The Devil's Lullaby

by Chris Scalise

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, she’s dead now. They found her body at Red Rock Canyon.”

  Kristen cupped her hands over her mouth and started to cry. “No! What happened?”

  “Dominic happened. And that’s why you have to promise me you’ll stay away from him. Don’t go to his church. Don’t answer his phone calls. Just stay away.”

  Kristen wiped the tears from her eyes. “Are the cops going to arrest him?”

  “I don’t know,” Aunt Allison said. “They said they’re investigating, but that piece of shit always seems to get away.”

  Kristen pulled her phone from her pocket and looked at the screen. “But what do I do about this email?”

  “What email?”

  Kristen handed her phone to Aunt Allison. On the screen was a Gmail message from dominic@lvexorcist.com.

  Puzzled, Allison read the message.

  Dearest Kristen,

  I’m so glad you were able to attend Tuesday’s session. In the coming weeks, I’ll be addressing the subjects of spiritual bondage in much greater detail and even providing worksheets and exercises for recognizing and overcoming the enemy’s attacks and means of seduction. Below, I’ve included a list of Bible verses to reflect upon. I would recommend committing them to memory, as they are the most powerful weapons you have against Satan’s attacks.

  I am also excited to hear that you’ve decided to proceed with this course. If you’re unable to submit your payment online before Tuesday, you can bring a check or cash to the next session. I would also recommend reading Ephesians chapter 6 before you arrive, as we’ll be analyzing it in great detail. As a general introduction to this subject matter, I would also recommend picking up a copy of The Demonologist, which features extensive interviews with the demonologists Ed and Lorraine Warren and goes into impressive depth about how dark forces operate in people’s daily lives.

  Looking forward to seeing you on Tuesday.

  Pastor Dom

  Beneath the message was a reply from Kristen that read simply, “ok thanks i’ll see you then.”

  The final message in the email chain was a follow-up from Dominic.

  Kristen,

  I just realized that my chapel won’t be available Tuesday night. I completely forgot that I had rented it out for a film shoot almost three months ago. So I’ll be having next week’s session at my home in Henderson. The address is 14621 Oasis Crossing.

  Snacks will be provided, of course. I’m sorry for the inconvenience and would be happy to set up a ride if you need it. Just let me know. Thank you.

  Pastor Dom

  Allison’s face lit up as she looked over the address on the screen: 14621 Oasis Crossing. That was the house. And now Dominic was actively sending a young girl to that address. Surely that should be enough to put him away, right?

  Allison felt energized for the first time in a week, the first time since she had received that gut-wrenching phone call from Officer Jacobs. “There’s never any easy way to say this,” he had said, “but we found your friend’s body. She was buried in a shallow grave at Red Rock Canyon.”

  Apparently, Cassidy had died from starvation and dehydration, presumably from being deprived of food and water. There were marks on her wrists and ankles that suggested she had been tied up, and part of her lower lip had been chewed off, presumably by Cassidy herself. Allison could scarcely imagine the kind of unspeakable prolonged suffering she must have endured, not to mention the kind of vile monster who could inflict such torture.

  And so she had hung up the phone and remained locked in her room. She ignored the incessant calls and texts from Kristen, from Aren, from Officer Jacobs. She could barely speak. All she wanted to do was vomit without end, as though she could somehow puke out all of the misery she was feeling and all of the evil that existed in the world. But the vomiting accomplished neither of those things. It just left her with a sore throat, bad breath, and an even greater sense of emptiness.

  But now, as she read Dominic’s email, she could almost feel the emptiness withering away. This was her golden ticket. This was the missing piece of the puzzle that could put an end to Dominic’s evil once and for all. For the first time in a week, she found herself smiling.

  “So what should I do?” Kristen asked. “If I don’t say something, he’ll keep contacting me.”

  Allison turned to her niece. “Tell him you’ll be there,” she said.

