by Susan Gnucci
Throughout her childhood, it wasn’t as if Tess longed for companions. Her life was stable and safe with Emmy, and that had been enough. When she entered high school; however, she suddenly became self-conscious about her lack of friends. Then everything changed when she met Leah. Assigned as Biology lab partners, Tess was enthralled with Leah from the very start. Leah had everything – looks, athletic ability, and brains, but in addition to all of this, it was her compassion Tess was drawn to.
As to what drew Leah to her, Tess could only speculate. She was more than surprised when Leah would seek her out to walk home together or sit with her at lunch break. Tess began to wonder if she was some kind of pet project, someone Leah wanted to mentor along, but Leah never made any attempt to change her. That was the funny thing. She never tried to mould Tess into something she wasn’t, and for that, Tess was grateful. Years later, when Tess asked Leah about the start of their friendship, she received a characteristically simple response – “You looked like you needed a friend.”
Emmy was delighted when Tess brought Leah home. She approved wholeheartedly of their friendship and did everything in her power to foster it. Even Bailey seemed to take to Leah, sidling up to her whenever she came to the house, fully expecting to receive some extra attention. And so their friendship had grown over the years despite their very apparent differences. It was the strongest relationship in Tess’ life next to that of her guardian.
“Tess, please open the door,” Detective McLean sighed heavily as he rang the doorbell for the third time. He felt foolish standing out there on her front porch imploring her to answer. When she did not, he glanced self-consciously over his shoulder at the neighboring houses, hoping anyone witnessing his actions would not misconstrue this as some sort of lovers’ spat. After a long pause, he knocked loudly against the screen door. “Come on, Tess. I know you’re home. There’s a car in your driveway.”
Still no answer.
“Tess, I need to speak with you. I had nothing to do with what happened the other day,” he pleaded.
When there was still no response, he hung his head, flipped up the collar of his coat against the wind and turned to leave. All of a sudden, he heard the latch. Turning back around, he spied a blonde woman half hidden behind the screen door, her arms crossed tightly against her chest, her look defiant.
Hope sprung into his voice. “Hello, Leah. Is Tess at home?”
“She won’t see you. She says to leave her alone,” Leah retorted haughtily.
“Please tell her it’s me. Detective McLean,” he implored.
“She knows it’s you. You guys should be ashamed of yourselves. If I was Tess, I wouldn’t give you the time of day. She was just trying to help, you know, and you guys go and do that to her.” The tone of her voice was full of contempt causing the young detective to wince at her tongue lashing.
“Look, I need to explain things to her. I had nothing whatsoever to do with what happened,” he declared. “It was my partner. He retrieved the ring from lockup. He’s got some issues with this whole psychic thing…” his voice trailed off. When he saw his explanation was getting him nowhere, he sighed wearily and slowly backed down the steps, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. “Just tell her that, please.”
He was halfway to his car when he heard the screen door open. As he turned around, Tess stepped out onto the porch, her face unreadable. She too had her arms folded across her chest. He suppressed a smile of relief that threatened to show itself, tugging at the corners of his mouth as he walked resolutely back towards the house. Stopping at the base of the steps to the porch, he was careful not to go any farther; after all, he didn’t want to press his luck. “Thanks, Tess. I really appreciate you seeing me. Can we talk?” he asked with delicate care.
She frowned at him, gave a huff as if to resign herself to such an unpleasant task, and disappeared back inside the house, leaving the screen door banging in her wake. He meekly followed her lead. Once inside, he noted her house wasn’t at all what he would have expected of a young woman. It was like walking into an antique shop. Tess noted his interest, but she was far too annoyed with him to make any comment. For the time being, she was enjoying his discomfort. Leading him into the sitting room, she motioned for him to take a seat. He sat down on a large armchair, sitting tentatively on its edge so as not to disturb the plethora of pillows placed there. Tess settled in the opposite chair and folded her hands neatly in her lap, prepared to hear him out.
The young detective wasted no time. “Thanks for seeing me, Tess. I really appreciate it. Listen, I know you’re upset, and I don’t blame you one bit, but you need to know I had nothing to do with what happened. Ed…I mean, Detective Baxter, retrieved the ring from the evidence locker.” He paused at this point, suddenly aware of the fact he’d had been talking to the rug because he couldn’t bear to witness the glaring mistrust in her eyes. Finally though, he looked up, made eye contact, and forged ahead. “Detective Baxter is having trouble with all this…psychic stuff. He figured one way to verify it would be to switch out the ring, so I’m afraid he swapped it for one of his daughter’s.” McLean winced when he witnessed the sour look Tess threw him. “But I guess you already know that, don’t you?” He shrugged sheepishly
She did not answer but simply regarded him haughtily.
The young detective stood up at this point and ran his hand through his hair as he paced the width of the room. “Look, I know it was a lousy thing to do. Believe me, I told him so. And he’s pretty ashamed; I can assure you. But the fact of the matter is we still have an investigation to do. There’s still a grieving family looking to us for answers, and there’s still a killer on the loose out there. I believe in you, Tess. I have from the very beginning. I think the gift you have is genuine, and I think you can help us catch this guy. Please don’t let your anger stand in the way of that.” The pleading look he gave her took the edge off her indignation. She believed he would have gotten down on his knees if he thought it would help.
