by Susan Gnucci
“Hey, I don’t want to get you into any trouble,” her voice softened.
“Like I said; don’t worry about it. I have thick skin. I’ll call you when I have something set up. OK?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there…with bells on.”
He burst out laughing at her jest and returned to his desk to sit back in his chair, his mood now much lighter. “Thanks, Tess. Let’s hope something comes of it.”
“Yeah, no pressure or anything.”
It was an appallingly bad likeness. The nose was entirely too long, giving the face a thin, pinched look and the ears were grotesquely large. He felt shock and indignation as he stared at it. So she had gone to the police after all. Well, she would pay dearly for that he vowed.
The evening news had featured his sketch in its updated coverage of the Bishop murder. No sooner had he settled himself in front of the TV with his supper than there it was staring out at him – his own likeness. A poor likeness, true, but it was his all the same. Thankfully, she had missed the scar; it had probably been too dark to see it. Absent mindedly, he lightly traced his fingers over it as he sat there. At the age of seven, a large mole had been surgically removed leaving an angry red scar that had faded over the years but had nevertheless left him marked. He had been painfully self-conscious about it when he was younger because many of the children at school had teased him relentlessly, calling him names like ‘Frankenstein’ and ‘monster’. Even his own mother had been embarrassed by it, always applying some of her makeup to cover it. But now he was almost relieved to have it, because with the scar, he differed significantly from the sketch.
As the consequences of the sketch sunk in, he grew annoyed with the thought of having to alter his appearance. He’d never encountered this problem before. He had always been so careful. Meticulously careful. It was something he prided himself on. But how could he have foreseen something like this? Someone like her?
In his annoyance, he vowed not to change anything, but as the evening wore on, he began to feel uneasy. He was ill-equipped to handle such emotions. Finally, he was forced to admit the sketch bore a slight resemblance to him, so in the end, he decided to err on the side of caution and trim his hair. It was an amateurish job, and he knew it, and that only served to irritate him further. Perhaps he should grow a beard? Dye his hair? Shave it all off? He had to be careful he reasoned, for too radical a change might only serve to draw attention, would it not?
He went to bed that night puzzled and unsettled by an entirely new feeling – fear. He did not like it. Not at all.
He had to find her.
Tess lay in her bed so keyed up from having seen her sketch on the evening news, she was unable to sleep, her mind awash with fears and worries. It was at times like this she sorely missed the simple comfort of her dog, Bailey. Bailey had actually been Emmy’s dog, a beautiful, gentle golden retriever, but from the day Tess entered their lives, he had also bonded with her. It was like that dog knew instinctively what a motherless, traumatized child needed, and he provided unconditional love and devotion from the first moment they met. Tess smiled as she recalled meeting Bailey for the very first time…
After breakfast on their first morning together, Emmy made a simple announcement – they had an important errand to run. On the drive out to the boarding kennel, Tess was preoccupied with her new surroundings. There was so much to take in - from the quaint rows of heritage homes, to the enormous cedar trees with their massive trunks, to the smell in the air that was both salty and pungent. Upon arriving at the kennel, Tess found it hard to suppress her curiosity. She could not know it, of course, but her reaction delighted Emmy who was encouraged to see her ward interested in something.
At first, Emmy had been worried about Tess, but before leaving the hospital, she had been briefed as to her ward’s prognosis. Physically, Tess had healed remarkably well, and even her muteness, which was deemed to be psychological, was not expected to last. The doctors had assured Emmy that in time, and with the aid of therapy, Tess would surely speak again. Emmy wisely wanted to give her charge some time to settle in first before she enlisted the aid of therapists, and her beloved dog was a first step in that process.
