Resnick and Garvey stole it, along with her wedding and class rings, and probably sold them for drug money.
We eventually made it back to Norfolk and I carried her across the threshold of my apartment. We didn’t leave again for a week except to get something to eat.
I was interviewed at RCA and started my job a week later. I worked from 7:30 until 4:00 Monday through Friday. It wasn’t too bad of a job to begin with but once we finished what we were working on they told me they didn’t need me anymore. I was shocked and angry but Dad told me they would switch me to a security guard position if I wanted. I’d just have to work 4:00 until midnight.
I went home and talked about it with Miranda. She had found a job tutoring at the college in the evenings and said we could have the whole day together and be together at night. So I began “walking a beat” in Building 1268 at NASA. At the time it housed the Flight Simulation Facilities, the Air Traffic Operations Lab and the Data Reduction Center. It was a huge building, three stories and a basement. It took me just under an hour to walk my tour. It was boring and more than a little spooky in that basement. But it was a job and it paid well. With benefits.
I worked that job all through Miranda’s senior year and when she graduated we celebrated with a weekend on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. We visited the Wright Brothers Memorial and the Hatteras Lighthouse. We drove down to Roanoke Island and explored the Lost Colony and the North Carolina Aquarium. We ate tons of seafood and laid out on the beach and played in the surf.
Miranda had never been to the Outer Banks since she was a West Virginia girl but I had plenty of times when I was a kid. My parents used to take my sister and I camping all the time. I remember one time at Easter we were camping near Hatteras. Easter morning we woke up expecting to see baskets from the “Easter Bunny”. Instead my mom had to confess that she had forgotten everything at home and promised to give it to us as soon as we got home. By then everyone had forgotten about it and she found it the next Halloween.
I’ll never forget Miranda laughing at that story until she had tears in her eyes. Her own childhood hadn’t been very happy. Her father was an executive with a coal mining company and had put in a lot of hours. When he was home he didn’t pay much attention to her. She told me that she thought he was disappointed because he had wanted a boy. He was always off hunting or fishing or helping a “buddy” when he wasn’t working. I felt bad for her and determined to make the rest of her days happy. I’d had done pretty well up until the day she was killed.
My mind flashed back to the road and I continued to drive. I searched for a radio station and finally settled on talk radio. Rush Limbaugh was on. I half listened as I drove and I thought about where I was. Not literally but where I was in this mess I had started.
I had felt like it had been a noble and honorable crusade. But all it turned out to be was a murderous spree. I was a killer on the run. Well, not really. I wasn’t on the run because no one knew what I did and no one was chasing me. Should I continue on or just give up right now, pray for forgiveness and look over my shoulder the rest of my life?
I didn’t think anyone would ever find out about Daryl Resnick. Oh, his cousin might talk someday but what would he say? Some state cop named Michael Force had arrested his cousin? They wouldn’t know where to start looking for Officer Force. I’m sure Resnick’s cousin hadn’t gotten a good look at me. And I was fairly certain he was stoned at the time. He was probably wondering where his cousin had gone to and wasn’t even sure I’d been there.
It was evident that no one had been back to the cabin at Hawk’s Nest for years and I couldn’t imagine that anyone would go back there snooping around now. Maybe someone hunted back there in the fall or winter but would they go looking for a grave? Of course not! Would the wind blow the leaves around and uncover the grave? Probably not. In fact when fall came more leaves would drop on it. I had buried him deep. Deep enough so animals wouldn’t be attracted to the scent and dig him up.
So what was the problem? Other than the fact that I had killed another human being absolutely nothing at all!
I slammed my hands on the steering wheel and the Tahoe swerved. I corrected and held onto the wheel tight. My knuckles were turning white and I was holding my breath. I let it out and loosened my grip and tried to calm down. I looked around to get my bearings because I wasn’t even sure where I was.
I was coming up on the overpass at Mercury Boulevard so I wasn’t far from Norfolk. Hopefully the HRBT wouldn’t be backed up. But it was the end of the weekend so I wasn’t too hopeful.
There are signs along the way that have traffic updates and all it said was “HRBT, 4 miles, 6 minutes.” That was good news. People have been complaining about the Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel for years. It runs between Hampton and Norfolk and the original two-lane tunnel was built in 1957. They added a second tunnel in 1976. Traffic still backed up so they built the Monitor-Merrimac Tunnel in 1992 which runs from Newport News to Suffolk. No matter which tunnel though as soon as people reach the entrance to the tunnel they start hitting their brakes and traffic goes from 55 mph to 35 or 40. It’s like they’re scared of going in it.
When I got there it was no different and I cursed both the designers of the tunnel and the drivers around me. Once we got to the other side of the tunnel and were on the bridge traffic opened back up and by the time we were to Willoughby Spit we were doing the speed limit (Or in my case over the speed limit.) again.
I got off on the Granby Street exit and followed it down into Ghent. That was our, my, neighborhood. It’s an old part of the city that was pretty affluent in the late 19th century. It had been trying to make a comeback for years and it was slowly getting there.