Almost as if his speech had drained him, he dropped back into the armchair and hung his head.
Several moments of uncomfortable silence followed before Tess finally cleared her throat. “Fine. Apology accepted,” she announced dryly.
He gave her an incredulous look. “Alright, then. That’s…that’s great.” He placed his hands on his knees and nodded his head vigorously, smiling broadly. “Can we try again?”
She raised an eyebrow at him.
“I mean, with the ring. Can we try with the real ring?” he added.
“Yes, but we do it here. You bring the ring here where I am comfortable, and I’ll see what I can do.” She gave him her terms.
“No problem. No problem at all, Tess.” He was quick to assure her.
She stood up from her chair, indicating their conversation was at an end.
He took the hint and rose from his seat. “Can I bring it over today?” he asked tentatively. He was worried that might be pushing it, but he asked anyway.
“Alright. I’ll be home by about 7:00 tonight. You can bring it over then,” she replied, leading him to the front door. “And as a matter of fact,” she added, “be sure to bring Baxter along. He can apologize in person.”
“Ah, Yeah…sure. No problem.”
Tess followed the young detective out on to the porch to see him off.
“Thanks, Tess. Thanks again.” He nodded his gratitude and headed to his car, his step much lighter now that they were on speaking terms once again. The wind had picked up, tugging at the tails of his overcoat.
Tess stepped to the porch railing, hugging herself against the chill and called after him, “Hey McLean…”
He stopped at his car and turned to face her.
“Baxter and his wife should have had ‘the talk’ with their daughter a lot sooner.” She paused in order to let her comment sink in. Witnessing his puzzled look, she added – “She’s pregnant.”
A look of astonishment passed over the young detective’s face befor
e he broke out into a huge grin.
“It gets better,” she added wickedly. “It’s twins.
He was a methodical hunter. Years of practice had allowed him to hone his skill such that he took very few risks, and as a result, he had been very ‘successful’. Only rarely did he ever chance upon a victim. In most cases, the hunt took days or weeks or even months to come to fruition. Those were the ones he enjoyed the most, for the reward when it came was all the sweeter.
Sometimes it was the location he settled on first – an isolated parking lot or a deserted back road that he would then proceed to stake out. His keen eye missed nothing, and of course, he trusted his instincts implicitly. If he picked up on anything, even the slightest thing, he moved on. Once in wait for a victim, he had the cunning and acumen of a true hunter with the uncanny ability to spot the most vulnerable, the least suspecting. Like a spider, he waited patiently to ensnare some hapless prey in the web he had carefully crafted.
Perhaps his greatest attribute as a hunter was the simple fact he appeared to pose no threat. He was not a large man by any means; in fact, he was rather slim and bookish in appearance. This seemed to set most women immediately at ease. And his manner wasn’t at all offensive; quite the opposite – it was polite, almost apologetic. Again, that drew no warning flags for most women, and so they were easily drawn in. By the time they had any inkling of the true danger they were in, it was always too late – the trap had been sprung; their fate sealed.
Sometimes rather than settling on a location first, he would concentrate instead on selecting a potential victim. This type of hunt invariably took longer, for he had to be extremely careful. He had to stalk his victim, and yet, not give himself away in the process. This meant weeks, sometimes even months, of learning her habits and routines in order to spot her vulnerabilities. He needed to find her ‘Achilles heel’, so to speak. He needed to know what situation she would trust, when that was likely to occur, and what approach would lure her in.
In choosing his victim, he was immediately attracted by a woman’s hair; it drew him like a moth to a flame. Blonde, red, black, brown (and every shade in between), straight, curly, wavy – his hair fetish encompassed everything. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The only thing he could not abide was a poor dye job. And of course, a woman’s hair had to be long and flowing; the longer, the better.
In addition to hair, it was a must for a woman to be small in stature because he was not a large man. He’d made a mistake once (although he was loathe to admit it) in selecting a larger woman, and she had almost cost him everything. Almost. No, he wouldn’t make that mistake again. He was strong for his size, very strong in fact, but he had a cardinal rule about his victim’s size, and he took no chances whatsoever when it came to that.
But this hunt, this one was different. He had to find her. She was a loose end he could ill afford. Even more than that though, more than needing to find her, he wanted to find her. He had never shared his ability with anyone, never told a soul. And yet, here was a complete stranger who, by virtue of her ability, had shared something incredibly intimate with him – his latest kill. He marvelled at their connection. She was a kindred soul.
It was a pity she had to die.
Tess could still recall the first real conversation she ever had with Emmy all those years ago. After their first few weeks together as Tess began to feel some sense of security in her new life, she started to respond with one-word answers. Wisely, Emmy never pressed for more than that. Instead, she simply worked around that fact, talking to Tess, stimulating her, but never actually requiring or expecting much of an answer in return. It was amazing Emmy intuitively understood how to parent such a fragile child when she`d never had any children of her own.
