by Susan Gnucci
Several uncomfortable seconds passed before Detective McLean gently prompted her. “And what is it you saw, exactly?”
“It’s hard to explain. Can I ask you a question?” she asked tentatively.
“Of course,” he assured her.
“That girl – Katie Bishop. The news made it sound like she was dumped out at Prospect Lake, but she wasn’t, was she?” Without waiting for an answer, Tess continued, “She was killed out there, wasn’t she?” She looked to both detectives for confirmation; however, their countenances gave nothing away.
It was Detective Baxter who answered her question. “We aren’t at liberty to discuss specifics of an ongoing investigation, Miss…ah, Tess. Why do you ask?” He sounded both suspicious of her question and uncomfortable with the use of her given name. Tess could tell he was the type of investigator who preferred to keep things impersonal. He was probably one of those cops who conducted himself strictly by the books.
“Because I saw her out there.” Tess squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of their response, knowing full well the Pandora’s Box she had just opened with that statement.
“You saw her?” both detectives exclaimed at once, their attention now riveted.
Tess held up her hands in a defensive gesture. “I need to explain what I mean when I say, I saw her,” she was quick to add. This was a huge leap of faith for Tess because she had only confided in a trusted few about her ability. Now she would be forced to divulge her personal circumstances to those who would undoubtedly be skeptical, and she could hardly blame them. Nevertheless, she took a deep breath and forged ahead. “When I was little, I was in a car accident that changed my life in more ways than one. Since then, I’ve been able to…” She stopped mid-sentence, pausing as if struggling to describe something indefinable. “I’ve been able to see things others can’t. I can’t explain how or why. I don’t even have much control over my…my sightings.” She paused to let this information sink in for a second. “That’s what I call them,” she added sheepishly with a shrug of her shoulders, “for lack of a better word.”
An awkward silence followed during which both detectives shifted uncomfortably in their seats. It was clear they were having a hard time processing what Tess had just told them. Finally, Detective Baxter spoke up. “So you saw Katie Bishop in your mind; is that it?” he asked her curtly, raising an eyebrow, making no attempt to hide his skepticism.
Undeterred by his partner’s response, Detective McLean leaned forward to ask – “What did you see, Tess?”
It took several seconds before she could finally respond. “I saw her die,” she stated flatly.
“Jesus, no wonder you were scared.” Detective McLean sat back in his seat and slowly released his breath.
In contrast to his partner, Detective Baxter folded his beefy arms across his broad chest and gave her a dubious look. Tess had to wonder if this would trigger some kind of ‘good-cop, bad-cop’ routine in order to get to the bottom of things. Well, at least she knew who would play what role.
“You expect us to believe…" At this, Detective Baxter held up a hand toward his partner to silence any protest. “…that you picked up on this murder psychically?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Look, I know it’s hard to believe. I get that, but I’ve had this ability for years. I trust it. And a girl is dead. The same girl I saw,” Tess insisted.
“You’re sure it’s the same girl, Tess?” Detective McLean asked.
“I didn’t at first until I saw the story of her disappearance on the news and her picture was everywhere,” she confessed. “I didn’t know what to make of my sighting at the time it actually happened. And I had no way of knowing when or where it even took place. For all I knew, it could have happened years ago,” she explained.
“When you did realize it was the same girl, why didn’t you come forward at that point?” Detective Baxter asked without mincing words.
Tess winced as though she had just been slapped in the face.
Without even giving her time to answer, the burly detective pressed, “And when her body was found, confirming it wasn’t just a disappearance but a murder, why didn’t you come forward then?”
“Are you kidding me?” Tess balked. “I’ve only ever confided in two people in my entire life about my ability. Do you know how hard this is for me to come forward and talk to you guys about this? I know what most people think of psychics. They’re just like you. They think we’re all a bunch of charlatans or crack pots.” Humiliated and furious now, she stood up to leave. “You know, I can do without this crap.”
Detective McLean rose and held his hands up in an attempt to pacify her. “Tess, please…” He motioned to her chair. “Please, sit down.” He gave her such an imploring look, it made Tess regret her outburst. Despite that, she hesitated as if to weigh her options. Finally, she reluctantly lowered herself back into her seat, making a point of sitting on its edge to make it clear she was still prepared to leave. Feeling defensive, she sat with her arms crossed protectively against her chest.
“Now, let’s look at this objectively,” Detective McLean began.
“Listen,” Tess interrupted him. “Everything made sense when they found her body out at Prospect Lake. My roommate and I were camping near there the weekend Katie disappeared, and that was the same weekend I had my sighting…” her voice trailed off.
“Oh, OK. I get it,” Detective Baxter nodded. “So you not only picked up on this murder ‘psychically’, you also witnessed it as it happened?” Sitting back in his chair, he muttered under his breath, “Now I’ve heard everything!”
Embarrassed by his partner’s reaction, the young detective turned to give Tess his full attention, almost as if in doing so, he could convince her not to leave. “For argument’s sake, Tess, let’s just say what you saw was real. Can you provide us with any details?”
