by L E Fraser
Nina cringed against the headboard of the bed. She’d never seen her husband violent before.
“Stop reading these damn books on Aboriginal myths,” he yelled. “You have fucking nightmares, Nina. That’s all they are. They aren’t prophecies.”
It took all of her courage, but she held his eyes. He rubbed the heel of his hand across his forehead, turned away, and stared out the window.
“I don’t speak Ojibway. How do I know those words?” she asked.
“Nina,” he said with a sigh, “we stopped at the Ojibway store on our way to the cabin. Remember? You and Gabriella looked at the picture of the dog sled. Please try to remember the picture.”
She did recall the picture. She didn’t understand what that had to do with anything.
“Beneath the picture,” Quentin said, “was a list of the dogs’ names. One was ‘Ganawenim’. I went back to the store and looked at the picture.”
Frustrated, she shook her head. “There wasn’t anything written on the picture we looked at. They must have put up a new one.”
With a heavy sigh, he continued. “We bought Gabriella a pair of beaded moccasins and you bought a book.”
“I didn’t buy a book. We bought the moccasins, they were in my purse.”
“You did buy a book.” He stomped to the door and grabbed the book he’d thrown, turning the cover so it faced her. “This book, actually.”
She’d asked the nurse to bring her a book on Ojibway myths, and the nurse gave her the book Quentin was holding. Feeling confused and angry, Nina tried to think back to the day they were in the store. She was certain she’d never seen the book before the nurse gave it to her. “We bought the moccasins. I remember helping Gabriella try them on.”
“And you bought this book.” He slapped it against the side of his leg.
Was his intent to confuse her? Her anger mounted. If she had bought a book, it would be in the cabin. “Where is this book you’re telling me I bought?”
“I can’t find it.”
“Because it never happened. I never bought it at all. I don’t know why you’re lying to everyone,” she screamed.
He walked to the bed and placed the book on the table. “Nina, you’re paranoid. Why would I lie? These dreams of a demonic spirit possessing a man who abducted our daughter are your subconscious. Don’t you see? You’ve manifested this fantasy. The doctors can help you, if you let them.”
She stared at him. His cheeks were hollow, and purple rings circled his eyes. She didn’t recognize him at all. She felt frightened and vulnerable, trapped in the hospital with everyone disbelieving her. “Why are you doing this?” she sobbed. “I’m not crazy. Why can’t you believe a mother could have a link to her child?”
Quentin leaned over and brushed hair from her forehead. “Gabriella is dead. She couldn’t survive in the wilderness for over a month.”
“She’s not dead.”
“Please, babe, you have to accept the truth. Let the doctors help you. Let me help you.” He held out his arms.
She refused to lean into his embrace. Her pain and suspicion was too deep to offer him support. She needed to hoard her strength to keep the link to Gabriella open. She couldn’t understand why he was trying to confuse her.
He dropped his arms. “We have to go home.” He walked to the door. “We are going home.”
CHAPTER SIX
Five months later: London, Ontario
Nina
NINA WASN’T SURE if she was dreaming. A bell kept ringing and ringing. The pills she took every night usually stopped her from dreaming. Confused, she realized she heard pounding. The medication made it hard to focus. Was someone at the front door? She peered at the clock, wondering who would be at their door at three o’clock in the morning.
“Quentin?” She rolled over but her husband wasn’t in bed. Nina strained to see through the shadows and blinked when the bedroom light turned on.
“Stay here,” Quentin said, tugging his jeans over his hips.
“What is it? What’s going on?” She sat up, throwing back the covers and grabbing her housecoat from the foot of the bed.
“Nina, stay here. Someone’s at the door.”
Right, as if she was going to stay in the bedroom alone. From across the hall, Isabella was crying, wailing really.
Nina reached the hallway and saw Quentin jog down the stairs two at a time. The person outside their house was leaning against the doorbell while pounding on the door.
She ran into the baby’s room, scooped the terrified child into her arms, and dashed down the stairs to peek around the corner. Detective McNamara, their neighbour, was speaking rapidly to Quentin. Something must have happened.
