In Her Mind's Eye

by Susan Gnucci

  “It’s because we’re looking in the wrong place,” McLean stated dully, staring blankly out his window at the passing scenery. “He doesn’t live anywhere near Sidney, Ed. He may work there, but he sure as hell doesn’t live there.”

  McLean’s logic made sense and Baxter ran with it. “Where then?”

  “My guess is somewhere rural. Somewhere isolated. Somewhere with few neighbors to get in the way. Maybe up in the Highlands or out in Sooke.”

  “Alright. I’ll get our guys to canvass out there. Somebody has got to know this guy.” Baxter shook his head, irritation bristling in his voice.

  “Do you think she’s even still alive, Ed?” McLean finally asked the question they had both been pondering all day. “It’s been four days,” he stated flatly.

  “I’m not even going to go there, Jay.” Baxter shook his head but failed to bolster even his own sagging doubts.

  They rode in silence for several minutes before Baxter could no longer stand the tension. Attempting to distract his partner’s train of thought, he asked, “Hey, Jay, you wanna know why I think he took her?” When his partner didn’t respond, he continued anyway, “I think this guy’s probably lived his whole life as an outsider. I’d lay odds he was the kid in school everyone kicked around. And I’d bet he took it too, took the abuse. And now he’s found someone out there who’s just like him. Someone who knows what it’s like to be different.” When he noted the lack of response from his young partner, Baxter continued, “Don’t you see, Jay? That could buy us some time…”

  The vet clinic was located on the outskirts of Sidney, a quaint, picturesque municipality some twenty minutes north of Victoria. Often referred to as a seniors’ community, it attracted retirees from all over Canada who were drawn there by its small-town feel and mild climate. It offered a quiet, unhurried lifestyle where you could get to know your neighbors, and you weren’t afraid to walk the streets at night.

  As the two detectives approached the clinic, they were careful to park their unmarked car well down the block as an added precaution. They had arranged to meet with the owner at 4:00 p.m., two hours before their suspect was due for his shift. Despite knowing his alias, they knew virtually nothing else for their efforts other than where he worked. This sting had to net him.

  As the detectives entered the clinic, an uneasiness settled over McLean, leaving him feeling queasy as though he’d eaten something that hadn’t agreed with him. He tried to shake off the feeling and chalked it up to nerves, but it persisted. He prayed his misgivings were wrong, but from his experience, he knew that when everything rode on only one thing, it invariably went wrong.

  A bell attached to the front door chimed announcing their entry. The clinic although small was bright and cheery. Posters of dogs, cats, birds, hamsters, and every other kind of pet imaginable adorned the walls in the sitting area. From the back room, a rather young, bald man appeared and smiled at them, extending his hand in greeting as he approached.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Detectives Baxter and McLean, I presume.”

  Both detectives shook the man’s hand. “You’re Dr. Anderson?” Baxter asked with surprise.

  “Yes, I am.” At this, the vet nodded towards the back. “I’ve let my staff leave early today as you requested except for Alex who will leave by 5:30. I would prefer to stay on the premises if that’s permitted. We have several sick animals in house, and I don’t want to leave them.”

  “Sorry, Doc, not possible, but let’s coordinate how we’re going to handle this.” Baxter sounded much like a school teacher addressing a student.

  The vet frowned slightly as he escorted them to the rear of the clinic into his office. On the way, he called to an employee who appeared in gown and gloves and directed the man to monitor the front desk. “I don’t want to be interrupted for the next hour, Alex, unless it’s an emergency.” The vet’s tone was warm but authoritative.

  “No problem, Dr. Anderson,” the employee replied, giving the two detectives a curious perusal as he disappeared down the hall. If he was suspicious of the two men in suits or wondered why the clinic was seriously understaffed on this particular afternoon, he did not ask any questions.

  As the vet closed his office door, he caught Baxter’s off-hand remark. “Either I’m gettin older or they’re crankin these guys out of med school younger and younger!”

