She didn’t respond.
“Fine,” he said. “If that’s the way you want it.”
There was movement on the bed and then something ripped.
“Stop, you’re hurting me.”
“And what about me, Daniela? Have you considered what you’re doing to me, haven’t I treated you nice? I bought you beautiful flowers, I made arrangements for an expensive dinner for the two of us, and this is how you show your appreciation––by refusing me.”
“Stop it Parker, please.”
“Stop it Parker, you’re hurting me,” he said.
His attempt to taunt her went unanswered.
“I’ll teach you to refuse me you ungrateful bitch.”
His voice took on an incensed tone, a far cry from the gentleman that wooed me earlier that evening.
“Don’t move,” he said.
I turned the key in the ignition and slammed my foot on the petal. I didn’t want to blow our meeting the next day, but no woman deserved this.
There was a crash and then a thud and something hit the ground.
“Get back here!” he said.
The door slammed.
I pulled up in front of the building and a dark-haired woman sprinted out. One look at her disheveled hair and bare feet and I knew I had the right woman.
“Daniela,” I said, “get in.”
“Why should I, I don’t know you.”
“I’m a friend. Trust me please.”
“I…I don’t know.”
I grabbed the door handle and pushed the door open.
“It’s okay,” I said, “let me get you out of here.”
CHAPTER 19
“Who are you, and how do you know my name?”
I owed her an explanation, but how much of one I wanted to give, I didn’t know.
“Where to?” I said.
“Cottonwood Heights.”
“Are you okay?” I said.
She shook her head.
“And Parker?”
“His family jewels might be sore for a while, but I’m sure he’ll survive. He always does. Wait, how did you…?”
“How do you know Parker?” I said.
She gazed at me.
“You first.”
“It’s a long story. He’s the ex-boyfriend of a friend of mine’s sister. Have you known him long?”
“About a year.”
“Were you two involved?” I said.
“If you mean in a romantic way, yeah.”
“For how long?” I said.
“About nine months. I broke it off a couple weeks ago.”
It crossed my mind that Charlotte found out about his dirty little secret and that she paid for it with her life.
“Why did you break up?” I said.
She sighed and looked out my car window.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“When did he hit you last?” I said.
She looked startled that I knew, or assumed to know. At this point it was more of a hunch and I knew I had pushed her with my questions, but right now she was stuck in my car and unless she opened the door and flung herself out, she had no place else to go.
“Look lady, I don’t even know you so what’s with the twenty questions?”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” I said.
She massaged her arm with her left hand which jerked a tiny bit every time she touched it.
“Are you hurt?” I said.
She nodded.
“I wanted to break it off for good this time. That’s why I went to see him. How could I be so stupid, sono cosi stupido!”
I wasn’t sure what she meant, but it didn’t sound good.
“You loved him, didn’t you?” I said.
She hung her head but didn’t say a word.
“Do you know a woman named Charlotte Halliwell or Zoey Kendrick?”
She shook her head back and forth.
“Should I?”
“From what I understand they were both involved with Parker,” I said.
Her face hardened. She didn’t know.
“What makes you think there are others?”
“Up until a few months ago Parker planned to marry Charlotte Halliwell, but then she called it off,” I said.
She contracted her hand into a fist and thrust it into my leather seat––two times.
“That bastard!”
“If it’s any consolation, I believe he kept all of you in the dark. I think he wanted it that way,” I said.
“And you think this Charlotte person, she didn’t know either?”
“I’m not sure,” I said.
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“Because,” I said, “she’s dead.”
She took her hand and shielded her eyes and squeezed both temples.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” I said. “It would help me if you could tell me more about your relationship with him.”
“How did you know I was going to meet Parker tonight, and how did you happen to drive up at the exact time I ran out, like you expected me.”
“It’s a long story,” I said.
“Fine by me, you don’t answer my questions, I don’t answer yours.”
It seemed we were at an impasse. I didn’t want to give up my true motive and she didn’t want to pour her life story out to a stranger. One of us needed to relent. Her arms were crossed and her eyes were closed––the answer was obvious.
“Alright,” I said.
For the next several minutes I fed her rudimentary details about my interest in Parker Stanton and hoped she would keep quiet long enough for me to confront him myself. I made no mention of my earlier run in with him that evening.
“That’s crazy,” she said, when I finished.
“Now can you see why I need your help?” I said.
“And you want to know if I think Parker is capable of murder?”
“I’m asking you to share what you know about him. Anything you can tell me would help.”
“You might not believe me, but at first our relationship was different from anything I’ve ever experienced before, like something out of a fairy tale. He left presents on my doorstep and notes stuck to the windshield on my car, and he took me on trips all over the place. Paris by day, London by night. Nothing was out of his reach. I guess some part of me questioned whether it was too good to be true, but I didn’t want to believe it wasn’t. No one in my life had ever treated me that way before.”
“When did things change?” I said.
“About halfway into the relationship, but by then it wasn’t easy to get out.”
“It’s a hard decision to make, especially when you’ve invested your feelings into it,” I said.
“Parker has a nasty temper and anything can set him off. At first he would just grab my arm or pin me down but after awhile, that wasn’t enough. One day he shoved me and I fell. He spent the next two days apologizing and said if I had it in me to forgive him he’d never lay a hand on me again.”
“And did he?” I said.
“For the next couple months after that no, and then last month he went off in a tirade. He hit me in the face and it left marks. I backed up and tried to get away from him and tripped over the coffee table, and that’s when this happened.
Daniela turned on the passenger side light and lifted up her shirt. It revealed a faded bruise that spanned about seven inches on her side.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That must have hurt.”
“I thought he was the one. We planned our life together––kids, the whole bit.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
She shook her head.
“I wanted to, but I was embarrassed,” she said. “I didn’t want my family to find out what happened so I left for a couple weeks and visited a friend while I tried to sort it all out in my head. I know what you think––how could I go back to that monster after what happened? He called me every day and for a long time I didn’t answer, but the messages he left me were so sweet. Even with all we’d been through in the past, it was hard not to see him again.”