I parked the Tahoe in the garage, closed the door and unlocked the kitchen door. It was quiet and depressing. I still expected Miranda to greet me with a smile and a kiss but that was never going to happen again. I walked into the living room and sat on the loveseat. How many times had we sat there, snuggled up and watched TV, listened to music or just talked? I couldn’t sit there anymore.
I got up and moved across the room and sat on a chair and stared out the window. What the hell was I going to do now? I finally got up and pulled a frozen pizza out of the freezer and cooked it in the microwave. I chewed it without tasting it and chased it down with ice water. Which I hated and never drank.
Was I trying to change my life because Miranda wasn’t here? I shrugged my shoulders. I sat and thought about my last birthday as we sat at this table.
“Baby, will you run some errands for me?” She asked.
“Um, sure. You don’t want to go?” We always ran errands and did shopping together.
“No, I need to do some things here and I’d appreciate it if you’d do it alone.” She handed me a list. Two of the stops were in Virginia Beach!
“Really? You want me to run all over the Southside on my birthday? Can’t this wait until another day? I just want to be here with you.”
She batted her eye lashes at me and said, “Puhleaseeeee?”
“Fine.” I said and grabbed my jacket. I kissed her and said, “I love you” and walked out the door. I took her car because it was newer and I never got to drive it.
It took me two hours to get everything done. I had to wait at the drugstore to get her prescription filled, drive out to the New Balance shoe outlet to pick up a pair of trainers she had ordered and a bunch of other stops.
By the time I got home I was tired and pissed. But when I opened the door it all melted away. She stood before me in tight jeans, a t-shirt, no bra and of course she was shoeless. She was from West Virginia after all and they never wear shoes.
She wrapped her arms around me and gave me a deep, passionate kiss and then grabbed me by the hand and pulled me into the dining room. The table was set with our “company” china and silverware and it was piled with food; fried chicken, mashed potatoes with her special lumpy gravy, fresh green beans and corn on the cob. There was a bottle of wine co
oling on some ice (We seldom drank, just on special occasions.) and at the very end of the table was a homemade lemon meringue pie.
“I wanted to do something special for your thirtieth birthday.”
It was a night I’d never forget.
I sat there and cried. It was the first time since Miranda’s death. Not even at her funeral had I shed a tear. Her parents wanted her buried in West Virginia but we decided we wanted to be cremated and our ashes mixed when we both were gone. We had assumed we’d have children to take care of that for us. That was never going to happen either.
Her ashes were in a urn sitting about the fireplace. I touched it as I walked past to the bedroom and whispered, “I love you, baby.”
I slept fitfully that night.
The next morning I called in to work and told them I was ready to come back. I had taken a few days off to take of things. They understood and my boss, Danny, asked me if I was sure I was ready to come back. I said I was and he told me he’d see me in the morning.
I was now working at one of the Navy bases in Norfolk. It paid very well, had excellent benefits and Miranda and I had the same days off. I was an investigator now and not a night watchman. I had my own desk and everything.
The guys were glad to see me and shook my hand and slapped me on the back. No one mentioned Miranda and I was glad of that. Since my crying fit last night it felt like I could barely keep my emotions in check.
Danny and I went off to investigate a backyard theft on base housing.
“So, how are you really doing, Don?”
“I’m okay.”
“I said really. I want to know. I’m not just your boss, I’m your friend.”
I assured him I was fine and said I just wanted to get back to work and get on with my life. He nodded like he understood. Well, at least one of us did.
I was so tempted several times to tell him about Resnick but I kept my mouth shut. We made small talk, interviewed the Navy wife, made a list of what was stolen and headed back to the office.
Once there I filled out a report that would go to the MP’s and by then it was the end of the day. I didn’t want to go home so I decided to have dinner at Pollard’s Fried Chicken. It was good but not as good as Miranda’s. I felt like crying again.
After that I drove around Norfolk for a while until it felt pointless and went on home. I had forgotten to leave any lights on so the place was dark. I opened the door and went in without turning the lights on. The only light in the room came through the window from the street lights.
I walked across the room to our loveseat, pulled my shoes off, leaned back and promptly fell asleep. I woke up when the sun came through the window and across my face.
I jumped up. Took a quick shower and went to work. The days began to creep by but I never felt any better. Resnick and Garvey were still on my mind and the house no longer felt like home.
Chapter 3
On the way to work the next day I heard a commercial for a realty company. I called them as soon as I got to work and we agreed to meet the next day after I got off work.
The days and nights went by slowly with no excitement at all. One day someone in the office said, “It’s boring in here, I wish we’d get a good old fashioned unsolved murder. Maybe somebody could find a shallow grave out in the woods.”
Everyone laughed. Except me, I felt my face get hot.
When I met with the real estate agent she asked me where I was going next. Actually I hadn’t thought about that. Once the house sold I’d be out on the street. A homeless killer didn’t really work for me. So we talked about options and I told her I wanted to move back to the Peninsula. I was hoping to move to York County. I think Yorktown was really down there where the battlefields and colonial houses are. Right there where the Revolutionary War was won. Boy that stuff had been drilled into our heads when we were kids.