It touched her that both his voice and manner were respectful. That won her over. And the simple fact he was willing to entertain the idea calmed her, but before she was willing to answer, she shot his partner a withering glare. Then she purposely took her time collecting her thoughts. “Well, it was dark…” she began. Shifting in her seat so as to direct her explanation solely at Detective McLean, she continued, “At first, I saw only her. I saw ‘flashes’ of her running through the woods. My sightings are usually like that,” she explained. “It’s…it’s kind of like a strobe light going on and off in the pitch dark, so you only catch images for a split second.”
“Go on, Tess,” Detective McLean encouraged her.
“She was frantic…and disorientated…and utterly terrified. I could actually feel her fear.” Tess exhaled deeply and closed her eyes, massaging her temples in a vain attempt to erase not only the image but the feelings it evoked as well. She did not want to remember that poor girl’s agony.
Detective McLean waited patiently for her to collect herself before he gently asked, “What happened to her, Tess? What did you see?”
A look of anguish washed over Tess’ face as she continued, “He tackled her from behind.” At this admission, she buried her face in her hands, and several more seconds passed before she could regain her composure. The detectives waited in awkward silence, one of them clearly intrigued, the other just as clearly unconvinced. “She fought so hard,” Tess looked up with a tortured expression. “But her hands were bound behind her, and she couldn’t even scream because of the duct tape covering her mouth.” The mere thought of that dreadful image made Tess wince and look away.
Leaning his bulk over the tabletop, Detective Baxter posed a simple, direct question. “How did he kill her, Tess?” He waited expectantly for her answer as this information had not yet been released to the public.
Turning to face him, she replied with equal directness, tears now coursing down her face, “He strangled her.”
“How?”
Eyes brimming with resentment that he would so clinically tease the gruesome details from her, she finally admitted,
“With his bare hands.” Having said that, Tess lowered her head and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, knowing she was likely smearing her mascara.
Detective Baxter leaned back and shrugged his shoulders, his body language making it clear he considered her answer to be nothing more than a lucky guess.
Sympathetic to her discomfort, Detective McLean rose from his seat. “Let me get you a glass of water,” he offered. He left the room only briefly and reappeared with a tall glass of cold water and a box of tissues that he placed in front of her. Tess threw him a grateful half-smile and took several sips from the glass while dabbing at her eyes, mortified with the knowledge she always looked so gross when she cried. No doubt her nose was swollen and red; her skin was blotchy; and her eyes were puffy.
“Look, I know how difficult it must be to believe something like this,” she finally told them. “Trust me, I can appreciate that. Why do you think I’ve waited this long to come in? But I know what he did to her,” she stated defiantly. “He never raped her, you know. That’s not what excites him. It’s the kill. That’s why he strangled her with his bare hands. That’s what he gets off on, the sick SOB.”
Both detectives seemed taken aback at her outburst. It was obvious this woman believed wholeheartedly in what she was telling them, however implausible it might seem.
“I’m sure this has been awful for you, Tess,” Detective McLean’s voice was soothing, “but is there any chance you would be able to identify this guy?” He asked the question tentatively, afraid of upsetting her further.
“It was dark, but yeah, I got a look at him,” she admitted warily.
“Good enough to work with one of our police artists?”
“Oh, I don’t know if I’d be any good at that…” her voice trailed off. When she witnessed the disappointment clouding the young detective’s face, however, she was quick to add, “…but I guess I could give it a try.”
“That’s great, Tess.” Detective McLean brightened. “Let’s see what comes out of a session and we’ll go from there.”
“But you don’t understand!” She grew suddenly irritated. “He knew I was there.”
“What do you mean, Tess?” Detective McLean frowned.
“He’s like me. He saw me!”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because he smiled at me.”
“He smiled at you?” Detective McLean repeated, at once perplexed and transfixed.
“Yeah, I think he knew I was there all along,” she sighed. With this statement, Tess leaned over the table and lowered her voice as though afraid the killer could somehow hear her even now. “And do you know what?” she paused, shaking her head solemnly. “It didn’t bother him in the least.”
Detective Baxter braced his elbows on the table at that point and lowered his head into his hands, making it clear he wanted no part of the farce he saw unfolding. He felt a headache coming on.
For the moment, the young detective was rendered speechless. He didn’t quite know what to make of the intense young woman who sat before him, but he wasn’t willing to let her go until he’d heard everything she had to say. It certainly couldn’t hurt. Besides, they had no other leads right now anyway. “What happened after he smiled at you?” he asked, his voice low.
Tess paused briefly and then sank back against her seat. “He took a souvenir,” she muttered, pronouncing the last word slowly as if to emphasize her disgust.
“A souvenir? And what was that?”
“Her hair,” she replied numbly.
Detective Baxter slowly raised his head with that comment and shot his partner a bewildered look. “Her hair?” he repeated, straightening in his seat and clearing his throat as though he had something stuck in it. Leaning his bulk over the table once again, he asked in a guarded tone, “And just how did he do that?”
Tess looked up with a flat expression on her face. “He twisted it into a ponytail and sliced it off with a knife he had with him,” she explained, all emotion seemingly drained from her voice.