Bailey had come into Emmy’s life five years earlier as a retirement present to herself, and she loved him dearly. And now, her hope was Tess would be able to bond with him as well. And indeed, when Tess first laid eyes on that dog, it had been both an unexpected joy and love at first sight. Never having had a pet of any kind, she was thrilled beyond measure, especially with one who would not mind her muteness. Sinking to her knees, she wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck and buried her face in the softness of his fur. The unabashed contentment on her young face when she looked up was profoundly moving, her eyes expressing everything she could not say, a ghost of a smile playing across her lips.
Tess didn’t think it possible to be more nervous than the first time she was interviewed by the police, but she felt doubly so today. She had no idea what to expect in her session this morning in which she would handle something belonging to Katie Bishop. She did not doubt the accuracy of her ability, that wasn’t it at all, but she did not feel confident about being able to summon it at will. Usually, it came upon her of its own accord. It was never really anything she had ever tried to force before, so trying to conjure it up, especially in such an artificial setting, was daunting to say the least. But she had agreed to this session of her own free will, so she was determined to see it through.
If she was honest with herself, she had to admit a simple truth – in addition to aiding the investigation, she was just as eager to please Detective McLean. She knew she was being foolish. Although he wore no wedding ring, he could be married, or at the very least have a girlfriend. Even if he was unattached, she had no idea if he was at all attracted to her. She was so inexperienced in these matters, and that fact only made her more anxious. By the time the two detectives entered the room, she was downright jumpy.
“Good morning, Tess. Thank you for coming in today.” Detective McLean took the lead and sat down across from her. Although his tone was formal, he smiled warmly at her.
“Sure, no problem.” She tried to sound casual while making a concerted effort to push aside the giddiness she was experiencing in his presence.
“Detective Baxter and I have discussed what we would like to try today.”
Tess glanced up at the senior detective who took a seat somewhat grudgingly and then proceeded to type away on his cell phone. She marvelled how his beefy fingers were able to work the small keypad so easily.
Tess’ attention was drawn back to the task at hand by Detective McLean who subtly cleared his throat. “We have an item of the victim’s and we’re hoping you might be able to…” He seemed at a loss for words.
“Channel?” she suggested helpfully. Her insides fluttered when he grinned back at her.
“Yes, channel,” he said with a nod.
It was then that Tess noted the clear plastic evidence bag in his hand. Inside was a woman’s ring. She cocked her head and looked at it in wonder. Detective McLean studied her gaze for a moment before proceeding to place the bag on the table between them. He then slid it gently towards her. “Go ahead, Tess. Open it,” he encouraged her.
She looked over at Detective Baxter as if to also seek his permission, and he nodded his head curtly, his face expressionless.
Reaching out tentatively, she suddenly hesitated, her arm pausing in mid-air. Her hand visibly shook, indicating with glaring clarity her lack of composure. Humiliated, she quickly snatched it back. “Oh, God. I’m so nervous,” she confessed, letting out a long sigh.
“What would make you more comfortable, Tess?” Detective McLean’s question rang with sincerity. “Would you prefer to spend some time alone with the ring?”
She was thankful for his suggestion and the look she flashed him expressed her gratitude. She nodded her head vigorously.
“No problem. Take your time.” He pushed his chair back fr
om the table and stood up, prompting his partner to do the same. “And feel free to handle the ring if you think it will help. We’ll check back with you in a while.”
Tess did not catch the annoyed look the senior detective threw his partner as they left the room. That was just as well because she was nervous enough. Left by herself, Tess had no doubt she was far from alone. After all, she’d seen enough movies and cop shows to know the glass she was staring at was likely the two-way kind and that behind it, they were probably gathered around watching her like some kind of zoo exhibit. All the same, she did feel better not having people right in the room with her, especially one whose silence was so indicative of his skepticism. Sighing heavily, she moved her chair around the table to face away from the glass, essentially sitting with her back to them, knowing that in doing so, she was rudely making a point, but she needed to concentrate.
