In Her Mind's Eye

by Susan Gnucci

  Wasting no time, Tess rolled on to her stomach and began to probe methodically along the floor of the trunk, pulling back the carpet to check every square inch, relying solely on her sense of touch in the pitch blackness, determined to make one last, thorough search before they reached their destination. ‘No stone left unturned’ as Emmy would have said. After what seemed like ages, she almost cried with relief when her fingers came across a small loop of nylon fabric tucked under the far corner of the trunk. She pulled it back to reveal a small, hidden compartment behind the wheel well. Frantic now, she groped inside, searching and probing…

  The 911 call came in at 7:09 p.m. An elderly woman reported her husband had taken their dog for a walk earlier in the evening, and the dog had come back alone. Not only that, it was highly agitated – it kept running down the road as if attempting to lead its mistress somewhere. Alarmed, she had called 911, fearing her husband had suffered a heart attack or had taken a fall. Because the couple lived out in East Sooke, a rural community some forty kilometers southwest of Victoria, the RCMP had responded and was on scene.

  “You’re sure it’s the husband?” Baxter asked the RCMP constable as he knelt over the body that had been carelessly tossed in a wood shed on the remote rural acreage located down the road from the elderly couple’s farm.

  “Yup. Had his wallet on him and his dog led us straight here,” the constable replied matter-of-factly.

  “Did the wife say anything about who lives here?” Baxter stood up and flipped open his notebook.

  “Some guy’s been renting it for the last year. A real loner apparently. Kept to himself. They only knew him as Rick.”

  Baxter’s pulse quickened with this news, and yet, he was careful to guard his reaction.

  McLean, on the other hand, sucked in an audible breath. “Have you guys checked out the house yet?” he asked as he turned on his heel to leave.

  “They’re in there now,” the constable replied, but the young detective was already sprinting up the driveway.

  As he crossed the yard, McLean noted the old farmhouse on the property was in a dilapidated state. Its exterior was in sore need of a paint job, and the property in general looked like it had been left to fallow. The place had a sad, neglected air such that anyone passing by would naturally assume it was deserted. McLean flipped his badge at the constable who stood guard at the front door and didn’t even wait for Baxter to catch up before he entered the premises. He was immediately struck by how neat and tidy the interior was – an odd contrast to the exterior. Granted, there was very little furniture, but what there was, was tidily arranged. As he passed from room to room, one thing was glaringly obvious – the place was spic and span.

  An RCMP constable approached McLean in the kitchen and extended his hand in greeting, introducing himself in the process. McLean distractedly shook hands as his attention was riveted elsewhere – there was a large city map tacked up on the wall beside the window. Approaching it, he could see where a number of subdivisions had been crossed off – by his calculations, about a third of the city. Quickly scanning the Oak Bay neighborhood, his worst fears were confirmed when he found Tess’ street circled.

  “Looks like he was pretty methodical,” the constable confessed, coming up to stand behind the young detective. “And we’ve got something else downstairs you guys are definitely going to want take a look at.” From the stricken reaction of the young detective, the constable was quick to add, “Not another body, but come on.” He motioned and proceeded to lead the way down a back staircase into a dank, musty smelling basement, the type that had no doubt flooded many times over the years.

  As they descended the stairs, McLean was hit by a wave of nausea at the thought of Tess having been held captive in a place like this. It rolled over him so intense, he almost doubled over. As he leaned against the wall to collect himself, he felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he grimaced weakly at his partner who clapped him on the back and moved past him. Taking a deep breath, McLean followed with his heart in his throat.

  At the end of a long, narrow hallway, a single door stood ajar. There the constable waited. “You’ll note the door has two sliding bolts on the outside.” He pointed to two thick metal bolts. “Not only that though,” he explained as he swung the door open further, “it has a keyable lock on the inside.”

  “For what?” Baxter frowned.

