Skully, Perdition Games

by L E Fraser

  Finally, Sam understood why the writing style in the diary troubled her so much. Gabriella didn’t write it. “Dissociative identity disorder,” she whispered.

  “Don’t lay that shit on me,” Quentin screamed. “Years of working with useless doctors after that pervert took her. They never saw what that thing was. My daughter never came back from that cabin. Wendigo came back.”

  “Was Gabriella’s personality inconsistent before her abduction?” Sam asked.

  “I’m telling you that thing wasn’t my daughter. The only emotion it had was rage.” He was crying in earnest.

  It made sense now. The alter personality emerged during her abduction, developing in that pink cage. It wasn’t uncommon for alter personalities to grow to overpower their host.

  “After Isabella died, when you first recognized the other…” she hunted for a word that wouldn’t set him off, “side of Gabriella, what did you do?”

  “My wife blamed herself for Gabriella’s abduction, and Nina’s guilt grew until it took over everything. She refused to speak of Isabella’s death or Gabriella’s behaviour. Gabriella was the only child she had left, and she couldn’t accept the idea of institutionalizing her.”

  “That’s why you left,” Sam said.

  “I left the woman I loved alone and sick with that thing. I’m a despicable coward and a drunk. Take down the postings or it will find me,” Quentin said. “An Da Shealladh passes from mother to daughter. It hunts for me in her dreams. I feel it crawling over my skin. I’m trapped on a skully board, and all that’s left is to run from the killer.”

  ‘Unhinged’ was an understatement. The man was insane. “What will find you?” Sam asked.

  “I’ve read the newspaper stories. That man did not kill Gabriella. She’s gone but it’s not dead. It did this.” His voice broke while he spoke.

  Sam forced herself to keep her voice calm and detached. “Where would she go, Mr. LeBlanc? Gabriella doesn’t have money or friends.”

  He laughed again, a hard, cold sound. “She has dollars. Nina’s grandmother left her a trust fund. After my wife died, Gabriella was able to access the money.”

  “No,” Sam said, “we’ve looked. Gabriella didn’t have any money.”

  “If you think it would be in her name, you’re a fool. If you think she told her family about it, you’re an idiot.” Quentin laughed. “But you’ll never find her. That thing will never let you have Gabriella.”

  “Mr. LeBlanc, where would she go?” Sam asked.

  “To hunt and to eat the flesh of human children,” he yelled. “To become what her abductor created. To be Wendigo.”

  He hung up and she put the phone in her pocket.

  “I caught most of that,” Reece said. “What the hell is Wendigo?”

  “It’s a native myth about an evil spirit. All bands that believe in the myth think humans turn into a Wendigo if they’re cannibals. They also believe a person can see Wendigo in dreams and can even become possessed by the demon in the dream,” she said.

  “That’s ridiculous,” he scoffed, “subject matter for horror fiction.”

  She shook her head. “No, the reason I know about the myth is that, in psychological terms, Wendigo psychosis is a condition describing a cultural disorder where the afflicted wants to eat flesh.”

  “What the hell is An Da Shealladh?”

  “No idea, he referenced Highlanders so it must be Gaelic.”

  Reece’s frown deepened. “You said dissociative identity disorder. Isn’t that so rare it’s considered malingering?”

  She nodded. “I studied it at Queen’s and again here in the PhD program. Doctors have confirmed less than three percent as legitimate cases. Reece, they’re often females. People diagnosed with it suffered terrible childhood trauma.”

  “Quentin said they took her to doctors. Why didn’t someone understand?” he asked.

  “DID is seldom diagnosed in young children,” she told him. “I doubt it was suggested about Gabriella in the 1980s. As an adult, I bet she refused to see a psychiatrist.”

  He nodded. “That’s right. A referral was in her medical records but she never followed up.”

  “People with DID rarely seek medical help.” Sam shrugged. “They believe they suffer strange dreams and blackouts when stressed. Many times, they’re accused of things they don’t recall doing, but they ignore it because it’s too confusing and frightening.”