  Kristen’s eyes widened. “But…”

  Allison shot to her feet and rushed to the kitchen counter to grab her phone. “Relax. You’re not actually going to be there. You’re going to remain safely at home. I’m going to be there. With my friend, Officer Jacobs.”

  Allison scrolled through the contacts on her iPhone and tapped Officer Jacobs’ cell number. She took a seat beside Kristen on the couch and listened through three rings. Finally, there was a click.

  “Yeah,” said a gruff, deep voice on the other end of the line.

  “Hey, Officer Jacobs. It’s Allison.”

  “Oh hey,” he said with minimal enthusiasm. “You know, you can call me Mike.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Listen. Did you ever find proof of who owns that house?”

  “Nah. I don’t think so.”

  “Well, I’ve got more than that.” She went on to explain Kristen’s role in the situation and read the entire email exchange over the phone. “That’s gotta be everything you need to at least arrest him, right?” Allison asked finally.

  “Okay, slow your roll. It’s not as simple as all that. We still don’t have a shred of evidence that a crime even took place in that house.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Allison shrieked. “You saw the text that Cassidy sent me before she died, and now we have an email from Dominic confirming that he owns that address.”

  “I understand that,” Officer Jacobs said calmly, “and that’s really good circumstantial evidence, but we still have a lot to prove and I don’t want you to get too excited just yet. Just tell me what time he’s supposed to meet your niece there, and I’ll be waiting. The minute he shows up, I take his ass in for questioning. Then we go from there.”

  “I want to be there with you!” Allison said. “I have some questions I’d like to ask him myself.”

  “Or how about you stay home and let the police do the police work? You know I always keep you in the loop. Just chill. I won’t let him slip away.”

  “Fine,” Allison said with a sigh. “He’s expecting Kristen to be there at seven. Promise me you’ll call me as soon as you know something.”

  “I will let you know,” he said.

  “Thanks,” Allison said. Then she ended the call.

  “You’re going to that house anyway, aren’t you?” Kristen asked.

  “Of course I am,” Allison replied.

  22

  It was about a forty-five-minute drive from Allison’s apartment to her mother’s house in North Las Vegas. The longest and most frustrating part of the commute was traveling westbound on Flamingo past the Vegas Strip, huddled among the innumerable throngs of cars attempting to navigate the chaos near Flamingo and Las Vegas Boulevard. Once she was free from that automotive melee, it was a simple drive northbound on the i-15 and Highway 95.

  For the initial traffic-heavy portion of the commute, Allison and Kristen remained silent. Allison’s mind was racing with thoughts of Dominic being dragged out of that house in handcuffs and stuffed ever so aggressively into the back of a squad car, never to taste freedom again. Kristen, for her part, sat quietly and stared out the window, apparently in deep thought.

  Las Vegas Boulevard did not disappoint. The intersection was littered with bumper-to-bumper traffic and hordes of pedestrians in various states of intoxication. As they waited at the stoplight for the third straight cycle, Allison looked to her left and observed the crowds in front of Bally’s Las Vegas, a towering blue and white resort which had recently undergone extensive renovations with the addition of a massive outdoor shopping distric
t in front of the building.

  To her right was the Cromwell, a smaller but nevertheless luxurious property that was especially popular with the young club crowd. Soaring sky-bound from behind the Cromwell was the High Roller, the world’s tallest observation wheel.

  When the light finally turned green, Allison gunned it past the two resorts, crossed the wide intersection, and glanced at the opulent towers of Caesars Palace while coasting toward the i-15 onramp. She was trying to remember the last time she had actually visited the Strip, navigated its endless corridors, inhaled its many purposeful—and in some cases, not so purposeful—aromas, consumed its absurdly sized frozen daiquiris. It had been a long time. Like many locals, she found the Strip to be far more exhausting than exciting.

  “Thank you for driving me home,” Kristen said as Allison turned onto the freeway.

