In Her Mind's Eye

by Susan Gnucci

  Arthritic as he was, Bailey managed to jump up on the bed and gingerly pick his way across the comforter where he lay down between his mistress and Tess, almost as if he needed some closeness in order to grieve as well. And that’s how Leah found them both when she came to relieve Tess a short time later.

  The rest of the morning was a blur of phone calls and arrangements, most of which Leah handled. It was weeks before Tess could even bear to enter Emmy’s room. Every time she stood on the threshold, her arms folded across her chest, her head resting against the door frame, she was overcome by an intense wave of grief. Leah offered to go through Emmy’s things and box them up, but Tess insisted she needed to do that in her own time.

  When she finally summoned up the strength to sort through Emmy’s personal possessions, Tess closed her eyes and drew comfort from the familiar smell in her guardian’s bedroom. She was pleased it still smelled like Emmy – the delicate scent of lavender was everywhere. Crossing over to the dresser in the far corner of the room, Tess picked up the framed picture of Emmy’s beau who had died back in the war. The photo showed a handsome young man sitting on a picnic blanket on the bluff overlooking the ocean, knees drawn up, arms resting casually around them. She wondered if he had been staring out at the water when someone had called his name to take the photo, for it captured a faint smile on his lips and a wistful expression on his face. What had he been thinking? Had Emmy taken the picture? Tess gave in to a strong desire to remove the photo from its frame. As she did so and turned it over, she found a name and date written in Emmy’s fluid handwriting –

  My dearest Charles

  August 1941

  Halfway into town from the ferry, a sinking feeling settled over him as it dawned on him he had somehow lost his witness. He pulled off the highway at the next exit and parked on a side street, trying to collect his racing thoughts. Had she stopped for gas? Had she turned off the highway? He had only passed a few exits – should he retrace his route and search those?

  It suddenly occurred to him she could have channeled him, and with such a possibility, came the very real fear the police could be setting up a road block for him this very minute. He was sorely disappointed to give up the chase, but now that his sixth sense had been alerted, he trusted it implicitly. Carefully winding his way over to a secondary road in order to connect to the one he needed to take, he reluctantly made his way home.

  It took another forty minutes to reach his rented farmhouse, for it was situated on a large acreage southwest of the city. Located in a sparsely populated rural area, it was perfect for his needs. He had few neighbors, and the ones he did have were hard working farmers who had little time for socializing. That suited him just fine.

  Entering his bedroom this evening, he threw himself dramatically onto his bed landing on his back, the bedsprings squeaking loudly in protest. His faithful tabby cat jumped gracefully onto the mattress with him, circling lazily before settling down beside him, purring in contentment and seeking a greeting. No longer annoyed with his absences now that she was used to them, she was back to being her affectionate self. He lay for a long time staring vacantly at the ceiling with one hand clasped behind his head, the other stroking his beloved cat. He chided himself at his lack of control over his emotions. How uncharacteristic of him. She did this to him.

  Finally, he rose with a sigh and set about fixing his cat something to eat. Making her needs clear, the tabby paced the countertop, her tail swishing to and fro with avid interest at the meal being laid out before her. “There you go, my pet,” he drawled as he set the dish of cat food down onto the linoleum. “I’ve neglected you all weekend, haven’t I? No matter. I’m back now, and we shall visit just as soon as you’ve had your supper.”

  Settling into his armchair in the living room, he flipped on the television, annoyed at having missed the late news. As he sat there half listening, a fleeting recollection came over him. Like a leaf swirling in the wind, it danced tantalizingly close, and then at the last second, it whirled just out of reach. Knowing if he chased it, it would elude him, he closed his eyes and sat back in his chair to clear his mind.

  After several minutes of quiet meditation, the memory fluttered and gently settled, and as it did so, a slow, lazy smile crept over his face. He had seen her before – the blond woman. A memory of her replayed in his mind. She was a reporter. He was certain of it. He had seen her on several local news features. Why hadn’t he remembered that? He was very good with faces, but he realized she looked quite different in person from her broadcast persona – she was even lovelier. He vowed to watch the early news tomorrow in the hope of catching one of her pieces, but he already knew he was right. And he knew with equal certainty she would be the key to finding his witness.