At first, she could not even bring herself to touch the evidence bag; instead, she simply stared at it, lost deep in thought. It was fascinating, albeit morbid, to know the ring in front of her had been on the hand of that poor girl as she’d fought so desperately for her life. It was a simple ring, a thin silver band with a single blue stone. She had to wonder if it was the girl’s birthstone. Who had given it to her? Was it a favourite? Finally, Tess reached out and pulled the bag slowly towards her. She lightly placed her hands on top of it, hoping to pick up on something without actually having to handle the ring itself, for to do so seemed almost sacrilegious, like she would somehow dishonour the girl.
As the minutes ticked by and the seriousness of the situation hit home, the expectations placed upon her weighed heavily. She sincerely wanted to help find this killer and bring the victim’s family some measure of justice and closure. She just didn’t know if she could.
Lowering her head, Tess squeezed her eyes shut in a vain attempt to concentrate. Trying to clear her mind, she focused solely on the ring…and yet…nothing. After several more attempts, she knew she needed to touch it. Hesitating only briefly, she opened the bag. The ring slipped out and fell with a soft clank onto the surface of the metal tabletop. It looked so innocuous lying there. If Tess had seen it in a store, she wouldn’t have given it a second glance.
Almost as if to get the moment over with, she snatched it up. Clasping the ring in one hand, she closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. Several minutes passed marked only by her deep, rhythmic breathing. And then…tipping her head back, she seemed to wince slightly, and her brows knitted together in confusion. Upon opening her eyes, she looked down at her closed hand and frowned. Turning her hand palm-side up, she slowly uncurled her fingers and studied the ring intensely for several seconds, turning her hand this way and that.
Finally, she gingerly set the ring back on the table in a deliberate, careful movement. With an exasperated sigh, she slid her chair back forcefully and stood up from the table. Slipping her arm through her book bag, she yanked open the door and stormed out of the room. Once out into the hall, she ran headlong into Detective McLean.
“Tess? Is everything alright?” he asked, his expression one of puzzled concern.
“No, everything is not alright,” she replied defiantly, crossing her arms against her chest.
“I don’t understand. Did you pick up on something about Katie?”
“As a matter of fact, no. But I do know one thing for certain.” Her anger was mounting.
“What’s that?”
“That,” she declared as she pointed back to the room she’d just left, “is not her ring.”
“What?” Detective McLean sounded genuinely shocked. “What do you mean it’s not her ring? Of course it is. We retrieved it from the evidence locker this morning.”
“No, it isn’t,” she corrected him as she glared up at him. “And I don’t appreciate being played for a fool, Detective.”
He held his hands up in front of her, effectively blocking her way, and yet, he was careful not to make any physical contact. “Wait. Please wait.” He tried in vain to calm her. “If you’re telling me that’s not her ring, then whose is it?”
“Ask your partner,” she replied angrily as she brushed past him and stormed off down the hall.
He was greatly relieved the sketch did not appear to have raised any suspicions at work, not that he had much contact with anyone there anyway. By the time he started his shift, the only person left in the building was a woman who did the books, and occasionally, his employer stayed late if there was an emergency to attend to.
Even during his shift, he kept to himself in the back of the building and simply did his job. But now with the release of the sketch, he felt as though the tables had been turned – the hunter felt like the hunted. That did not sit well with him. It had taken all of his willpower and all of his focus to appear normal, to concentrate, however distractedly, on his work in the days after the sketch’s release.
She’d noticed his hair cut, had actually complimented him on it – the stupid woman who did the books. He avoided her like the plague, for she was truly the most annoying creature he had ever run across, and he did not want to encourage her in the least. He doubted she possessed the intellectual capacity to put two and two together even if he were to walk around with the sketch plastered on his forehead. By her own admission, she was addicted to sappy romance novels and to the care of her menagerie of pets. That was the only redeeming quality about her as far as he was concerned – the fact she loved animals. Had she been less annoying, that shared interest may have created some common ground. Even had that been the case, he had a cardinal rule about personal relationships. He didn’t engage in them. Period. He was a loner through and through, and that suited his purposes just fine.