  “Yeah, no worries,” Allison replied. “Actually, I was thinking, maybe you’d want to grab some things and hang out with me for a few days. I mean, I’ve got the spare room, and I’d just feel a little better if I could keep an eye on you, just until Dominic is safely in jail. It’s just, he has your address now, and I think I’d sleep a little better at night if you hung out with me for a little bit.”

  Kristen looked over at her aunt, concerned. “Do you think he’ll try to come after me?”

  “No. I don’t think he will. By the time he realizes what happened, he’ll already be in jail. This is just to be on the safe side.”

  “Are you sure he’ll be in jail and won’t be able to come after me?”

  Allison clutched her steering wheel tightly with both hands. She knew the answer to that question was no. Dominic had evaded prosecution so many times before, there was no telling what might happen. But this was their only shot at taking him down, their only chance to ensure justice for Cassidy and Cindy and all of his other victims.

  “You’ll be safe at my apartment,” Allison said finally. “He wouldn’t know to find you there, and it has a gate and really good security.”

  “Aunt Allison, your apartment building is really easy to get into. I do it all the time.”

  Allison couldn’t argue with that.

  She turned to Kristen and said, “Look at me.” She waited for Kristen to look over. “Your mom made me your godmother because she trusted me, and most people would agree that I’m just about the worst person in the world to trust. I’ve spent my whole life conning people, neglecting people, and not really giving a shit about anybody but myself. But I am dead fucking serious when I say that I am not going to let anything happen to you. I swear this on my life, Kristen. Do you understand?”

  Kristen nodded and met Allison’s gaze with a warm smile.

  When they reached the house, Kristen filled a suitcase with clothes, books, and other assorted belongings while Allison begrudgingly explained the whole situation to her mother and advised her to stay in a hotel for a few days. “Just until he’s safely behind bars.”

  “I don’t need a hotel,” Janet Lockwood replied, leaning back in her kitchen chair. “I got my buddies Smith & Wesson keeping me safe. Anyone tries anything with me, and I’ll give ‘em eight to ten rounds of Second Amendment freedom.”

  Sitting across from her mother at the table, Allison shook her head. Though the two women differed heavily on politics, Allison couldn’t deny that she was just like her mother to a troubling degree.

  “Kristen likes to read for a half hour before bed,” Janet said after an extended silence. “If you try to give her dinner before six-thirty, she’ll just eat a few bites and complain she’s not hungry. She’s pretty tolerant of bad language, but she gets real upset when you use the Lord’s name in vain.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Allison muttered.

  “If she has her own way, she’ll try to eat sugary cereals for breakfast every morning. I’ve been trying to get her in the habit of eating regular Cheerios, because at least they’re not as bad as that god-awful cookie cereal, and she seems to like the Cheerios well enough. You can take the box that’s in the pantry. If you keep the air conditioner below seventy-five, she’s too cold. Keep it above seventy-seven, and she’ll complain that the house feels like a furnace. She never misses The Voice on TV, and—”

  “Mom,” Allison interrupted, “you know this is just for a few days, right?”

  “Yes, of course, Dear. Now, if she has caffeine after three o’clock, don’t expect her to fall asleep at any reasonable hour.”

  She continued to recite from the Kristen User Manual for about another five minutes, but Allison ultimately tuned it out. She was just beginning to realize that this arrangement may in fact be permanent, and she wondered if she was ready. She loved Kristen, but she cowered at the thought of being responsible for another human life. After all, she could barely keep her own life together. Still, she had made a promise to her niece and intended to keep it. Dominic Maffiore’s days were numbered, and on Tuesday evening, all would be made right.

  23

  Tuesday night. The sky outside was already fading to dark, and Aunt Allison was gone.

  Kristen sat on the sofa in Aunt Allison’s living room...her living room. Or was it? She still wasn’t sure. All she knew for certain was that she now had a bedroom, a shelf in the pantry, and keys to both the apartment and the mailbox.

  Her heart was pounding, and she knew exactly why. There were only twenty minutes until seven o’clock. This was about the time at which she should have been arriving at Dominic’s home in Henderson, indulging in snacks and mingling with the other guests while waiting for the exorcist to make one of his famous grand entrances.

