by Susan Gnucci
“So whose ring do we have today, Baxter? One of your wife’s perhaps?” She witnessed the look of embarrassment on his face turn to one of pain which made her realize her sarcasm had hit a nerve. She immediately felt remorseful for allowing her anger to get the better of her.
With his face a brilliant shade of red and with genuine contriteness in his voice, he replied, “No, Miss Walker. I can assure you; it’s the victim’s.” He hesitated and glanced at his partner who gave him a look as if to say, “Go on…”
“I owe you an apology, Miss Walker. It was a stupid thing to do, and I’m sorry it caused you distress.”
“Thank you, Baxter. Apology accepted.” Tess’ tone softened for a moment, and then she switched gears. “I do want to make one thing clear from now on though. If you want my help, you will treat me with respect. That means no games, no tricks, no lying.” She crossed her arms against her chest and looked to both detectives for their agreement.
“I understand, Miss Walker,” Baxter answered solemnly.
“Yes, of course,” McLean also assured her, nodding earnestly.
“Good then. Now, Baxter, please loosen up and call me Tess,” she smiled tentatively at him, glad the air had been cleared. “Let’s have a look at that ring, shall we?”
They brought the ring out in its evidence bag and handed it to her. She held it up to her face in order to examine it more closely. This ring was a simple silver band engraved with a delicate scroll pattern. She was immediately drawn to it. Several moments passed before she suddenly announced, “I want you to leave it with me for a few days.” The challenging look she gave them was meant to squelch any objection. “I don’t want to feel like some kind of lab animal expected to perform on command,” she explained. “It just doesn’t work that way.”
“That’s against p…” began Baxter before he was cut off.
“I’ll take full responsibility for the ring, Ed,” McLean reassured him.
“Good then,” Tess said. “I’ll let you know if I come up with anything.”
He loved the city after dark. He loved the sense of freedom and the anonymity it afforded him. He could come and go as he pleased without the press of traffic or the bother of people. Nestled in his car in the evenings after his shift work, he cruised the streets at will with only the dim light of his dashboard and the soft play of classical music from his radio. So far, the search for his witness had not produced any result, but by his own calculations, he had only covered a fraction of the city. He’d started his search in the university area on the off-chance his witness was a student, but so far, he had come up empty.
In contrast to the sprawling metropolis of Vancouver just across the Strait of Georgia, the city of Victoria had a reputation as a sleepy community; its populace was a unique mix of winter weary retirees from other parts of Canada and young, active families drawn to the outdoor west coast lifestyle. The city had its share of bars and clubs, of course, but it was better known for its many parks and walkways and was often referred to as the ‘garden city’ because of its proliferation of hanging flower baskets and manicured gardens.
It never ceased to amaze him that despite Victoria’s quiet reputation, a world unto itself sprang up when the majority of its residents were safely tucked in their beds. Wayward street people shuffled along with their overloaded grocery carts in their nightly quest for shelter; groups of rowdy, intoxicated teens made their presence known by their loud, obnoxious banter; and women of the evening plied their trade with tourists in the lower streets of the harbour. With virtually no effort on his part, he felt part of something – connected somehow to this nightly realm. It was the closest he had ever come to feeling like he belonged anywhere.
It was hard, however, not to get distracted, particularly when he came across a lone female because his hunting instinct would automatically kick in. It was only by virtue of his superior willpower that he managed to stay focused. He simply could not afford distractions at the moment. He knew at some point he would have to feed the need within him to keep it at bay, but for now, his witness was his top priority. And he knew the reward when he found her would be far sweeter than any he had experienced yet.
Oh, yes. This one was worth the wait.
Looking back, there was really no way Tess could have kept her ability hidden from Emmy. Without a doubt, her guardian had to be one of the most perceptive people she knew. At first, Tess wondered if Emmy could be psychic as well, but she soon ruled out such a notion. To her credit, Emmy was just extraordinarily observant. If Tess was quiet or upset, it didn’t take Emmy long to deduce why. It was probably due to the simple fact she noticed things most people didn’t; she paid attention to the little things.
Tess recalled it had been during their first fall together when Emmy figured things out. Tess had just started at school, one carefully chosen by Emmy – a small, private school that would provide a well-rounded education. In addition to personalized instruction, there was a strong music and arts program. Although Emmy had misgivings about sending Tess to school at all, she knew the importance of being around other children. After all, it wasn’t healthy for a young girl to be spending all of her time in the company of an old, eccentric spinster!
Emmy had been delighted with the news of a social studies project requiring Tess to work with a partner. However, it was just Tess’ luck her partner was another misfit, the result of everyone else pairing up. Tess and Amber Bolen had been left staring at one another, their blank expressions hiding the humiliation they both felt deep inside. However, they soon made the best of things as they were both conscientious students.