  Dr. Anderson conspicuously cleared his throat and sat down at his desk with a tight smile. “I’m 38 this year Detective, but I’ll take that as a compliment,” he commented dryly. “Now, may I ask what your interest is in Roy? I wasn’t here this afternoon when your officers came to the clinic, but I understand they went to Nora’s house to speak with her.” The vet looked back and forth between the two detectives.

  “He’s a person of interest in a disappearance we’re investigating,” Baxter’s tone was brusque, not rude per se, but curt enough to squelch any further inquiries. The vet took the hint and sat back in his chair in apparent acceptance but commented all the same, “You know, I’ve never had any trouble with Roy. None whatsoever. He’s reliable and he does his job well with no complaints. He’s reserved, yes, and he minds his own business, but that’s not a crime. I just want to say that up front.”

  “Duly noted, Doc. Now, you told us this Roy has worked for you for, what was it? Less than a year?” Baxter’s tone was sarcastic, and he made a show of fumbling through his notepad and readying his pen.

  “Yes, I hired him last summer. I know that’s not a lot of time to really know a person, but I do know Roy is genuinely good with animals and that often translates to a caring personality.” He raised his eyebrow as if to invite any further comment.

  “OK, so the guy’s a peach, but we still need to speak with him,” Baxter retorted. “Now, does this look like him?” He produced a copy of the sketch from the folder in his hand and passed it to the vet.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Dr. Anderson exclaimed. “This is what you have to go on? This could match any number of thin, middle-aged men.” After examining the sketch further, he added, “And besides, Roy has a prominent scar on his face, here.” He traced his finger along the right cheekbone. “Even with his beard, it’s hard to miss,” he advised them. Holding the sketch closer, he frowned. “I’ve seen this sketch recently. It’s in relation to some missing woman, isn’t it?” he asked, comprehension dawning. “Is that what all these measures are for?”

  Baxter simply shrugged matter-of-factly.

  The vet shook his head and frowned again as he handed the sketch back. “I’m sorry detectives; I just can’t believe Roy is mixed up in anything like that. He’s a gentle, quiet person.”

  “Still waters run deep, Doc.” Baxter fired back. “Now look, we’re obligated to follow every lead, so let’s just check this out. If he’s not our man, then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “But if he is…” The vet looked aghast at the thought. “Then Nora…” he gasped, his voice full of concern.

  “We’ve spoken with Nora. If he is our guy, she’s probably done the smart thing not to engage him. She’s given us some information. We understand, for instance, he’s punctual for his shifts.”

  “Yes,” the vet massaged his temple and attempted to focus on the detective’s comment. “I’m not usually here during his shift, but on the occasions when I am, he actually arrives a few minutes before his shift.”

  Baxter continued with his line of questioning. “Do you know how he gets to work?”

  “I’m quite sure he takes the bus. I’ve offered to give him a ride home now and then when I’ve had to work late, but he always politely declined, saying the walk to the bus did him good.”

  As the vet explained all this, McLean’s thoughts raced. If this was their guy, there was no way he would take the bus and risk establishing a routine from which he could be identified by the driver or by other passengers. And they already knew he had used a car to abduct Tess. A quick check of vehicle registrations, however, had not produced
anything under the name, Roy Lange. Undoubtedly, that was only one of many aliases he used.

  McLean was jolted out of his reverie by Baxter clearing his throat. “Now, when he comes on shift, does he enter through the front door or the back entrance?” Baxter asked.

  “Back.”

  “Always?”

  “Always. There is no need for him to come in the front. As you saw, that is the reception area,” the vet replied, a slight annoyance audible in his voice by this point.

  “Good. Once he arrives on shift, what does he do? Does he punch in? Does he get changed? Does he scrub up?” Baxter fired off questions in rapid succession.

  “He knows the routine, but he always greets the animals first. He’s always eager to see them.”

  McLean interrupted with a different line of questioning. “How easy are your records to check? Do you have everything stored electronically?”