When he first started his job, the ‘pest’ (as he dubbed her) had flirted outrageously with him, hoping no doubt to strike up some sort of romance. She was grossly overweight and had a needy, almost clingy, air about her. If she only knew how much he would have loved to wrap his hands around her fleshy neck and squeeze. Despite the fact she knew she didn’t stand a chance with him, she always hurried into the back whenever he came on shift. He would hear her heavy breathing as she laboured down the long corridor to greet him.
“Just making sure it’s you,” she’d natter upon seeing him. “You never know these days. A woman alone is fair game for any psycho or crook.”
He would acknowledge her with a dismissive nod of the head while hanging up his coat and then make a quick escape to his work area. He knew only too well that anything more, anything as slight as a simple “hello”, would set her off on a tangent. Given the slightest encouragement, she would drone on and on about whatever nonsense had caught her fancy that day. Once he started his shift, she would drift back to the front desk, no doubt to read her trashy novels when she was supposed to be doing the books.
Since launching the search for his witness, his life had taken on a new routine. When his evening shifts were finished, he would spend several hours driving methodically through the different neighbourhoods in the city. He meticulously organized his search on a grid-like basis using a large city map he tacked up on the wall of his kitchen. Each night, he would keep track of every street, cul-de-sac, and back road which he would then mark off on the map. He felt certain he would be able to pick up on something at some point. Their connection had been that strong. He believed it would be akin to picking up on a scent, much like the lingering smell of a woman’s perfume long after she had passed by.
Although he did not feel the need to disguise himself at work as such a measure would have only have drawn attention anyway, he made a point of altering his appearance whenever he had to go out in public, even while cruising in the evenings. He would take the time at the end of his shift to apply a disguise, becoming quite adept at using make-up, wigs, facial hair – anything to render him less conspicuous in terms of his sketch. At first, he found it most inconvenient, but there was always the possibility someone would recognize him. Despite his initial reluctance, he act
ually came to pride himself on the many different looks he could achieve from products he found online. It was never anything he’d had to do before, of course, as none of his victims had ever lived to provide the police with anything, but given the situation he had been forced to contend with, he was really quite pleased at his resourcefulness.
But he was most annoyed that to err on the side of caution, he would have to go farther afield to hunt, possibly up island or over to the mainland in order to keep the police at bay. And yet, he would find his witness; of that, he had no doubt. He knew it would take time, but he was a very patient man. After all, the hunt was almost as sweet as the kill.
When Tess arrived home after the ring incident, she unloaded on her friend Leah. They had been roommates for several years now, and their friendship had developed to the point where they were as close as sisters. After stomping around the kitchen unleashing a torrent of obscenities, Tess stopped and hugged herself, taking several deep breaths in an attempt to calm down.
Leah just sat there. Finally, she simply sneered, “Ah, screw’em.”
This comment sent Tess into a fit of laughter, effectively deflating her anger. She shook her head and plopped down on the chair beside Leah, bringing her knees up to her chin and resting her head there. It never failed to amaze her how different they were. She had immediately kicked into overdrive while Leah had remained collected, simply summing up the situation with that simple phrase.
Their temperaments were the complete opposite in every respect. Leah was the outgoing one, always up for trying something new, always quick to volunteer. Tess, on the other hand, always hung back, never seeking attention of any kind. Leah had been a track and field athlete throughout high school while Tess had stuck to her books.
The two women not only differed in temperament, but in looks as well. Whereas Leah was tall and blond, Tess was small and dark. Leah was a ‘knock-out’ and it was a fact she could have had her pick of any guy she wanted, but she was in no rush to settle down with anyone. She dated half-heartedly, always having to be the one to ease out of a relationship if it proceeded too quickly. Although Tess wasn’t unattractive, she simply never drew much male attention. She certainly never courted any, preferring instead to stick to her studies, particularly when she entered graduate school.