  The constable shrugged his shoulders. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  McLean had to fight the sudden surge of bile at the back of his throat as he struggled to comprehend the reason for such a thing. Just what had that maniac done with Tess in this room? It made him sick to think of what she had possibly endured at his hands. Attempting to stay focused on his job, he entered the room and immediately spied the bars on the sole window. A single, stained mattress lay in one corner of the room, and a single chair stood near the door. Walking over to the mattress, McLean knelt to examine it and realized with relief the stains were not blood, but water marks.

  “Someone’s definitely been down here recently.” The constable pointed to the sink where a towel and a shampoo bottle sat. “The towel is still damp,” he remarked.

  As McLean crossed the room in order to scrutinize the items, something immediately caught his attention – several long strands of dark hair were clearly visible in the sink. His heart skipped a beat as he reached out to touch one of them. It all but confirmed Tess had been held here. Had her killer dispatched a nosy neighbour to guard that secret?

  “Have you searched the property yet? This looks like a large acreage,” Baxter asked the constable.

  “I’ve got men fanning out from the house, and I’ve called in our canine unit. It should be here any minute,” he assured them. “We found blood staining on the grass outside the window.”

  McLean’s head snapped up.

  “Judging by the blood on the old man’s skull, we presume it’s his, but forensics will confirm that.”

  McLean turned aside and winced, feeling guilty for hoping the blood belonged to the old man.

  Baxter, who had been pacing the room, paused and stood stroking his chin. He spoke as if to himself – “It doesn’t make any sense why our guy would waste valuable time disposing of Tess’ body any differently than the old man’s. And why would he take her body to dispose of it? To hide the fact she’s been here? Her DNA is likely all over this room.”

  “But why would he take the chance of moving her, Ed?” McLean asked dully.

  “Because he’s done it once before, Jay. Hell, maybe he sedated her again.”

  McLean had to admit his partner’s reasoning made sense, but a terrible thought dawned on him in that moment. Tess had told them once that this killer enjoyed his kills. Pressed for time, would he have moved Tess in order to kill her at his leisure? If so, where would he take her? He would have to backtrack to get to the island highway, crossing through several densely populated townships to do so. Would he take such a risk? A far simpler route would be to head up the west coast along Highway 14 – it had little traffic as it only serviced a few remote communities further up the rugged west coast of the island. And along its length, there were a number of secluded side roads and logging roads that would be ideal for their killer’s needs. McLean’s thoughts were interrupted by another RCMP officer who entered the room and passed something to the constable before departing.

  “Well, at least we’ve got a description of his vehicle,” the constable waived the paper in his hands. “The old man’s wife was able to describe it as a green older model sedan. She thinks it may be a Honda. We’ll get a bulletin out on it. Our crime lab guys and canine unit are also here, so I’ll need to brief them. Excuse me.” With that, he left the two detectives alone.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Jay, but there’s nothing we can do until first light,” Baxter warned his partner.

  “She may not have until first light, Ed,” McLean voiced the fear both men knew only too well. He then proceeded to
pace the room, thinking aloud, “If I was in his shoes, I’d head up Highway 14. Can we contact the Coast Guard? They fly with night vision and infrared systems on board, don’t they?”

  Baxter pursed his lips but nodded his approval. “All right, Jay. I’ll put in a call.”

  Left alone in the room, McLean struggled with the knowledge they had been so close. In all likelihood, they had missed Tess by less than an hour. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

  As the car started to slow, Tess’ breath hitched in her throat. When it finally rolled to a stop, she focused every ounce of concentration on what she could hear. It was several seconds before she heard his door open and then slam shut. She listened with a sinking feeling to his footsteps as they crunched their way along the side of the car. For a fleeting moment, she realized the irony of her situation – despite the fact she was facing death, she never felt more alive. It was as if all of her senses were on overdrive. She was never more aware of the blood coursing through her, of the kick of adrenaline, of her heart beating so wildly it felt like it would burst right out of her chest.

