ready to turn in?” he asked. “Harry and Sue said they’d turn off the TV whenever you’re ready. I’ll keep the door shut until then.”
Still stinging from Scanlon’s earlier betrayal, my thoughts turned to Tom. I remembered the gift he’d made for me and, though I knew it would only heighten the tension between us, I couldn’t stop myself from asking. “Darryl, I was just wondering—can I see it again?”
Darryl froze, eyes fixed on me, his expression guarded. If the mood in the room hadn’t been suspicion and distrust before, it was now. “See what?” he asked, carefully. He knew exactly what I wanted, so why play this game with me? Masked anger rose up in me that he was withholding it. It wasn’t his to withhold. It was mine.
I wanted to run the tips of my fingers over the carved patterns of its surface, hold the smooth wooden heart in the palm of my hand, wrap all of it up in my embrace once again.
“The box,” I replied, my voice flat. “Is it still in your car?”
“Yes.”
“What will you do with it?”
His gaze was wary, his mouth slightly ajar, but he didn’t answer.
“You won’t destroy it, will you?” A pang of fear shot through me at the thought.
“No. I was just going to hide it.”
“I need to see it again,” I told him.
He shook his head slowly, and said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I disagreed. I thought it was a great idea. I hadn’t had enough time with the box yet. I felt like I was starting to forget. Soon, the details of its design would be lost to me, and that would be a tragedy. “You don’t understand. I need to see it,” I explained.
“I know,” he said. “And that scares the shit out of me. There’s something strange about that box, Rebecca. When I look at it…especially when I touch it…I can feel him. It’s almost like he’s there.”
“I know.”
Darryl swallowed. “You can’t see it again. Cold turkey. It’s the only way to break your addiction to this guy.”
As if I wanted to break my addiction to Tom. Another flash of anger, but I kept my voice calm. “At least let me take a picture of it,” I said. Then I could see it whenever I wanted; I would have it forever.
“That’s an even worse idea.”
“Why?”
“What will you use—your cellphone?—the one that’s being monitored? You could shoot a photo of it in my trunk. Hell, with a little luck, you might even be able to catch my license plate in the shot. Wouldn’t that be swell?” His voice had been steadily rising, but he stopped himself and took a deep breath before continuing. “Even if you use a different camera, it’s too dangerous. I don’t know who else, besides me, would recognize it as something Eisenbrey carved. Several people know about the one he made for his mother.”
He lowered his volume, his tone infused with gentleness. “We need to make sure no one finds out about it. This is really important. You told them you hadn’t heard from Eisenbrey. If Parrish finds out you did, it will change the course of this investigation. You could become a suspect, not only in helping him escape, but helping with DiMaggio’s murder.”
I felt lightheaded. During the interrogation, I’d thought Parrish was just trying to intimidate me. But, after hearing the two men talk in the hallway, I knew Darryl was being straight with me. “Do you think that will happen?”
Darryl looked sad. “Parrish is a dangerous guy. He doesn’t trust you, and he really doesn’t care that I trust you. He’s searching everything at your aunt’s house. I hope to God he doesn’t find anything that he could use against you. Will he?”
I paused for a moment, my mind racing, trying to recall the items in my room, but I could think of nothing that they would find incriminating. The only dangerous thing I’d had was the box. How convenient for Darryl that he had it now. Could I trust him not to use it against me? But I didn’t seem to have another option. “No. I don’t have anything that should make me look bad.”
“Good.”
“And, fine, I won’t take a picture of the box. But I’d still like to see it again.”
Darryl wrapped his arms around me and whispered into my hair, “No, baby. You can’t see it. I can’t let you see it again. I’m sorry.”
Darryl didn’t understand. He really shouldn’t keep the box from me. But he could have it his way for now. I had an idea about how to deal with that. “Okay,” I said into his shoulder.
He stroked my hair and then pulled away far enough to look into my face. “Rebecca, you understand that you can’t see him anymore, right? He clarified any question you could have had about that with what he left on your front doorstep. His message couldn’t be any clearer—that was a threat.”
“That’s just it, I don’t think it was. I think he meant it as a gift.”
“Jesus…” Scanlon’s posture stiffened and he stared at me in disbelief. “What are you trying to say? How could that be a gift? Did you actually want Eisenbrey to kill that man?”