She left after she told me she’d call me as soon as she found something. I walked her to the door and watched her walk away. She was an attractive woman but I just wasn’t interested. No one would ever measure up to Miranda. I’d never be able to replace her. I guess I’d be alone for the rest of my life. I honestly hoped it wouldn’t last too long. The sooner I died the sooner I could be with my bride again.
I went to bed without eating dinner and cried myself to sleep. The tears were coming easy these days. I hope I wasn’t becoming weak and worthless. Maybe I needed some counseling. That might not hurt.
The days and nights rolled into one long event. It was sun up, sun down, day in, day out, sunshine and rain. Nothing changed, especially not me.
I began to think more and more about what I had done to Resnick. I had thought about it plenty of times but had never really dealt with it. Not to bring it to a conclusion anyway. This was not something I could talk to anyone about. I had to hold it all in and it was like an animal under my skin trying to claw its way out. Sometimes I felt like I was choking on the hate and other times I felt like the hate was enveloping me and choking the life out of me.
I had to come to terms with this somehow. I felt like I should pray. I felt like it was maybe the only option because I had no one to talk to. But would God listen to me? Would He forgive me? I don’t know if He would. After all I had broken one of the Ten Commandments. I don’t remember which one but I remember what it said, “Thou shall not murder.” It couldn’t be any clearer could it?
That night I spent some time on the internet trying to get an answer to that question. Some sites said I’d go to Hell if I broke any of the commandments even if I had been saved. Wow, harsh! But then other sites said that Jesus had died for our sins and we’d be forgiven. I thought I’d go with that one.
My parents brought me up in the Southern Baptist faith but it had been years since I had been to church. Miranda and I had never discussed going really. I know that because of her strict Independent Baptist upbringing she was very turned off by church. There had been so many restrictions on her that life was not the joyous experience that she though the Christian life should be.
So on Sunday mornings we’d sleep late, make love and go out to brunch. We were each other’s religion. She was my savior and I was hers, at least until she had gotten killed. Then I was no savior at all. I had let her down and I hated myself for it.
Was I going to Hell? I had been baptized when I was ten and had attended and been involved in church until I was twenty-two. I thought once you were baptized you went to Heaven no matter what. I thought Jesus died for all of our sins. It had been so long since I had been in church or read The Bible that I just didn’t know anymore. If nothing else I needed to be forgiven for my sins, especially killing Daryl Resnick.
But I still wanted Garvey dead so the hate was still there. Should I wait until I killed him and then ask for forgiveness? That seemed a little too convenient. If it worked that way then people could commit any crime they wanted, drop to their knees and be forgiven. By God that is. Man still has his laws and punishments.
I was confused and tired. I considered whether to pray or not while I walked down the hall to the bedroom. I changed clothes, brushed my teeth, pulled back the covers and crawled into bed. I stared up at the ceiling as I lay on my side of the bed. Her side was always empty. It would forever be so.
I closed my eyes and began to pray, “God? Are you there? It’s me Don. Do you remember me at all? I know it’s been a long time since we’ve talked but I’m in a hell, I mean heck, I’m sorry, of a mess. In case you didn’t know someone killed my wife, Miranda. There were two of them and I killed one of them and…”
I woke up in the morning. I had forgotten all about my prayer until later that day. I figured maybe God had quit listening and I had fallen asleep. Maybe I’d try it later.
The realtor called and said she found a place she thought I might like. It was a condominium in Grafton where I had grown up. My parents lived down the road in Dare which was part of Grafton. She asked if I’d like to go look at it and we agreed to meet there on Saturday
morning. When I got there the turn off was right across the street from the church I had grown up in. Maybe that was a sign.
I looked the place over and told her to make an offer on it. She said she’d let me know as soon as she heard something. I drove down to my parent’s house and had dinner with them. I had called them before I left Norfolk and told them I was coming over. My mom was happy when I told them I had made an offer on a place in Grafton. She said, “After all these years it’ll be good to have my boy close again.”
In my spare time I began to pack my belongings. I packed what I wanted to keep of Miranda’s. I called my mom and asked if she and my sister could come over while I was away and pack up Miranda’s things. They could take it to Goodwill or sell it, maybe have a yard sale. I just asked that they not keep any of it; I just didn’t want to see them anymore. Mom agreed and we made plans for the next weekend. I’d go somewhere for the weekend so I’d be out of their way.
The realtor had called and said the seller had agreed to my offer but it would be thirty days before I could move in. I agreed to that and piled my boxed belongs in the garage. I’d hire someone to move the boxes and furniture when the time came.
All of that packing was exhausting physically and emotionally. I kept coming across things that reminded me of Miranda. I had to decide whether to keep it or not and I had tears in my eyes more than once. I went into work exhausted every day not only from the physical labor I was doing while packing but from the emotional things I was going through.
I still hadn’t come to terms with what I had done. Would talking to anyone even help me? I bet if I told what I had done to a counselor he or she would be obligated by law to turn me in. So that wouldn’t work. What about a penpal on the internet? No, I think I’d be too paranoid it might be someone in law enforcement or somebody could track me down and begin to blackmail me.
Turnabout Is Fair Play Page 3