  “Wouldn’t Derek or the kids notice?” Reece asked.

  “They did. Derek heard her talking in two voices in the kitchen. He assumed she was on the polycom with Isabella.”

  Reece swallowed hard. “People at work also noticed. That’s why Jack Belinski kept saying she was nuts.”

  “They didn’t know what they were seeing. I think Cataleya Sousa suspected, but she didn’t outright say so.”

  Cataleya had come close, Sam realized. She’d cited examples of Gabriella appearing to be two people, but Sam hadn’t made the connection. She recalled the intense way Cataleya had looked at her during the interview. She hadn’t had the courage to make such an outlandish suggestion.

  Reece folded his hands between his knees. “Both Jack and Julie told me Gabriella would mumble something under her breath and act crazy.”

  “Breathe, it’s just your life,” Sam whispered.

  “What?”

  “That’s what she said in the kitchen at dinner in June. Then, her alter — it must be — told me about Derek’s affair. The phrase must be a mantra Gabriella says when she’s uncomfortable or upset.”

  They sat in silence, and Sam thought about the events in the kitchen. She’d met Gabriella’s second personality. Something occurred to her. Just before the switch, Gana had whined and pulled at Gabriella’s skirt. “Shit,” Sam whispered.

  Reece looked up. “What?”

  “That’s why I kept saying the dog was like a service animal,” she said. “People who suffer from epilepsy often have service animals because dogs can sense a seizure coming. The dog warns its owner, so the person can find a safe place.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Dogs sense a great deal. Domestic dogs can smell cancer. There’s plenty of documented evidence of it. I believe Gana ‘knew’ about his mistress’s dual personalities. He tried to warn Gabriella before the alter personality emerged.”

  Reece looked across the lake. “This is unbelievable but it makes sense. When I interviewed Jack and Julie,” Reece said, “Julie told me at times the math side of Gabriella’s duties was well executed and the English was a train wreck. Other times, the opposite was true.”

  “Gabriella studied biochemistry. I bet the other personality was creative. That also explains why Gabriella showed up for work the morning after her termination,” she said.

  “They didn’t fire Gabriella. They fired her alter. Sam, can we prove this? You taped the call just now, right? Will the tape be sufficient if we call witnesses who saw the second personality? Quentin said the family did deal with doctors. We might be able to track down a doctor in London who treated her.”

  Standing, she took Brandy’s leash from Reece. “We need to talk to Jim. Producing the tape at this point in the trial might be worse. It’s hard to believe Derek didn’t suspect something. He’s self-involved, but he’s not stupid.”

  “It provides a strong motive.” Reece frowned. “Can you imagine Gabriella switching in the middle of a political gathering with press in attendance?”

  “The money Quentin told us about is the key to proving she’s alive. Now we know it originated with Nina’s grandmother, we can trace it. Gabriella wouldn’t be able to set up anything to remove her name from the money until after her mother’s death in 1993.”

  “I have a friend with the OPP, a forensic financial analyst. I can call him for advice,” Reece suggested.

  “Good, do that. We need to get Jim up to speed. I’ll call and have him meet us at his office.”

  After calling Jim at home and asking him to meet them
in an hour, they hurried back to the loft to drop off Brandy.

  “If we can find the money,” Reece said when they turned onto Queen Street, “it may be enough to prove Gabriella’s still alive.”

  “If not,” Sam said, “Derek is going to prison for a crime that didn’t happen.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  One Week Later: Toronto, Ontario

  Sam

  “GABRIELLA’S ALTERNATE PERSONALITY planned the frame and took months to weave the web.” Sam flopped onto one of the red chairs in Jim’s office.

  Pacing the large space, Jim countered, “Let’s agree that Gabriella has dissociative identity disorder — a condition we can’t medically validate, let’s not forget. It doesn’t prove Derek didn’t kill her.”

  “What I don’t understand is that Gabriella’s sister was a nice person. Gabriella’s alter isn’t nice,” Reece said.