“No, not at all, but I wonder if Tom might have thought I did.”
“Why? Because of the incident you had with DiMaggio?”
“Yes. I didn’t want him harmed. Well…maybe punched in the face a few times, but…not what he got. That wasn’t right.”
“I think I understand what you mean: In Eisenbrey’s mind, since DiMaggio assaulted you, he did you a favor by taking him out.”
“Yes.”
“Rebecca, I want you to be very careful what you say on that topic to everyone—except me, of course.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I said. I looked up into his concerned face, offering a tentative smile. Who was this guy? Did he really care or was he just playing me? My fingers slithered down his arm and I took his hand in mine. “Go sit on the couch. I’ll get the whiskey.”
Chapter 45
I lay still, listening, waiting, until Scanlon’s breathing slowed to a steady rhythm. I had to strain to hear him. He’d set up his post eight feet from my bed, by the open door adjoining my room with Sue and Harry’s. His head lolled backward as he sat, slumped, in the chair. An uncomfortable position, I surmised. His neck would be sore when he awoke several hours from now. Not my problem.
Honestly, I was surprised he’d made it all the way to the chair after downing the cocktail of whiskey, cola, and sleeping pills I’d given him—my own creation. A moment of brilliance after he’d blocked my access to what I wanted.
I climbed out of bed and quietly slipped on my jeans, sweater, sneakers and coat. Then I felt inside the pocket of his blazer, which hung over the back of his chair, and found his keys. They jingled softly as I took them. I closed my fingers quickly to silence the sound, and froze, as Scanlon twitched and stopped breathing. I held my breath with him. A moment later, his breathing resumed, and he relaxed again. You think you can betray me? Well, right back at you, honey.
Peeking through the open doorway to the other room, I could see Harry and Sue were both asleep. Then I slipped silently from my room.
The hallway was deserted, so was the hotel lobby. Zipping my coat shut, I stepped into the frigid winter air, dark and still. No signs of life in the parking lot either. The pavement was free of snow, for the most part, but a few inches remained in areas with no foot or car traffic. As I made a beeline to Scanlon’s sedan, I could see each breath I took unfurling under the illumination of the lights.
I pressed the trunk release button on Scanlon’s key fob, and pushed up the lid. There was my suitcase. I glanced back over my shoulder. No, he hadn’t followed me. I scanned the third floor windows of the hotel, but I couldn’t tell if anyone looked out at me. Unfortunate that the windows of our rooms faced the parking lot, but Scanlon had probably asked for that specifically.
I opened the case, then the shipping box, and removed the object of my desire. Odd—how much I wanted to see it. Scanlon was right, I really felt almost as if Tom was here. I ran my fingers over the carved patterns with a light touch, savoring it as much as I could with such limited time. Then I opened it and removed the wooden heart, cupping my hands around it, holding it to my face and breathing in the scent of spice and musk. I felt so relieved—as if I had just returned home.
A deep voice emanated from the shadows. “There you are, darlin’. I wasn’t sure you’d make it out here to see me with that watchdog at your heel.”
Tom stepped out from behind a navy blue SUV parked two spaces from Scanlon’s car. His hair was dark and tousled, much like the last time I’d seen him. He had a little more facial hair, but not what I’d call a beard; he just looked like he hadn’t shaved for several days. He wore jeans, boots, and an olive colored field coat, unbuttoned, revealing a maroon and black flannel shirt. All in all, he didn’t seem to be wearing any kind of disguise. He looked like himself—like a hunter.
“Just out of curiosity, how did you manage to make it past him?” Tom asked.
“Sleeping pills…in his drink,” I said.
He grinned. “Good girl.”
Words began to rush out of me. “Tom, what are you doing here? You’re not safe. The police are searching for you.”
“Relax. They won’t find me.”
“How can you believe that? Anyone who sees you would recognize you. How have you made it this long without being discovered?”
He shrugged. “I have my ways.”
“Why are you here?”
“I had to come back for my wife, didn’t I?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re coming with me. That’s why you snuck out here, isn’t it? You’re going to run away with me.”
“Well…no,” I said. And it was true. My only intention had been to see the box so I could feel close to Tom. As wonderful as it was to see him in the flesh, I felt alarm growing inside me now he was actually here. “I can’t do that, Tom. My aunt and uncle…they need me.”