One rainy Sunday afternoon, Emmy invited the girls to work on their project while she baked them some cookies. If it was one thing Emmy believed in, it was that good food made just about any situation tolerable. On this particular afternoon, the two girls were bent over their masterpiece at the kitchen table – a map of Canada on which fur trading forts and routes were intricately laid out. Lost in her own thoughts while colouring, Tess began to feel vaguely nauseous. At first, she chided herself for having eaten too many of Emmy’s cookies, but she soon realized it had nothing to do with that. When the soft buzzing commenced in the back of her head, she knew for certain what was coming. Hanging her head, she closed her eyes and waited, oblivious to everything else save the blackness and the rhythm of the sound in her head. Alerted by some sixth sense many animals seem to possess, Bailey rose from lounging underneath the kitchen table to rest his head on his young mistress’ lap, emitting a soft whimper of concern. Tess stroked him absent-mindedly.
The first image slashed through the blackness much like lightning. It flashed and was gone in the same instant. Tess cocked her head, not understanding at first. When subsequent images unfolded in rapid succession, she began to piece together their meaning. Slowly she turned her head, and upon opening her eyes, she caught Amber staring at her. Even if Tess had wanted to, there was simply no way she could have hidden the horror written all across her own face. She was too young to fully understand what she had seen, of course, but what little she did know told her intuitively it was very, very wrong.
Amber, looking equally aghast, stood up from the kitchen table and stumbled backwards, never breaking eye contact while her hands desperately sought out the handle of the door to the mud room. Upon finding it, she spun around and yanked the door open, scooping up her coat and backpack in the process. She thrust her feet into her gum boots and literally burst out of the back door. Startled, Emmy looked up from her dishes at the sink to see Amber clattering down the porch steps. That poor child tore off across the lawn and down the street like she had the very devil at her heels. Emmy frowned and turned a puzzled eye towards Tess who simply hung her head.
For the next several days, Amber was not at school. When Tess inquired, her teacher paled and simply mumbled something about a family emergency. When days turned into weeks and still Amber did not return, people began to gossip. Tess caught wind of several rumours – Amb
er’s father, a prominent local businessman, had been arrested; Amber’s mother had been hospitalized; the Bolen house was up for sale. Because of all this turmoil, Tess felt a heavy burden of responsibility for whatever had befallen Amber’s family.
One night while she lay reading in bed, Tess looked up at the sound of Bailey’s whimper to see Emmy standing in the doorway, arms clasped behind her back, a gentle but concerned look on her weathered face. For a long moment, her guardian never said anything. When she finally did enter the room, she paused to pat Bailey affectionately on the head and then sat carefully on the edge of the bed. Once seated, it was obvious she needed to say something, but it was equally obvious she didn’t quite know how to say it. Finally, she began, “Tess, I’ve learned something about Amber Bolen.”
Tess tensed, praying her partner (she couldn’t exactly call her a friend) was alright.
“Amber’s mother has taken her and her little sister away.”
“Where?” Tess’ question came out like a croak.
“I believe to her mother’s in Toronto.”
“Why?”
“I think you know why, Tess. I think you knew weeks ago. I just can’t figure out how you knew,” Emmy said gently. Her uncharacteristic bluntness caught Tess off guard, and as a result, an awkward silence hung in the air between them. Emmy’s face was full of concern as she gently pressed, “How did you know her secret, Tess? You knew it that day in the kitchen, didn’t you? Without her even saying anything. Am I right?”
With that question, Tess flopped onto her side to face the wall, purposely turning her back to her guardian. There was a long pause during which Emmy heaved a weary sigh. “I know you feel bad about what has happened to Amber, but you must understand you are not to blame, Tess. What her father was doing was very wrong, and I can assure you, someday, Amber is going to thank you.”
When Tess still did not respond, Emmy rose from the bed and gave Bailey a good night pat as she headed for the door. Once there, she turned around and spoke to her ward’s huddled form. “I believe you have the gift of sight, Tess. I believe that’s how you knew.”
Again, Tess said nothing but her body tensed and that did not escape Emmy’s notice.
“Oh, I won’t bother you with any more questions tonight, but please don’t be afraid. I hope you can talk to me about it when you’re ready.” She turned to leave the room and then seemed to think better of it. Standing in the doorway, she added, “You may feel very alone with this, Tess, but please know I understand. I understand because my own mother had the very same gift.” And with that, she gently closed the door.
OCTOBER
Autumn in the Pacific Northwest was a glorious season. Unlike the rest of Canada where the long, lazy days of summer came to an abrupt halt with the onset of cooler temperatures and frost warnings as early as the beginning of September, the city of Victoria typically continued to enjoy fine weather. It wasn’t unusual to tend gardens and mow lawns right through to the end of October, sometimes even longer. When the temperatures finally did dip, the leaves on the trees that were green one day turned into a tapestry of blazing golds, oranges, and reds the next.
It was on one such warm fall day when Tess took a seat in Detective McLean’s office and sighed in exasperation. “How is it I spend a few minutes with a ring not belonging to the victim and I have a sighting, and yet now, when it’s so important I have one with the real ring, I can’t?” she sighed in disgust.
“You’re too hard on yourself, Tess.” Detective McLean came around to the front of his desk and leaned against it, arms folded. “It’s only been a week,” he added gently.
She looked up at him with such frustration and hopelessness, he experienced a pang of guilt for asking her to channel with the ring in the first place.
“I should never have asked you to try this,” he muttered, shaking his head.