  The key scraped in the lock after which the trunk lid was lifted in a swift movement that caught her off guard. She only had a split second to orient herself because he reached for her almost immediately. Although the light was fading now that the sun had already set, it was brighter than the dark confines of the trunk, forcing her to squint and blink in an attempt to adjust. As he hauled her out of the trunk by placing his arms underneath her armpits, she was struck by the warmth of his touch. How could something so evil possibly feel warm? How could the same life force beating in her breast beat in his as well? Wasting no time pondering such a thing, she scanned her surroundings and her stomach plummeted. It was as she had suspected – they were in the woods, far from anywhere no doubt.

  Just then, something broke in her, and a frantic anger rose from deep within her. She discarded the pretence of being bound, shrugging off the rope, and in a swift, savage movement, she stripped off the tape from her mouth that she had replaced. “You promised we were just moving! You promised you wouldn’t hurt me!” She was furious at his betrayal.

  He looked thoroughly amused at her outburst. “Come now, Tess,” he chuckled as he shrugged nonchalantly. “You expected honesty?” Diverting her attention, he motioned to her cast-off bindings. “I knew from the very first you would be a challenge, my dear. I just knew it! Why, I’ve so thoroughly enjoyed our sport, I simply have to wonder if your good friend would prove as much fun. Now what was her name?” Putting a finger to his lips, he feigned forgetfulness. “Ah, yes. Leah. Such lovely blonde hair.”

  Tess stood rooted to the spot horrified at his words.

  “Ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself.” At this, he consulted his watch. “I’ll tell you what – I’ll give you a head start.” Witnessing her dumbfounded expression, he added, “I’d give you my word, but…” He shrugged his shoulders again and arched one eyebrow at her as if daring her to take up the challenge.

  She backed away from him and wasted no time in making a break for the cover of the woods, formulating no plan as she ran from him other than to put distance between them. It didn’t occur to her should she somehow elude him, survival in the west coast rainforest was a challenge in itself. And even if she had known this fact, it would not have changed her course of action. She would rather have taken her chances with the elements than with him any day of the week! Dying from exposure, although grisly in its own right, had to be less terrifying than dying at his hands.

  In the distance, she could hear him calling to her, taunting her. The undergrowth was thick and tangled, and as she plowed through it, she was certain he would be able to track her. In places, it was almost impossible to make any headway. The wind storms on the west coast could be savage in the winter, resulting in a number of trees, even large ones, toppled every year. Those decaying trees, rich in nutrients, provided nurseries for a new generation of seedlings that sprouted in wild abandon. They also created obstacles as she ran, taking precious seconds to scramble over or crawl under. Huge, leafy ferns carpeted the forest floor making it difficult to discern a stable foothold causing her to trip and fall at almost every turn. It didn’t help that this spring had been one of the wettest on record, creating a slick, almost slimy layer of moss on any exposed surface. Traveling a distance of only a few hundred feet had utterly drained her. Was he counting on that? But by the same token, he should be tiring as well, shouldn’t he? And she should be able to hear him moving through the forest, shouldn’t she? This logic forced her to slow her pace until she finally stopped to listen for him. She heard nothing but the odd call of a bird.

  Hope welled in her breast.

  Trying to think logically, she reasoned if she couldn’t hear him, he couldn’t hear her. And so, she started out once more. ‘Stay focused, Tess. Stay focused’, she coached herself. So intent was she on concentrating on her footing, she didn’t even notice the trees were thinning. It was only the difference in light that finally alerted her. As the sun had already set, the fading light filtering through the tree cover was dim at best, but over the last few minutes, it was actually becoming lighter. Pushing forward, she stumbled out of the treeline, not into a clearing as she had expected, but onto the shoulder of a logging road. Undoubtedly, it was the same road they had come in on. Her heart sank, for she had no way of knowing if she had simply gone around in a circle or if she had come upon the same road at another point in the woods. It was impossible to tell. She scanned first to her right and then to her left along the length of visible road, squinting in an attempt to discern the shape of a car pulled off to the side, but she saw none.