  “It isn’t her sister,” Sam explained. “The second personality assumed her sister’s identity after Isabella’s death, but it was around long before she died. It’s a mixture of whoever took over when Gabriella lived in that cage and something dark that developed under the influence of her abductor. From the diary, we know it’s a very angry personality. It could be sociopathic, and I think we need to assume it’s now stronger than Gabriella is.”

  Jim sighed. “Fascinating but pointless. Tick tock, people, the clock is running out and I’ve never lost a case. I’m not about to start when the defendant is innocent.”

  Sam ignored him. “When Gabriella was in that pink cage, she’d enter a fugue state when the personality took over, most likely when her abductor tortured or sexually abused her. I doubt Gabriella remembered — remembers — anything about those six months. The alter personality did. Does.” Sam shook her head.

  “Is Quentin right, did Gabriella kill her sister because she confronted the alternate personality?” Reece asked.

  “It’s possible, especially if it’s sociopathic. Gabriella wouldn’t have killed her sister,” Sam said. “Her alter would if it viewed Isabella as a threat. Or Quentin twisted a senseless accident into something far uglier because of his own issues.”

  “Did Gabriella know about the second personality?” Reece asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t think she lied when she denied doing the things she was accused of when she was in the altered state. Remember the night we were there?”

  “What about it?”

  “Gabriella was flustered when we were talking. I was sure she recognized me but she denied it. Now, I realize she did recognize me. My sister, Joyce, would have been the same age as Gabriella’s sister.” Sam paused. “I bet Joyce and Isabella knew each other, maybe they were friends. Since I didn’t know we lived in London, I didn’t understand why Gabriella was acting so weird around me. The last thing Gabriella — or her alter — would want is someone popping up from her childhood.”

  Reece nodded. “Considering she went to so much effort to have her juvenile medical records destroyed, that makes sense. She tried to eradicate her past.”

  “The more I tried to get her to engage in small talk, the more stressed she got,” Sam said. “Then she… well, changed. Whenever Gabriella couldn’t handle a situation, it gave her alter personality the power to take over. That’s what happened with the dog.”

  Jim looked bewildered. “What has the dog got to do with anything?”

  “When Gana was ill, the other personality emerged,” she explained. “Gabriella never faced the grief of her dog’s death. She wasn’t aware it happened. On some level, she knew something was wrong, but the mind is a funny thing. When Gabriella was weak, the alter personality was able to take over and Gabriella would lose large chunks of time. Can you imagine how terrifying that would be? Her marriage was bad, she didn’t have any friends, and her social isolation forced her to find ways to self-justify the episodes.”

  “I talked to Derek about the dog,” Jim said. “He said his wife — or her alter, I suppose — told him every time she replaced the animal. It bothered him she gave the dog the same name, but he didn’t want to contradict her and have to explain to the kids why their mother was pretending it never happened.”

  Reece frowned. “How did he react to the DID theory?”

  “Believes it,” Jim answered. “He mentioned a couple of incidents, including two nights before she disappeared when she asked him to go to the shed to fix the door. Gabriella was always strange. Over the years, he ignored it.”

  “I don’t like Derek and he’s the most selfish person I’ve ever met, but I’m not surprised he didn’t jump to the conclusion of DID. It’s rare,” Sam said.

  “What else have you got?” Jim asked. “I can’t request a postponement based on the voice recording of a deranged man. A man, I’ll remind you, we can’t call as a witness because we don’t know where he is.” He exhaled in frustration.

  “The afternoon she disappeared,” Reece said, “a witness thought he saw Derek’s car. Gabriella must have rented a vehicle that looked like Derek’s, which means she dropped it off after the alleged murder. We checked car rentals in the Greater Toronto Area and no one recognized her picture, so she could have rented it outside the city. Sam is running Gabriella’s photo through rental agencies across Ontario.”