  “Why, yes. Nowadays, we enter everything on the computer.” The vet was wary where this was leading.

  “How are they filed?”

  “By the pet owner’s name. Why?”

  “If I gave you a person’s surname, could you look up on your computer and tell me if anyone by that surname ever brought their pet in here?” McLean knew he was grasping at straws, but he also knew most leads in an investigation were where you least expected them to be.

  “Our electronic records on this computer date back to 2000. If it’s been since then, then yes, I could tell you.”

  “Have you ever had a customer by the name of Bishop?” McLean asked.

  The vet regarded him for a moment with a vague uneasiness.

  “I could get a search warrant, but that would take time we don’t have,” McLean said in a voice tight with strain.

  The vet decided his cooperation would undoubtedly speed things along, so he turned to the computer on his desk, and in a matter of minutes produced a result. “I have two Bishops in the system.”

  “Any by the given name George or Sandra or even Katie?”

  “No, none of those names,” the vet looked up at both detectives, his face registering shock. “Surely you aren’t referring to that murdered teenager?” he asked. “I was out of town when that happened last year, but I’ve heard about her case. You can’t be serious you suspect Roy had anything to do with a murder in addition to this missing woman?”

  “We can’t comment, Doc,” Baxter flatly informed the vet.

  McLean wasn’t at all surprised by the findings. He doubted this killer would risk any connection to his victim, however remote, but it had been worth a shot. Quickly switching gears, he focused on another line of questioning. “How likely would it be for Mr. Lange to get his hands on a sedative?”

  Dr. Anderson frowned and shook his head. “Not very likely. We have strict inventory control procedures and a pass-coded med room.” Having said that, he looked between the two detectives and was forced to admit, “But I suppose anything is possible if a person is clever enough.”

  “Going over inventory records will take time we don’t have, Jay,” Baxter pointed out, turning his attention back to the vet. “So here’s what we’re gonna do, Doc. My partner and I will be on the premises when the suspect…ah, when Mr. Lange enters. The front entrance is going to be locked so we don’t lose him out of that access point. And we’ll have the building surrounded.”

  “The minute he enters the building, he’s ours,” McLean assured the now worried man sitting across from them.

  “You don’t understand. I’m still unconvinced about Roy, but if what you suspect is true, then I am concerned for my animals.” The vet’s gaze drifted toward his office door. “I don’t think he’d harm them, of course, just that any altercation could frighten them. I’d like to check their cages to be sure they’re secure.”

  “Fill your boots, Doc,” Baxter quipped.

  As the worried vet proceeded to inspect the cages and tend to some of the sicker animals, the two detectives checked in with their back-up officers. There were no sightings of the suspect, but they still had another hour to go. A team of police officers were out of sight in neighboring buildings, and plainclothes officers were stationed at the closest bus stops, just in case. No matter which direction the suspect came from, he would be spotted well before entering the clinic.

  It was an agonizing wait. For the first time in his career, McLean wasn’t sure he could control himself when he came face to face with this guy. And even if they did nab him, the creep was unlikely to admit to anything, least of all Tess’ whereabouts. Was she even still alive?

  On his drive to work that evening, he spent time reflecting on Tess’ failed escape plan. He would never admit it, of course, but shearing her hair had been a simple matter of payback. Because he considered such primitive emotions as revenge to be beneath him, he was able to rationalize his actions – if he was going to keep her around, she needed to be taught a lesson. After all, he couldn’t very well have her running the show, now could he? He smirked when he recalled her defiant reaction. It pleased him immensely that she was a fighter. Oh, he could still sense her fear because she couldn’t hide it entirely, but her bravado amused him no end.

  His thoughts were cut short as he approached his exit off the highway. He’d continued to work his shifts at the vet clinic even after the abduction for the simple reason he loved the animals he cared for. He also knew it was unwise to alter any routine because such a course of action might only serve to attract notice.