She reached out to place her hand on his arm. “I agreed to try this. You didn’t force me.”
He smiled down at her, and for a second, she thought he would say something; instead, he rose and went around to sit behind his desk as if to purposely put some distance between them.
Awkwardly, she placed her hand back in her lap.
Finally, he spoke, “Do you think your lack of sightings has anything to do with your fear of this guy, Tess?”
His question broke the tension, and Tess gave it some thought. “I never thought of that, but I suppose it could be a factor.” She could not bring herself to confess her real fear – that the likely problem was her infatuation with the young detective himself. And unfortunately, she knew the possible consequences of such an attachment – she never had sightings when she was emotionally involved with someone. Take Emmy and Leah, for instance. Never in all their years together had Tess ever experienced a sighting involving either one of them. What a cruel twist of irony to be unable to help with the case simply because of her feelings for the young detective.
“In which case, we have to be prepared for the fact you may never have any more,” he advised.
“I guess that’s a possibility,” she admitted, sinking back in her chair. In a disheartened voice, she asked him, “I guess I’m not much help, am I?”
“You’ve been a big help, Tess, regardless of any more sightings,” he was quick to assure her. The seriousness in his voice made her look up, and for a long moment their eyes locked; however, the intensity of his gaze soon forced her to break eye contact. Not knowing what else to do, she changed the subject.
“Hey, I really put my foot in my mouth with Baxter, didn’t I?” she said staring at her hands in her lap. “I know my comment struck a nerve.”
“You couldn’t have known.” The young detective reclined in his chair. “It’s been hard on him this last year with his wife leaving.”
“Yeah, I figured that was the case. And now with his daughter and everything.”
“You know, in a strange way, their situation has actually pulled all of them together as a family,” he mused.
“I’m glad,” she smiled. Her sincerity seemed to puzzle him. “What?” she finally asked.
“You’re…refreshing,” he smiled broadly at her and her heart soared.
The shrill ringing of the phone interrupted them, and McLean reluctantly turned to answer it. Tess felt so flustered, she signalled her intention to leave by gesturing toward the door. Seeing her head out, McLean placed his hand over the receiver and called after her, “Thanks, Tess. And don’t worry. Give it some more time. Let’s see what happens.”
She nodded at him and smiled half-heartedly. Once out into the hallway, she shut the door and leaned heavily against it, closing her eyes and letting out a long sigh. She needed to collect her thoughts; her head was swimming. It wasn’t long before she heard a conspicuous cough. Upon opening her eyes, she spied Baxter standing there, one eyebrow raised. Mortified to be caught ‘mooning’ outside McLean’s door, she summoned what little dignity she had left and greeted him with as much cheer as she could muster.
“Hey, Baxter. How’s it going?”
“Fine. Everything alright?” he assessed her quizzically.
“Yeah. I’m fine, thanks. Just checked in with McLean. No sightings yet, but I’m trying,” she said as she smiled weakly at him. An awkward moment passed between them before Tess screwed up the courage to broach what was on her mind. “Hey, my comment about your wife…” she began.
“Don’t worry about it.” The dismissiveness in his voice was an obvious indication he was uncomfortable discussing his personal life. She figured as much.
Despite that, Tess felt compelled to apologize. “No, I was really out of line. It was hurtful, and I regret saying it. I…I hope you guys can work things out. I really do.”
A look of genuine appreciation crossed his face. “Thanks,” he mumbled.
She turned to leave and was half-way down the corridor before he called to her in a resolute voice, “We’re going to catch this guy, Tess.”
She nodded in
agreement, smiling inwardly at the way he’d said it, for he made it clear the ‘we’ included her.
It had only been a few months since the Bishop girl, and yet, the hunger ate away at him as it always inevitably did. Although he usually went much longer between kills, he had been experiencing a mounting need, one that would not leave him, one that gnawed at his gut day and night, giving him no peace. Even his faithful tabby cat had been a poor distraction, for she had been giving him the cold shoulder these days, almost as if displeased with his absences, she chose to punish him with her lack of affection. At first, he’d been hurt by her indifference, yet he was so consumed with the search for his witness, he hadn’t had much time to think about anything else. Stimulating as the search was, it was proving to be a daunting task, one even he was beginning to find taxing, although he would never admit it.
To distract himself, he had been making quick trips over to Vancouver on the mainland where he had been stalking a young prostitute. Although she plied her trade on any number of streets within a ten block radius, she was always dropped off in the same deserted alleyway in the wee hours of the morning. She was very young – he estimated sixteen or seventeen at most. And she was a scrappy little thing, able to hold her own against the hardened, street-wise dregs she hung out with. Her manner of dress offended him – cheap, skin-tight dresses; gaudy jewellery; knee-high black boots; and a ratty coat tossed carelessly across her shoulders like an after-thought, despite the chilly weather. Her lithe body, although on full display, held no appeal for him. It was her hair he had been drawn to – it was long and blonde. She wore it in a high pony-tail that swayed hypnotically to and fro with her constant scanning of the intersection in which she stood. He wondered briefly if it was a hair extension. He had yet to encounter one and would be most disappointed to do so.