“I can take you,” Colin said. “Get Nina and—”
She ran to the door. “Colin? What’s going on, what’s wrong?” Isabella’s wails were reducing to small hiccups against her shoulder.
“They found her,” Quentin said. His hair was sticking up at the back of his head and all the colour had leached from his face. “They found Gabriella.”
She swayed against the wall, and Colin grabbed her arm and led her to a chair. “You remember I was the London detective assigned to the case when you came home last summer. The FBI identified her yesterday and contacted the RCMP. Gabriella’s at the Children’s Hospital in Detroit. I just got the call.”
“Is she okay? I don’t understand. She’s in the US. What happened? Please, Colin, is she okay?”
He crouched so they were eye level. “She’s alive and in stable condition. Ice fishermen found her walking alone on the Michigan side of Lake Superior. I don’t have any more details.”
Nina watched Quentin stuffing a diaper bag with bottles from the fridge and jars of baby food from the pantry. She couldn’t move. Get up. Get moving, she screamed to herself, but her legs felt like jelly. She was afraid she’d drop Isabella if she tried to stand.
“Quentin, take a minute, please,” Colin said. “Let’s figure out the best way to get you to Detroit. I can drive you myself, or I can ask an officer to take you in a cruiser.”
Now she could move. Her legs were quivering with the need to move. She leaped to her feet, ran upstairs, and placed Isabella on the changing table. Her fingers trembled while she changed the diaper and bundled the baby into a snowsuit. She couldn’t think. She just did. Her daughter was alive. Gabriella needed her. She had to get to her.
Nina threw on her clothes and returned to find Quentin wearing his coat and boots and arguing with Colin.
“It’s snowing, the roads aren’t great, and you’re not thinking straight. Quentin, I can smell liquor on your breath. Let me take you.”
“Get out of my way.” Quentin shoved the detective aside. “Nina, get your coat. I’ll warm up the car.”
“Listen to me,” Colin begged but her husband was gone.
Nina struggled to pull on her winter boots and do up the buttons on her coat. Where was the car seat? Had she left it upstairs? No. She’d left it in the car with the stroller after shopping the day before.
“Nina, Quentin shouldn’t be driving,” Colin said.
She was at the door, Isabella squirming in her arms, when she realized she didn’t have her purse. She didn’t have her pills. She thrust Isabella into Colin’s arms and ran upstairs. He was calling after her, but Nina couldn’t hear him and didn’t care. She grabbed her purse, tossed her pill bottles in, and raced back.
She scooped Isabella from Colin and lurched out the door. As she stumbled down the snow-covered walkway to the car, three words kept screaming in her mind.
Gabriella is alive.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Detroit, Michigan
Nina
“MR. AND MRS. LeBlanc, you should prepare yourselves before you see your daughter.” The RCMP officer led them down the hall of the Children’s Hospital of Michigan.
Because they were Canadian, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police was involved, along with the Michigan State Police who had found Gab
riella and the FBI. The male US authorities acted happy to leave the female RCMP officer to deal with the parents.
“We were told Gabriella’s okay.” Nina was jogging a bit to keep up, while manoeuvring the stroller around patients, visitors, and staff.
The pretty, young woman stopped at the elevators and held the doors open for Nina and Quentin. “Well, there are things you need to know.” She pressed the button for the seventh floor. The doors slid closed and the elevator jerked upward.
Nina plucked her six-month-old daughter from the stroller and held her tight. “I don’t remember your name.” It felt important to know the woman’s name before hearing what she was dreading.
The elevator stopped and the officer ushered them out. They stood together in the hallway, and Nina bounced and soothed Isabella.
“It’s Laura.” Her eyes were warm. “Mr. and Mrs. LeBlanc, your daughter went to a bob-house. Do you know what that is?”
“Of course we do. It’s a shack that’s dragged onto the lake for ice fishing.” Quentin’s tone was rude. He was exhausted and, lately, always impatient. Worse, Nina suspected he was hungover again.