  Tess was thrilled to hear the obvious concern in McLean’s voice when she phoned him from the cul-de-sac in which she and Leah were parked after fleeing from the killer off the ferry. Although surprised to hear from her, he immediately took charge of the situation, calmly directing her to backtrack towards the ferry in order to cross over the highway so they could take the scenic waterfront route into town. It was precautionary, he said, and he stayed on the phone with her the whole time, putting her on hold only once to call Baxter.

  It was late by the time they arrived home, almost 11:30 p.m., but both McLean and Baxter were there waiting for them. Despite the hour and the interruption to their own lives, they were both anxious to hear the details of the girls’ encounter with the killer. Before entering the house, however, Tess and Leah were made to wait at the front door while the two detectives checked out every room from top to bottom. Only once they were satisfied all was clear did they allow everyone to settle into the parlour.

  It was hard for Tess to concentrate on relating the events of their ferry ride because she was positively giddy in McLean’s presence. It was so good to see him again. She was badly shaken by her brush with the killer, which in itself would have made it hard to focus on anything, but on top of that, Tess was also distracted by the worry written all over McLean’s face. That, combined with the late hour, virtually made her head spin. It was Leah who kept having to prompt Tess on specifics and keep her on track as the detectives busily made notes.

  Tess was keenly disappointed with the fact her sighting had taken place in the interior of the killer’s car because it meant she was unable to describe the make or model. The only things she had ‘seen’ were his grimly determined face behind the steering wheel and a mobile of sorts dangling from the rear view mirror. She was able to describe his changed appearance – darker hair stuffed under a woollen hat and a thick, bushy beard.

  Grudgingly, Tess agreed to surveillance on her house at McLean’s insistence, hopeful he would be the first to volunteer. She had to temper her disappointment when he did not. No doubt, routine stuff like that was assigned to junior officers. Never one to hide her feelings very well, especially when she was stressed, she grew suddenly quiet, prompting McLean to throw her a quizzical look.

  “I’m sorry. I’m really tired,” she smiled weakly. She looked over at Leah, who by now was curled up on one end of the settee dozing, an exhausted, worried expression marring her otherwise lovely face.

  “Sure. We understand, Tess. I think that’s enough for tonight anyway,” McLean informed her. As if on cue, both men rose to leave.

  “Tess, even though it’s a long shot he knows who you are or where you live, we could forget the surveillance and you could consider…”

  Baxter didn’t have time to finish his sentence before Tess interrupted him. “I’m not going anywhere, Baxter. You can’t get rid of me so easily.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans and smiled bravely at him. “Besides, I’m helping with the investigation, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, of course. You’ve been a big help, Tess,” McLean assured her, laying a hand on her shoulder as if to convince her.

  From that simple touch, she was surprised by the vulnerability of her voice when she found it. �
�Besides, I have nowhere to go.”

  “No family? No friends? Nowhere out of town?” McLean asked gently.

  “No, and anyway, I can’t just leave my program. I have labs to teach and my supervisor is counting on me to help with his research.”

  “What about Leah?” Baxter nodded to her sleeping form.

  Tess’ head snapped up. “What about her? You don’t think…?”

  “Does she have anywhere to go?”

  “Her parents live down east. I suppose she could go there for a while, but I doubt she would leave me. We’re like sisters.” Tess worried her lower lip and frowned. “But I couldn’t live with myself if anything were to happen to her.”

  “Does she have a boyfriend she could stay with then?” Baxter asked.

  “None that I know of,” she replied dryly, mildly annoyed he hadn’t asked the same question of her.

  “We don’t have to decide this right now, Tess. It’s late. Talk to Leah in the morning.” McLean headed for the front door. “I’m going to place some calls to get a surveillance team over here tonight. They’ll be in an unmarked car so as not to alert your neighbours.”