  “The problem is,” Sam continued, “you can drop off the rental after hours. Most agencies have a drop box. It’s possible no one saw her.”

  “Well,” Jim mused, “it would help if I could prove she rented a car. Gabriella’s the one who called the service station and said she couldn’t take her car in because she needed it. There would be no reason for her to have the rental.”

  “If someone recognizes her photo,” Sam knew it was a long shot, “we’ll discover the name she used to rent the car. I can confirm there’s no evidence she’s using the name, Isabella LeBlanc, but since Gabriella’s purse was in the house, we can bet her alter personality has identification. Assuming it’s still using it, we’ll have a solid lead.”

  “Gabriella or the alter personality visited Copper Harbor, Michigan, two months before she disappeared,” Reece said. “That must factor into this somehow.”

  Jim twirled a pen between his fingers. “Any chance she’s there?”

  “I sent the sheriff a picture, and he didn’t recognize her,” Reece told Jim. “But there’s a lot of country and wilderness out there. Truth is she could be in the vicinity. The sheriff said he’d have no way of knowing if she didn’t interact with anyone or go into town. He’s talking with state police and distributing the picture.”

  “How are you doing with tracing the money?” Jim asked.

  “The executor of her mother’s estate was a lawyer who was in practice alone and died over fifteen years ago,” Sam said. “Reece can explain the angle he’s working.”

  “My OPP contact referred us to a private sector forensic financial consultant. Quentin isn’t lying. There was money left in trust to Gabriella and a lot of it. He traced it from the grandmother to Nina. He’s following it from there.” Reece sighed. “Because of the time constraint, I’m calling in some major favours. The price tag is high.”

  Jim was unperturbed. “How long will it take?”

  “Depends,” Reece said. “The financial investigator will find it, but her mother died over twenty years ago. What we do know is Nina broke the trust when Gabriella was seventeen, which she was empowered to do. We found a holding company, but Nina dissolved it a few months before she died. She did a good job burying the money, and we have to assume she taught her daughter to do the same.”

  “Jim, if we provide you with evidence of the money’s existence, is that enough to show reasonable doubt?” Sam asked.

  “No, you’ll need to prove she accessed it after her assumed death.” Jim sighed. “If she is alive, is there any chance she’ll find out your guy is digging into her accounts?”

  Reece shrugged. “We’re not being discreet. We’re making noise in the hope it spooks her.”

&nb
sp; Jim stood, signalling the end of the meeting. Sam collected her stuff from the table and put on her jacket.

  “I’ll speak with the Crown and the judge,” Jim said. “I’ll present what we have and file to postpone closing arguments. I might be able to buy you three more days to find something.” He walked them out. “Sam, Lisa’s asking about Christmas.”

  Caught up in the investigation, she hadn’t contacted Lisa. “Oh boy, I forgot all about it. Is she mad I didn’t call?”

  Jim rolled his hand. “Are you two joining us?”

  “Christmas Eve, right?”

  Jim nodded. “Italian feast, same as always, but you’re welcome to stay for Christmas Day.”

  “No thanks, we’re going to Uthisca. I’ll visit Lisa this afternoon. I can see in your face she’s pissed I didn’t acknowledge her invitation.”

  “Finally, the Rock of Gibraltar moves. Thank God for small miracles. Remember, Gerbera daisies are her favourite.” Jim winked.

  “In vivid colours,” Sam confirmed. “Thanks for negotiating a truce, Jim.”

  He waved her off. “You’re sure you don’t want to be with Grace and Harvey? Lisa would understand if you wanted to spend Christmas with your mother.”

  Sam felt her eyes widen. In her peripheral vision, she saw Reece, who was in the process of putting on his jacket, freeze and drop it to the floor.

  Unaware of the problem, Jim continued, “We ran into Harvey last week Christmas shopping. He told us your mom is having luck with a new medication. Grace’s good days are improving.”

  Reece pick up his jacket. He brushed by her without a word. When she raced into the hallway, the elevator doors were sliding closed.

  Reece was gone.