As the weeks turned into months during their first spring together, Emmy and Tess spent their time at the public library indulging in their mutual love of reading, or down at the beach combing for shells and other sea creatures in the warm tidal pools, or wandering the numerous antique shops in their city in search of vintage treasures. Emmy was a passionate patron of the arts, so Tess benefited from days spent wandering local art galleries and museums through which she learned all about the rich cultural heritage of the Pacific Northwest. While other girls her age were watching TV and listening to pop music, Tess attended concerts, plays, and festivals, all of which served to stimulate her senses.
Slowly, Tess began to emerge from her self-imposed isolation under her guardian’s gentle care, but she still remained a naturally quiet, thoughtful child. On one particular day in late spring while taking advantage of a stretch of gloriously fine weather, Emmy took Tess down to the beach. They spent their entire day searching for shells, building sand castles, and playing with Bailey in the surf. Afterwards, they sat in companionable silence with their backs against a massive log, one of many to wash ashore during a particularly stormy winter season that year.
It was late in the day and they had just spread out a tasty picnic supper. Bailey stood obediently at the foot of their blanket waiting patiently for some tidbit should it happen to fall his way. As they relaxed, Tess turned to Emmy, squinting up at her in the fading afternoon light and asked in a manner seemingly far older than her years, “Why didn’t you marry him?”
Emmy didn’t register surprise, not at the question being asked, or at the fact Tess had actually asked a question. She simply replied, “Marry who, dear?”
“The man in the picture on your dresser.”
“Ah, yes. Well, things were a lot more complicated back then.” Emmy sighed. After a moment’s hesitation in which she seemed to collect her thoughts, Emmy proceeded to explain things further. “That was back in 1941. We were young and in love and very, very headstrong, I’m afraid.” Glancing down at her charge, she chuckled, “Oh, my. I’m sure it’s hard for you to believe – that someone as old as me was young once.” She leaned over with a conspiratorial wink and whispered, “But I was!”
“Now where was I?” she checked herself. “Oh, yes. Back in those days,” she explained, “the type of family you were born into mattered a great deal. If a boy’s family didn’t – how shall I put it? – travel in the same social circles…” Without waiting for Tess to question the meaning of this phrase, she continued, “I know. I know. It’s ridiculous to judge someone based on that, but times were different back then. Oh, it never meant anything at all to me, but my parents – now they were another matter entirely.” Her voice suddenly sounded very weary, and she sighed heavily. “And then he went off to war as so many young men did in those days. He wasn’t afraid at all. Thought it was some grand adventure, the silly fool. We’d agreed to run away together as soon as he returned, but like so many others, he never did. It was some time before I learned he had been killed in France.”
Tess nodded her head as if satisfied with the explanation given to her, and a minute or so passed before she thoughtfully asked, “But why didn’t you ever marry somebody else?”
“Well, I suppose because I never found anyone I liked quite so much,” Emmy replied with a wistful smile.
Tess seemed satisfied with such a simple answer, so Emmy left it at that. They soon packed up their picnic basket, called to Bailey who was off chasing sea gulls, and headed back along the steep path leading up from the beach. That night as Emmy tucked her in, Tess responded with a fierce hug. When the tears finally came, it was as if they could not be stopped. Emmy gently placed a hand on either side of the little girl’s pixie face to tilt it up to her own and simply advised, “You cry it out child.”
Later in the evening as she prepared for bed, Emmy stood beside her dresser gazing at the faded photograph of her first and only love, the wisp of a smile softening the lines of her wizened face. “Now don’t you get me crying,” she muttered affectionately as she turned out the light.
Tess was home in plenty of time to change her clothes and refresh her makeup before the detectives were due to arrive with the real ring. As she did so, her thoughts drifted back
to the fact Detective McLean had actually come to her home to apologize. Granted, she wouldn’t answer any of his phone calls so that had left him little choice, but she’d been secretly thrilled to see him nevertheless. And he believed in her. He believed in her, and he had asked for her help. She knew she would do whatever she could to help him.
Leah was sorely disappointed to learn the detectives were to return after dinner as she had a dance class to attend. Flying out of the house with her gym bag just as the two detectives pulled up, she made a point of openly scowling at them as she got into her car. She wasn’t nearly as forgiving as Tess, and she wanted them to know that.
The two men made their way up to the front door, the taller of the two striding purposefully, the larger lagging reluctantly behind. It was McLean who rang the doorbell. Beside him, his partner shifted nervously on his feet and ran a finger under his collar in an attempt to loosen it. McLean turned aside to suppress a grin, thankful it wouldn’t be him in the ‘hot seat’.
Tess greeted them coolly and led them both into the sitting room.
“Thanks for agreeing to try this again, Tess.” McLean’s voice was conciliatory.
She simply acknowledged his comment with a curt nod of her head and turned her full attention to his partner. She had to admit she was enjoying the senior detective’s obvious discomfort, for he would not make eye contact with her, but rather stood like a truant schoolboy about to be disciplined – hands clasped firmly behind his back, feet braced apart, head hung down. When he finally had the nerve to steel a glance at her, he was met with raised eyebrows.