  “Are you kidding me? This is Oak Bay.” She shook her head and chuckled. “I’ll place bets old Mrs. Peterson will be over here first thing in the morning.” Her remark served to break the tension.

  By the time the surveillance team arrived, it was almost 2:00 a.m. and Tess was utterly exhausted. Noting that Leah hadn’t budged, she threw a blanket over her friend and left her in peace. At the front door, Baxter gave Tess a curt nod in passing and went out to give the surveillance team their instructions for the night. Left standing in the foyer, Tess massaged her temples, her expression pensive.

  “Are you OK?” McLean came up behind her.

  “I don’t know,” she frowned. “I sense something with this guy, McLean. I haven’t been able to put my finger on it until just now,” she replied wearily.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The mobile in his car. It was a mobile of a cat. I get the distinct feeling there’s some connection with this guy and animals.” Tess shook her head as though annoyed with herself. “I can’t pick up on more than that, but I definitely sense some connection.” She looked up at him and frowned again.

  “OK, Tess. Good to know. It’s hard to believe this psycho could be an animal lover when he thinks nothing of snuffing out someone’s life.”

  “Yeah, I thought these guys start out by torturing or killing animals.” Tess seemed to be thinking out loud. “McLean…”

  “Yes.”

  Her composure suddenly broke and she looked up at him with an imploring look. “I’m so afraid…” Her voice was disarmingly child-like and it took the young detective close to the breaking point.

  Moving closer to her than was prudent, he lowered his head toward her, his voice low and intimate. “Hang in there, Tess. We’re going to get this guy.” Despite his apparent confidence, he winced inwardly, knowing how hollow his reassurance really sounded.

  Looking up at him, she slowly shook her head. “He’s going to hunt again, McLean. I just know he is. And I don’t think I can handle seeing that, let alone have it on my conscience.”

  Taking her by the shoulders, his voice tight with emotion, the young detective assured her, “Hey, listen. You are not to blame for what that maniac does.”

  “I know, but I’m tied to him all the same,” she attempted to explain. “It’s like being bound together with a length of rope. There’s just enough lead that I’m able to stay out of his way, but it’s awful being tethered to him. I feel…I feel tainted,” she confessed. Looking up into his handsome face, Tess battled against a strong desire to lean against him, to feel his solid presence against her. There were times in her life like tonight when she would have given anything just to be held.

  “You’re the key to nabbing this guy, Tess. I know it. And we’re going to keep you safe; you hear me? He’s not going to get that close to you again.” McLean struggled to keep his voice from wavering.

  “You don’t understand,” she replied despairingly, “He already is.”

  Just then, Baxter returned for his partner, forcing McLean to release his hold on Tess, which in turn prompted raised eyebrows from the senior detective. McLean ignored the look and brushed past, his head down.

  Losing Emmy had not only been incredibly hard on Tess, it had been equally hard on Bailey. Although he loved Tess and was fiercely protective of her, his mistress was and always had been, Emmy. Without her, he just seemed to lose all interest in things. For years, he’d slept on the floor by Tess’ bed and he still did so most nights, but now in the wee hours of the morning, he would rise stiffly from sleep and trot into Emmy’s room. Tess would find him there, curled up on Emmy’s bed. Somehow that poor arthritic dog could still make it up onto the bed. Tess was at a loss as to how to ease his grief when she could barely deal with her own.

  Leave it to Leah to see the humour in the situation. She commented dryly how Emmy would have thrown a fit to see a dog up on the bed. Tess agreed, but she just didn’t have the heart to discipline the poor thing when it was abundantly clear he only sought closeness with his mistress, and so she left him there, respectful of his need, feeling it keenly herself. Sometimes he would open his eyes at her as she stood in the doorway – he wouldn’t raise his head at all, but would just stare at her with his big, sad eyes and whimper softly. In response, Tess would curl up beside him and stroke him lovingly, offering what simple comfort she could.