Laura ignored him, addressing Nina. “She was with a dog, and she’s very attached to it.”
Nina wasn’t sure why this was important, and said so.
“Well, she can’t be separated from the animal. The child psychiatrist will provide you with more details on her mental state.”
“What are you talking about?” Quentin asked. “We’re in a hospital. Obviously the dog isn’t—”
“We can take the dog,” Nina interrupted.
Laura nodded. “I hoped you’d agree and took the liberty of involving a vet to expedite transport into Canada. I’ll provide you with formal documents for the border.”
Quentin threw his hands up. “No one cares about the dog. Did you catch the asshole who took her? Did you do anything constructive since you found her five days ago?”
Laura started walking and gestured for them to follow. “Yes, Mr. LeBlanc, we know who took her.”
“Where is the motherfucker?” Quentin clenched his hands into fists, making the muscles in his arms bulge.
Laura stopped outside an office door and faced them. “Mr. LeBlanc, calm down.”
“I will not calm down. You’re going to take me to the fucker who stole my daughter.”
“Quentin, I need to hear what Laura has to say,” Nina said.
“Well, I don’t. All I want to know is if you arrested the son of a bitch.”
“An arrest wasn’t possible,” Laura said, entering the office and closing the door behind them. “The man is dead.”
Quentin leaned against the wall. “That’s the best news you’ve given us since we arrived.”
“How?” Nina asked, even though she didn’t want to hear the answer.
“We found him in a cabin in the woods where he lived with your daughter and the dog.”
Quentin was in Laura’s face in an instant. “He did not live with her. He kidnapped her. He was holding her prisoner. They weren’t living together.”
“Mr. LeBlanc, step back. Both of you please sit.”
“Quentin,” Nina tugged his arm and pushed him into a chair, “don’t you want to know what happened?” She took the chair beside him, shifted Isabella to her knee, and held her husband’s hand.
He glared at her. When she refused to drop her eyes, he reached for the baby. She handed over the warm, solid bundle and her arms ached with loss. Quentin leaned down and fumbled in the diaper bag by her feet. Two fat tears splashed onto the vinyl of the bag when he pulled out a bottle of milk.
“There was a pink cage in the corner of the cabin with a snow white bed inside.” Laura’s voice was gentle and kind. “The man was on the bed. His skull was fractured.”
Nina held her breath.
“He may have fallen, or…” Laura swallowed. “We think he opened the cage door and lay on the bed where he subsequently died from his injuries. After she…” Laura licked her lips. “After he died, Gabriella left the cage and the cabin. Until the post-mortem is in or your daughter talks to us, we don’t know anything else.”
Did they think Gabriella killed him? What would the authorities do when they had the autopsy results? The monster abducted her. It didn’t matter how she escaped. Nina took a calming breath, but her heartbeat stayed rapid and her stomach fluttered in panic.
During the drive to Detroit, she’d tried to visualize the future. Would Gabriella be the same child they’d lost? She had so many questions, and her desperate fear that she wasn’t strong enough to cope felt crippling.
The office door opened, and the child psychiatrist they had met when they arrived marched to his desk. Nina had instantly disliked him and couldn’t remember his name. She ignored him and directed her most important question to Laura. “Did he sexually assault my daughter?”
Laura glanced at the doctor, who nodded and waved his hand, indicating she could proceed.
Nina didn’t need to hear the answer. Tears flooded her eyes.
Laura exhaled slowly. “I’m so sorry.”
Nina could picture the pink cage and snow white bed. She could picture a monstrous, naked man looming over her tiny daughter. She shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut to block out the horrific vision.
Quentin was sobbing, and Isabella was crying along with him.
“Listen, I know there is no bright side to this.” Laura took her hands. “But Gabriella won’t have to suffer through a trial. She’s alive. She’s a beautiful, physically healthy child.”
Physically healthy. The implication made her head spin. She couldn’t do this. She didn’t possess the skills to deal. Panic crawled across her stomach, and she gagged on the bile rising in her throat.
“Injuries?” she managed to whisper.
