In Her Mind's Eye

by Susan Gnucci

  And so, Detective McLean spoke his mind. “She came across as totally believable to me, Ed. Besides, how else can you explain all the things she knew? She knew just about everything. We both know that only comes from being an eye witness.”

  “Maybe she was there, Jay.” Detective Baxter arched an eyebrow at him. “And I don’t mean ‘psychically’.”

  “And just how does a woman her size abduct a teenage girl and strangle her with her bare hands?” Detective McLean asked, trying to keep the tone of his voice respectful while getting his point across.

  “Maybe she had help,” the senior detective said with a shrug. “Maybe she and a boyfriend abducted the girl and they killed her, or maybe the boyfriend did the killing and she just witnessed it.”

  At that, the young detective became animated, rising from his seat to walk over to the window where he began to pace, running his hand repeatedly through his cropped hair. “So you think she and some boyfriend were driving around and just decided on a whim to pick up a teenage girl to kill? Come on, Ed. She’s a well-educated woman. She’s on a career track.”

  “We both know plenty of professional people commit serious crimes, Jay,” Detective Baxter retorted, “including murder.”

  “I know. I know,” Detective McLean admitted reluctantly. “But I seriously can’t picture her involved in this, Ed, not in the way you mean. And if she was, why come forward? Isn’t that shooting herself in the foot?”

  Detective Baxter shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe her conscience got the better of her.” Suddenly irritated, he added, “How the hell am I supposed to know, for Christ’s sake?”

  “Or, maybe she did witness the murder just like she said she did.” Detective McLean held up his hands to defend his point of view. “I know it sounds implausible, but we both know some psychics are legit.” Witnessing the annoyed look on his partner’s face, he was quick to add, “Not many, I grant you, but some. And we both know police departments occasionally bring them in on tough cases, so why don’t we just give Tess the benefit of the doubt and circulate her sketch simply as a person of interest? What harm is it going to do? If the guy isn’t real, we won’t get any hits anyway.”

  “Listen, Jay. If you wanna waste your time on this psychic thing, be my guest. Fill your boots. I’ve got better things to do.” The senior detective made a point of rifling through the mound of paperwork on his desk, a more than subtle hint that their conversation was at an end. Before allowing the young detective to leave; however, he added, “But I want her story checked out, Jay. If she says she was camping the weekend of the murder, I want that confirmed. Bring in the friend.”

  Pausing at the door, Detective McLean turned around. Despite the risk of annoying his partner further, he advised, “I’ve got a gut feeling about this woman, Ed. She’s the real thing.”

  He needed to clear his head. He had been thinking about the witness for weeks now. At first, he wasn’t even sure if she really existed. He speculated she was someone from his past whom he had simply conjured up in a moment of frenzy, but he trusted his ability implicitly. It had never failed him. Oh, yes – he knew she was real alright. And she was obviously psychic. Like him.

  He stood in the cool, crisp air at the top of a popular lookout that evening gazing out over the lights of the city, lost deep in thought. It was a cloudless, windless night; the stars scattered above him like diamonds on black velvet; the muted traffic noises far below. It was a perfect vantage point from which to contemplate and strategize.

  She was out there somewhere. He could feel it. What a job it would be to find her! Almost impossible, really. But then he was not one to shy away from a challenge. In fact, despite the complication, he hadn’t felt this energized in years. Moving here had indeed been a fortuitous decision as it would offer him perhaps his greatest challenge.

  He knew what she looked like. He had that much to go on. She was young, no more than mid-twenties. Long dark hair framed a delicately boned face. He smiled knowingly when he remembered her eyes; they had been enormous as they’d taken in his handiwork.

  But how to find her? He was at a disadvantage because his search would undoubtedly be hampered by his pathological fear of public places. What else did that leave? He felt certain their connection had been the result of proximity, so he reasoned he could attempt to track her that way. He was fortunate his job entailed shift work as it would leave plenty of time to conduct his search.

  And if he found her? He had to be careful, for surely she knew what he looked like as well. He had to admit at first he had been concerned, especially when the girl’s body had been found so quickly, but from the nightly news coverage, it appeared as if that had been by accident. Hikers had apparently stumbled across the body. So the witness obviously hadn’t gone to the police. Why not? Did that mean she was frightened? He had to admit that thought delighted him.

  And what of her ability? How developed was it? Could she see him without his knowing? He didn’t think so, but couldn’t be certain. Had she always been this way? Could she control it? What was she capable of seeing? She was fast becoming an obsession with him as he had never met anyone like her before. Oh, of course, he knew other psychics existed, but to actually meet someone as extraordinary as himself…

  After the car accident when she was ten in which her parents perished, Tess moved to Victoria, a picturesque city on the southern coast of Vancouver Island in the Pacific Northwest. It was the home of her guardian, Emily, or more simply as she came to be known – Emmy. Tess had only met Emmy on the odd family occasion, for Tess’ paternal grandmother and Emmy were sisters who lived on different coasts. At a time in Tess’ life though when her whole world had changed so drastically, Emmy’s familiar face was a god-send. To a frightened, traumatized child, she represented a safe haven. Her warmth and sincerity were genuine, and she lived in a wonderful old house close to the ocean. Tess was given her own room under the eaves, and in time, she grew to love and trust her guardian, this woman who had willingly put aside her own retirement plans to care for a broken-hearted child.