  She now faced a dilemma – either get back into the woods or follow the road. Slogging through the woods had been exhausting. She knew she would tire more quickly that way. However, the road was exposed; she’d be a sitting duck if he came along it. And she had no idea which direction to take. One way would no doubt lead her back to the car (for which she had no keys, she had to remind herself) and the other way would lead her deeper into the woods. Her thoughts were interrupted by a throat clearing…

  “My, my. You are an elusive little thing, aren’t you?” he drawled.

  As she swung around, she stared in disbelief at the figure standing before her only a short distance down the road. She wanted to scream out her frustration, but she would not give him the satisfaction. Instead, she turned abruptly on her heel and made a mad dash for the trees. Within a few minutes of entering the treeline; however, she stopped short. She knew it was useless to run. She knew he would track her. This was a game to him; one he had played countless times before; one he’d surely never lost. She could tire herself out some more, or she could make a last stand now while she still had some fight left in her. The choice was hard when every fibre of her being was screaming at her to flee, but instead, she stood her ground, hunched over with her hands on her knees attempting to catch her breath, scanning the surrounding trees for some sign of him. She didn’t have long to wait, for in no time at all, he emerged grinning and shaking his head.

  “Ah, Tess. You never cease to amaze me,” he chuckled.

  This was it. Her moment had come…

  “If you touch me,” she warned, “I’ll fight you with everything I have,” she declared, her face set in a mask of grim determination.

  “Ah, my dear girl. Such spunk! From you, I would expect nothing less.” His voice was like silk, and for a brief moment, she thought she caught a hint of something akin to admiration.

  In the next instant, she launched herself at him. After being at his mercy for so long, the look of utter astonishment on his face as she plowed into him was one of the most satisfying moments of her life, even though it may very well be one of her last. She slammed into him so hard they both flew through the air, landing with a muffled thud on the forest floor. She landed atop him so he was at a disadvantage, having had the wind temporarily knocked out of him. Gasping for breath, he glared up at
her with a look that was not only furious, but unspeakably murderous. He reminded her of some grotesque gargoyle, and she instinctively recoiled. Caught off guard, her defences down, she fell easy prey to his agility. Quickly regaining the upper hand, he flipped and straddled her.

  Now that the tables were turned in his favour, he sneered in triumph as he wrapped his hands around her neck. In that instant, she felt the full horror of her situation, and all reasoning left her as she flailed and clawed at him. Her struggles only seemed to incite him further, causing him to tighten his grip. She knew she had only seconds left when a sense of calm flooded through her. Clenching her fist, she landed a blow directly on his injured arm. Although he did not release his hold on her neck, he groaned in pain and leaned to one side in an attempt to avoid another strike. Now was her chance! With a super human effort, she pushed mightily with her feet, raising her hips slightly off the ground. Reaching behind her back, under her shirt…

  He never saw the blow coming. So focused was he on her desperation that seemed to fuel some sick need in him, he never saw the glint of steel as it caught a pale shaft of twilight and descended toward his temple. The blow hit its mark mightily, and he shrieked, a high-pitched wail of pain that echoed throughout the forest. One moment he was in his glory – the next, he lay motionless beside her.

  She rolled away from him, choking and gasping, sucking in the crisp, cool air in ragged, rasping breaths. Her hands reached up to her throat, frantically massaging it in an effort to coax air faster into her starved lungs. Lying on her back on the forest floor, the tangy scent of rotting vegetation stung her nostrils, bringing her back to her senses.

  Wasting no time, she made a feeble attempt to stand but ended up collapsing onto her knees in front of her captor, her eyes watering so badly she could barely focus. It was some time before she could speak, but when she did, she hurled her words at him – “Did I fail to mention,” she panted, “that I have a tire iron, you sick son-of-a-bitch?” She had a death grip on the spare tire iron she had found tucked away in that hidden compartment, and so forceful was the kick of adrenaline still coursing through her system, she was prepared to use it again if he so much as fluttered an eyelid.