The doctor cleared his throat. “There are sections of flesh missing from Gabriella’s inner thighs, buttocks, and lower back. She will have scars.”
Nina swayed on the chair. She couldn’t breathe and black dots bounced in front of her eyes. Laura gripped her hand until the pressure was painful. The black dots dispersed.
“Mrs. LeBlanc,” the doctor said, “the wounds healed without infection. Plastic surgery will help.”
“Wendigo,” Nina hissed. “I told you, Quentin, it was An Da Shealladh. I saw him eating flesh. Now do you believe?”
Quentin’s face paled. He tightened his grip on the baby, and Isabella squirmed and whimpered in his arms.
“What does that mean?” Laura asked.
“It’s Gaelic and it’s nonsense,” Quentin said. “After Isabella was born, my wife went through a difficult time.”
“My grandmother was a Scot Highlander,” she told Laura. “An Da Shealladh means the ‘two sights’. It’s hereditary, passed from mother to daughter. I knew my daughter was alive because I saw her in my dreams. No one believed me.”
“Nina, don’t dredge this up again,” Quentin said sternly.
She ignored him and spoke to Laura. “Cannibalism is believed by the Ojibway to cause possession by a powerful evil spirit, Wendigo. I know there’s no such thing as a Wendigo but there are sick people who believe if they eat flesh, they’ll attract this demon.”
Laura looked skeptical. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about Aboriginal or Gaelic folklore. I don’t understand what makes you think cannibalism was involved.”
Nina leaned forward in her chair. “The Ojibway believe you can see Wendigo in dreams. An Da Shealladh warns you in dreams. Don’t you see? That’s how they’re connected.” She turned to her husband. “Quentin, why else would I associate Wendigo with Gabriella?”
“Please, this isn’t the time,” Quentin said with a sigh. “You were sick. You had bad dreams. You read too many books on legends. Leave it alone.”
She turned back to Laura. “The man, he was Native, wasn’t he?”
Laura dropped her hands. “No, Nina, he wasn’t. We’ve identified him.”
�
��What about the cabin? Did you find anything relating to the culture?”
Laura shook her head. “No. The dog’s name, I suppose. But I understand it’s a popular name for dogs.”
“What is the dog’s name?” Nina asked.
“According to your daughter, it’s Ganawenim. She calls him Gana. It means protector.”
“I know what it means.” Nina spun toward Quentin. “Explain how I knew that word when you found me in the cabin?”
Quentin refused to look at her.
“Nina,” Laura said, “I understand how difficult this must be.” She cleared her throat and stood. “The doctor would like to speak with you, so I’ll wait outside.” She left the office and gently latched the door.
Nina took Isabella from Quentin and hugged the baby against her shoulder. She hadn’t seen that word at the Ojibway store on the way to the cabin. She didn’t read it in a book until after her daughter disappeared. How would she know the word ganawenim? It wasn’t a coincidence. It was An Da Shealladh. She was not crazy. Why would no one believe her? Her eyes filled with tears, and she dug in her pocket for a tissue.
“My first recommendation,” the doctor spoke to Quentin, “is for the dog to stay with Gabriella.”
“Where is the dog?” Nina asked.
“With your daughter,” he replied.
Quentin frowned. “In the hospital?”
“Under the circumstances, it was necessary to make an exception.”
Nina studied her husband. “There are shots.”
He pounced on her comment. “Exactly my point. Obviously, a child-stealing maniac wasn’t concerned about inoculating the animal against disease. It’s preposterous that the dirty dog is in the company of my traumatized daughter.”
“For you,” Nina said. “You can take allergy shots.”
Quentin’s mouth gaped. “You’ve got to be kidding. We are not keeping a lunatic’s dog.”
“Haven’t you been listening? We have to keep it for Gabriella’s sake.”
“I’m afraid I have to side with your wife,” the doctor said. “Professionally,” the word rolled off his self-important tongue like honey, “it’s for the best to facilitate healing.” He took a piece of paper from his desk. “I’m prepared to discharge your daughter this afternoon. You may take her home.”