A moment of silence ensued while both detectives absorbed this information, the senior detective looking more puzzled than ever, the younger detective even more engrossed. “And afterwards, Tess?” McLean eagerly asked.
“I came out of it. Just like that.” She snapped her finger to emphasize the suddenness of it.
“Is that usual?”
“To end like that – yes, but to feel what I felt – no,” she admitted.
“And what was that?”
“Like I’d been hit by lightning.” Leaning forward in her seat, she confessed, “I don’t know if it was the power of our connection, or…the power of his ability.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Finally, Tess broke the silence by expressing her biggest concern. “It occurred to me he might be able to track me, you know. What if he can do that?” She turned to them, half expecting an answer, but in reality, knowing neither of them could provide her with one.
“Even if what you think is true, Tess, this is a city of 300,000 people. The odds of this guy finding you are pretty remote,” Detective McLean assured her. “And in our experience, these perpetrators are often transient. In all likelihood, he has moved on by now, especially if he thinks someone can ID him.”
“I guess you’re right. It’s been weeks and I haven’t had any more sightings; maybe he hasn’t either. I just hope he isn’t able to control his ability…” her voice trailed off.
“Then it’s important we get his sketch out there as soon as possible,” Detective McLean informed her. “Can you come back in the morning to work with our police artist?”
“Sure. I usually go up to the university on Saturdays, but I can always do that afterwards.”
“Are you a student?” Detective McLean asked, the curiosity in his voice was something Tess in her innocence didn’t pick up on.
“Yes, I’m an Astronomy graduate student. I’m finishing my Master’s degree this year,” she replied, suddenly self-conscious he would find her bookish, suddenly caring if he did.
“Well, hopefully, we won’t keep you too long in the morning. Can you stay a while longer tonight while we go over things one more time?” Detective McLean seemed to tread lightly, almost as if he was afraid Tess would be eager to be on her way after having unloaded her burden. “We need to make some notes.”
The senior detective raised his eyebrows with that statement but made no comment.
“I guess so. My roommate is waiting for me in the lobby though. I need to tell her how long I’m going to be.” Tess worried her lower lip.
“If she can’t stay, we can have someone drive you home.”
“OK, let me check with her.” With that, Tess returned to the lobby in the company of young detective where it was decided Leah would head home. As she turned to leave, her friend playfully winked at Tess, clearly supportive of leaving her best friend in the company of the tall, clean-cut officer.
It was a good two hours later before they finally finished questioning her. Detective Baxter had been relentless. Did she see his car? Did he wear gloves? How did he bind the girl’s wrists? Were any items of clothing removed? Did he take anything else? By the end, she was exhausted from the effort of trying to remember every little detail. Rising stiffly from her chair, she stood on tiptoe and stretched her arms high over her head in an attempt to relieve her aching muscles. All she wanted to do was go home.
Detective McLean suppressed a grin. “OK, I think that’s all for tonight. Let’s make sure we have your contact information and then you can be on your way. We’ll have one of our units drive you home.”
As she was guided back out into the hallway, Tess had to temper her disappointment that the young detective had not offered to drive her home himself.
As they parted ways, he thrust a business card in her hand. “Here’s my card, Tess. If you have any more sightings, be sure to contact me, OK? My cell number is on there as well as my office number. It doesn’t matter what time of day or nig
ht,” he advised her.
She winced inwardly with the knowledge that this was the first time she had ever received a man’s phone number, and sadly, it was only because she was a witness in a murder investigation. ‘Great. Leah will have a field day with that one,’ she thought dryly to herself.
“Thank you detective.” The corners of her mouth lifted in a tentative smile. “I know your partner doesn’t buy any of this, but I do appreciate your willingness to consider my information. Not a lot of people are open-minded when it comes to psychics.”
“Oh, don’t mind him,” the young detective assured her with a wave of his hand. “He didn’t mean any disrespect. He’s just old school, I’m afraid.”
Tess nodded and turned to leave but then seemed to think better of it. She stood pensively for a second as if reluctant to say anything further. Finally, she cautioned the young detective – “The man who killed that girl has done this before, you know.”
“What makes you think so, Tess?”
“Because he enjoyed it so much.”
After arranging a courtesy ride for Tess with a patrol unit that was heading out, Detective McLean made his way to his partner’s office, and as he did so, he prepared himself for the reaction he knew he was sure to encounter. It was the first time he’d taken the lead with a witness, but it had been without his partner’s consent or direction. Testing the waters, he stuck his head in the door and braced himself.
He was met with a frown and a stern look. “You actually bought all that mumbo-jumbo?” grumbled the senior detective who sat back in his chair and crossed his beefy arms, indicating with a nod of his head for his partner to take a seat.
Detective McLean entered the office reluctantly and silently folded his lanky frame into a chair, after which he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. He knew this would not be an easy conversation. He knew he would have to tread carefully. His senior partner had very definite ideas on things, and he was not easy to convince if his mind was made up. Nevertheless, in their three years together, he had always encouraged his young partner to speak up. If it was one thing Detective Baxter loathed, it was a ‘yes’ man. He liked a partner who could stand up to him – ‘chew his ass out’, so to speak.