  But she was not on her way to Dominic’s home as promised. She was in Aunt Allison’s apartment, alone for the first time in days, watching a syndicated rerun of The Big Bang Theory and praying for Aunt Allison’s safety as the intrepid woman drove out to Dominic’s house with the magician Aren Anzalone. “Please God,” she prayed, “don’t let anything bad happen to her.”

  The lock and deadbolt were both secured on the front door. The night security guard was patrolling the building. The front gate was closed to anyone without the authorization to enter.

  Still, Kristen felt scared and vulnerable. She desperately wanted the night to be over.

  At 6:42, her phone rang. The sudden, unexpected sound nearly caused her to fall to the floor. The sound, though, wasn’t nearly as terrifying as the name that appeared on the screen: Dominic Maffiore.

  Kristen trembled as she gripped the phone in both hands and contemplated what to do next. The last thing she wanted to do was accept the call, but she feared that Aunt Allison might be in trouble. What if he had figured out that he had been set up? He might be holding her or worse.

  Shaking and sweating uncontrollably, she accepted the call and raised the phone to her ear. “H-hello?” She swallowed loudly.

  “Hi Kristen,” Dominic said on the other line, his voice as warm and cordial as it had ever been. “I just wanted to check in and see if you’re still planning to join us tonight. I’m printing out some of the teaching materials right now, and I need to know how many copies to make.”

  Kristen was somewhat relieved but also uneasy. “I should be getting to the house pretty soon,” she said, ashamed of the lie but more fearful for her aunt’s safety. “I’ll see you then.”

  There was a pause.

  “What house?” Dominic asked. “What are you referring to?”

  “The house where you’re having the thing,” Kristen said, puzzled by the confusion in his voice.

  “You mean tonight’s teaching? It’s at the church as it always is. I’m not sure what house you mean.”

  Kristen slowly rose to her feet, still trembling. “In your email,” she muttered. “You said that we couldn’t do it at the church because they were making a movie or something.”

  Another pause.

  “No, I never said any such thing,” Dominic said. “Are you sure you’re not confusing it with a different email conversation?”


  “Maybe,” Kristen whispered.

  Dominic continued to speak, but Kristen didn’t catch a word of it. She lowered the phone to chest level, ended the call, and began to panic. A million thoughts swirled through her brain. If Dominic hadn’t sent that message, who had? More importantly, what kind of trap was Aunt Allison walking into?

  “Aunt Allison…” Kristen shrieked aloud, terrified at what might be happening at this very moment.

  She raised her phone and clumsily thumbed through her contacts until Aunt Allison’s name appeared on the screen. She tapped the name and raised the phone to her ear, her heart pounding. Please be okay. Please be okay.

  Within a few seconds, she heard the first ring. Almost immediately thereafter, she was startled by the sound of music coming from the kitchen just a few feet away. It was the chorus of some old Ramones song, and it was coming from Aunt Allison’s phone—which was on the kitchen counter. Aunt Allison and Aren had left in a hurry, so she must have left it behind.

  Kristen rushed over to the phone. “No, no, no.”

  She picked up her aunt’s phone and tapped the Home button. Thankfully, there was no passcode preventing her from gaining access. She proceeded to the contacts and searched for the name “Aaron Anzalone,” but nothing came up.

  She tossed the phone back on the counter and used her own phone to dial 911.

  “Nine-one-one emergency,” said a woman’s voice on the other end of the line.

  “My aunt’s in trouble,” Kristen shouted into the phone as she paced back and forth on the living room carpet.

  “Okay,” the voice replied calmly. “Are you with your aunt right now?”

  “No. She’s at…” Kristen lowered her phone to eye level and pulled up Dominic’s email message. “14621 Oasis Crossing. In Henderson.”

  “Okay,” the dispatcher replied, and Kristen could hear the sound of typing in the background. “Tell me what’s wrong? Is she in immediate danger?”