  Tess woke bewildered that first morning in a strange house in a strange city. The unfamiliar, eerie bellow of a fog horn echoing off the water had roused her. It was still dark, not the pitch-black darkness of the night, but the soft darkness of the early morning when the air is tinged with the gentle colours of the rising sun. Tess lay cocooned under her comforter and took stock of her room. ‘Her room.’ It felt odd to consider this her room. Until yesterday, she had never even laid eyes upon it.

  The furniture, like everything else in Emmy’s house, was from another era – large, ornately carved pieces fashioned from rich, dark wood dominated the rooms, and Tess’ bedroom was no exception. Her bed was so massive a footstool was needed to climb onto it. It was a canopy bed complete with draw curtains, and Tess was enthralled with it, for she had only seen such a bed in story books. In one corner of the room, there was a large dresser in which Tess placed the few items of clothing she’d brought with her. Stubbornly, she had refused to bring many of her things, including much of her clothing, almost as though they carried with them all the pain and sadness of the past few months. Along one wall, there stood an old fashioned vanity with an elaborately carved mirror and a stool. On its surface, Emmy had thoughtfully laid out a vintage ivory comb and brush set for her use. Next to the vanity, there sat an ancient looking rocking chair, its leather seat cover faded and worn. Tess had reached out a hand to set it in motion, wondering at the generations that had undoubtedly taken pleasure in its use.

  But it was the window seat that had charmed her from the moment she set eyes upon it. It was situated on the west side of the house, and as a result, it was bathed in late afternoon sunshine. The seat cushions were sewn from a soft floral print, and three old-fashioned, well-loved teddy bears made it their home. Tess would come to know it as a perfect perch upon which to spend many an idle hour simply watching the clouds drift along or the sea birds in their aerial play. A blustery day woul
d provide added entertainment in the form of a multitude of colourful, fanciful kites that soared and swooped or hung on currents of air on the bluffs overlooking the ocean, their tails streaming out behind them, the laughter and shrieks from excited children trailing along after them.

  Tess was at the police station bright and early the morning after her initial session with the detectives. She was mildly annoyed neither detective was there to greet her; instead, she was escorted by a young officer to the second floor after giving her name at the reception desk. At least the clerk there treated her with more respect than she had the day before. Climbing the stairs, Tess tried to shake off her irritation, feeling guilty for having experienced it.

  The police sketch artist was a likeable, middle-aged woman named Sue. Her most remarkable feature was a crop of wild looking red hair. Perched atop a stool at her easel, she reminded Tess of some exotic tropical bird. Conversation was easy while Sue readied herself.

  As the minutes passed, Tess grew pensive. The thought of giving life to the image in her mind frankly unnerved her. It was bad enough it was locked away inside of her head, but to actually put it to paper disturbed her more than she cared to admit. She did not want this killer to be real, and yet, she knew with certainty he was. He was no figment of her imagination, however much she wished him to be. Never one for hiding her emotions well, Tess flashed Sue a weak smile as their session got under way.

  “It’s alright, Tess. Most of the people I work with don’t want to remember the face of their perpetrator. That’s natural. But trust me; once a sketch is done, you’ll feel relieved. It’s like all of that fear, and much of the emotional baggage that goes along with it, is transferred to the paper, you know?”

  With this assurance, Tess felt somewhat better. She was still unconvinced though about her ability to direct Sue to reproduce any kind of likeness, let alone an accurate one. She needn’t have worried, however, because the process, although slow, wasn’t nearly as difficult as she’d imagined. Under Sue’s expert guidance, a face slowly began to take shape – the long, thin chin; the deeply set eyes topped by bushy eyebrows; the rather large ears visible through thinning, wispy hair. They took a break a few times when it was evident Tess was getting tired or frustrated. It was on one of these breaks when Detective McLean stopped by to see how things were going. He came up behind Tess and leaned across her shoulder in order to better view the sketch.

  “Ah, I see the sketch is coming along nicely,” he remarked.

  “Morning, Detective McLean. Yeah, it’s getting there,” she agreed. “Sue is great to work with.” Tess tried to sound casual despite the fact her pulse had quickened from the mere smell of his cologne.

  “Yes. Yes, she is,” he agreed. “She’s been at this a long time.” He flashed Sue a brilliant smile that served to squelch any objection she might have had as to his comment having anything to do with her age. Turning his attention back to Tess, he said, “I was hoping I could speak with you some more about your… ”

  He seemed at a loss for words, so Tess graciously came to his aid. “About my ability?”

  He gave her a grateful, lopsided grin that set her insides fluttering. “Yes, your ability.”

  “Sure. When I’m done here.” She smiled up at him, hoping her voice didn’t sound too eager.

  “Great, thanks. I’m down the hall, last door on your right,” he replied. As he left the room, she noticed he practically had to bend down to go through the doorway.