  When it came to getting to work, he was exceedingly careful. The bus would have entailed several transfers, not to mention it was a routine he could not risk establishing. Instead, he took his car and always varied his route, sometimes taking the main highway, sometimes taking any number of secondary roads. The vet clinic in which he worked was located on the outskirts of Sidney, and he always parked his car far enough away that he doubted anyone would make a connection to the clinic. And to be doubly careful, he always varied where he parked his car.

  As he was pressed for time this evening, he decided to take the main highway leading directly up the peninsula to Sidney. Once having taken the appropriate exit off the highway, he grew annoyed at the pace of traffic that had slowed to a crawl through a construction zone. As he sat drumming his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, he spied a familiar face in the car approaching him through the traffic light – it was Dr. Anderson. He immediately pulled his hat lower on his head and reached over on the pretence of accessing the glove compartment, making sure he remained that way until the vet’s car had passed by. He needn’t have worried for Dr. Anderson was preoccupied, talking animatedly on a cell phone the whole time.

  While it had only taken a few seconds for the vet’s car to pass, it was as though a residue had been left in its wake, a residue he immediately picked up. And that was when he knew. He simply knew.

  It was the doorbell! Tess was positive she had heard the doorbell. At first, she thought she was imaging it as she’d been dozing when she became aware of it, but there it was again – someone was ringing the doorbell! With this realization, she rose quickly from her mattress and stood listening intently in an effort to figure out if the caller was at the basement door. With dismay, she realized it was someone at the front door. Her heart sank.

  Despite the slim chance of anyone being able to hear her, she made a rush for the door to her room, landing against it with a muffled thud, almost knocking the wind out of herself in the process. Pounding wildly, she began shouting as loudly as she could. She knew her captor was not at home. She had heard him leave at his usual hour earlier in the day, and when he’d done so on the previous three afternoons, he hadn’t come home until late. Even if he had returned while she’d been dozing, she no longer cared. After a minute, she paused to catch her breath, willing herself to calm her laboured breathing in order to concentrate on what she could hear. Straining her ears for the slightest sound…she was met with deafening silence.

  Gradually, she became aware of the th
umping of her own heart as it slammed against her ribcage. Dropping her forehead against the door, she stood motionless for several seconds in the vain hope she would hear the bell again. When she did not, she became aware of her tensed muscles, and upon releasing them, it was as if they gave way causing her to slump against the door and sink slowly to the cold concrete floor. Hanging her head between her knees, she began to weep.

  How cruel to be that close to a possible rescue, to be so close to safety and sanity, and yet be kept from it. She wished bitterly she had never even heard the doorbell, that she could have slept right through it. At least, she wouldn’t have gotten her hopes up. To have them dashed, on top of everything else she’d had to endure, was almost more than she could bear.

  Minutes passed and then she heard something. Realizing it was a dog barking, she discounted it – a dog could not have rung the doorbell. Soon after though, she was able to detect the faint but unmistakable sound of someone calling. Was it the person at the door? Had they heard her? Were they investigating? With hope beating wildly in her breast, she scrambled to her feet and moved to stand underneath the sole window in her room. Taking a deep breath, she began to scream again in earnest. She kept it up for a full half minute and then paused. She waited some more…still nothing.

  Snatching the chair from the middle of the room and placing it underneath the window, she clambered onto it. Grabbing hold of the bars, she stood on tiptoe so she could scan the ground directly in front of the window. At the same time, she frantically shouted, “Help! Help me, please! I need help. Is anyone there?”

  Frustrated, she relaxed her grip on the window bars and sank back on her heels. Just as she did so, a brief movement in her peripheral vision prompted her to turn her head, her face full of hope. A large golden retriever approached the window, its tail wagging in obvious interest. He stood assessing her full of curiosity and sniffed at the pane of glass, his wet nose leaving a dirty smudge print. Cocking his head at Tess as though he didn’t know quite what to make of her, he barked a greeting.