  As the days passed, Tess and Leah tried to coax Bailey out of his depression with delicious little tidbits and treats, and although he never failed to gobble them up, he simply wasn’t the same dog anymore. Granted, he was almost fifteen years old, but up until Emmy’s passing, he had always been an active, healthy animal. With her death, it was as if he had aged overnight, and no amount of pampering was going to restore his zest for living.

  To cope with Emmy’s loss, Tess spent countless hours down at the beach. Sometimes Leah accompanied her, but more often than not she headed there alone, unable to coax Bailey to go with her. She thought it ironic the weather was so glorious, almost as though Emmy had a hand in it in order to cheer her. It was therapeutic for Tess to sit on the beach with the cool sand between her toes and the warm ocean breeze wafting through her hair. Rather than distress her, her memories of days spent at the beach gave her comfort. It was the place she felt closest to Emmy.

  One night, Tess woke from a deep slumber, rising to consciousness slowly as if from a great depth. Gradually, she took in her surroundings – the moonlight streaming through her thin curtains, the familiar contours of the furniture in her room, the door ajar just as she’d left it. She was chilled. Had that woken her? Pulling the covers up to her chin, she burrowed deeper into the warmth of her bed. She could not relax, however, as a nagging feeling would not leave her. An uneasiness she could not name settled over her, and she finally leaned over the edge of her mattress in an attempt to gain a view of the rug at the foot of her bed. It was empty. She frowned and lay back against her pillow.

  Sighing heavily, she threw back the covers and climbed out of bed, muttering at her foolishness in chasing after an old dog who just wanted to be alone anyway. Tiptoeing down the hallway, she turned to enter Emmy’s room, fully expecting to see Bailey curled up as he often was on the bed. When she noted he wasn’t there, she was puzzled. He wouldn’t be in with Leah, would he? Stepping quietly across the hall, she peered into Leah’s bedroom. It took a minute for her eyes to scan the room, but she soon came to realize Bailey wasn’t there either.

  Awareness dawned slowly, and with it, a sense of utter despair flooded through her. Retracing her steps, she returned to Emmy’s room and stood for several minutes in the doorway, struggling to find the courage she needed. She contemplated waking Leah so at least she would have some support, but something held her back. Instead, she entered Emmy’s room and quietly closed the door behind her, leaning heavily agai
nst it for support. After a full minute, she took a deep, steadying breath and moved into the room to stand beside the bed. Dropping down on all fours and squeezing her eyes shut, she carefully lifted the bed skirt and lowered her head. She didn’t even have to look, for she instantly knew the smell of him – that sweet mixture of fur and mustiness. Hanging her head, she sank to her stomach and gave in to her anguish.

  She was brought back to reality some moments later by the cold hardness of the floorboards. Once again, she reached out to lift the bed skirt, this time tucking it up under the mattress. Steeling herself against the inevitable, she looked under the bed – there lay Bailey barely a hand’s breadth away, still and silent.

  Tess reached out, her hand shaking visibly, to touch his paw. As she did so, she groaned at the lack of warmth she found there. For several minutes, she stroked his fur and whispered words of endearment to him. She knew, of course, he could no longer hear her, but she felt compelled to say them anyway. And she thanked him, for he, like his mistress, had been instrumental in saving her life.

  Later that week, Tess and Leah held a solemn ceremony for the cremated remains of their faithful companion and spread his ashes off the bluff overlooking the ocean as they had done for his mistress only months before.

  It wasn’t until several days after the ferry incident when his suspicions were actually confirmed. The blonde woman reported on a local bike race on the evening news. She did indeed look quite different than she had on the ferry. Her hair was swept up in a stylish bun, and she sported a professional-looking skirt and blazer. Leah. Her name was Leah McKinnon. A smile broke over him as a feeling of triumph washed over him. He leaned back in his recliner and savored the exquisite feeling for several minutes before setting his mind to planning.

  What to do? What to do? If he abducted this Leah, he was certain she would tell him where to find his witness, but her disappearance would only alert the police who would undoubtedly step up their campaign to find him. They would also probably place his witness under protective custody at that point, effectively blocking his access to her. He had to wonder if they already had her under any kind of surveillance.