  After he left, Tess found herself anxious to finish the sketch, and she secretly hoped Sue wasn’t able to pick up on that fact. They were close to being done anyway, but it seemed to take forever with the finishing touches. When the sketch was at last completed, Tess sat back in her seat and studied the likeness. It was not an entirely accurate one to be sure, but the general likeness was there, enough that it unnerved her.

  Sue noted her reaction. “I’m sure that’s a face you’d hoped never to see again,” she mused.

  Tess could only nod her head solemnly in agreement.

  “Hopefully, we’ll get some tips from this,” Sue speculated as she vigorously massaged life back into her cramped hands.

  Tess thanked her profusely and proceeded to head down the hallway to Detective McLean’s office. Although his door was closed, she became aware of a heated argument from within as she approached. Not wanting to eavesdrop, she knocked conspicuously. The angry voices instantly ceased, followed by the scraping of chairs, after which Detective McLean swung open the door. Upon seeing her, his frustrated look quickly evaporated to be replaced by one of embarrassment. Standing awkwardly aside, he ushered her in. Tess could see the source of his annoyance – Detective Baxter stood at the window, his arms folded sternly across his broad chest. As she entered, he mumbled an excuse and took his leave.

  Detective McLean gave her an apologetic look before explaining, “I’m sorry, Tess. Sometimes my partner and I disagree on things. As the lead detective on this case, he has pretty definite ideas on how to conduct the investigation…”

  “And you have other ideas?” she finished for him.

  “Let’s just say I’m a little more ‘open-minded’ as you called it,” he replied while trying to suppress a grin. “Please, sit down. Can I get you anything? A coffee?” he offered.

  “No thanks. I’m fine.”

  “I was hoping to talk to you some more about your ability. I know you said you don’t have much control over it, but I was just wondering…” he hesitated as if uncertain about proceeding.

  “You were wondering what?” Tess asked, at once both curious and cautious.

  “I was wondering if you might be able to pick up on anything from handling something of the victim’s,” he finished quickly, as if laying all of his cards out on the table at once was the best course of action. He seemed unsure of her reaction, afraid that having merely proposed the notion, he would scare her off.

  Tess hesitated before she admitted, “I really don’t know. I have had impressions, even sightings in similar circumstances, but they more or less just happened. I’ve never sat down and actually tried to conjure one up before,” she said with a frown. “I don’t know if I even could. I suppose I could give it a try.” She shrugged her shoulders to indicate her agreement.

  “Good then. Let me set something up.” Detective McLean was obviously pleased with her willingness. “Do you have some time to go through a couple of things? There are a few more questions I’d like to ask you…”

  It was after lunch before Tess emerged from the police station and made her way up to the university. She felt a keen sense of disappointment at not being able to provide any further information for the police to go on. If she was honest with herself, she wasn’t entirely sure her disappointment stemmed from not being able to further the investigation so much as not being able to help Detective McLean specifically. She shook her head in order to clear it – ‘Come on, Tess. That’s the last thing you need right now’. At least he believed in her. She could tell that much. His support was obviously creating friction with his partner, but she was secretly thrilled by it nonetheless.

  Tess was so incensed her hand literally shook as she punched in Detective McLean’s number on her cell phone the next afternoon.

  He answered on the very first ring. “Detective McLean here.”

  “You brought in Leah for questioning about our camping trip?” She tried but failed to keep the accusatory tone out of her voice.

  There was a long pause before the young detective answered in a calm, measured voice. “It’s routine, Tess. We needed to rule you out.”

  “Rule me out from what?” Her voice rose not only in pitch but in volume. When there was no immediate response, she groaned, “You’ve got to be kidding! You think I had something to do with this? Are you serious?”

  “You knew things you shouldn’t know, Tess,” the young detective attempted to explain, keeping his voice carefully controlled. “We have an obligation to find out the reason for th
at.” What Tess couldn’t see, of course, was the way in which the young detective rose from his desk and began to pace his office, one hand riffling repeatedly through his hair.

  “I told you the reason!” she insisted angrily.

  “I know you did, and you were very credible, but we have to do due diligence and check out your alibi,” he advised her as he stood in front of his window bracing himself for her reaction.

  “Jesus. My alibi? You make me sound like some kind of criminal,” she muttered.

  “Not at all, Tess. Leah was able to produce a receipt from the campground booking, and she gave us the names of several of your friends who have verified your story,” he informed her.

  “Story?” she repeated forlornly. “I’ve done nothing but tell you the truth.”

  The vulnerability of her voice tugged sorely at his conscience. “For what it’s worth, Tess, I believe you,” he confessed in an attempt to console her. “It’s just that your ability…well, it’s hard for most people to accept. You must understand that,” he added gently.

  “Yeah, I know,” she sighed resignedly.

  “Listen, I want to work with you. I hope you’re still willing to do a session with something of the victim’s.”

  The anticipation in his voice did not escape her notice, and with that, Tess’ spirits suddenly lifted. “And your partner?” she asked dryly.

  “Don’t worry about Detective Baxter,” he assured her.

  “You’re going to go against his wishes?” Tess asked, clearly surprised.

  “Let’s just say I’m confident I can elicit his cooperation,” he chuckled. “Well, maybe not with bells on or anything,” he admitted.