by Susan Gnucci
“Geez, you scared me half to death!” Tess muttered as she reached out to stroke the tabby cat. In spite of being annoyed, she was actually glad of the company. True, she had just been terrified by her encounter with a ‘big cat’, but the one purring contentedly before her seemed harmless enough. Winnifred obviously held no grudge against Tess for injuring her master.
Too afraid to get out of the car in order to get into the driver’s seat, Tess scrambled over the front seat to settle herself behind the steering wheel. Only then was she able to experience any sense of relief. Pausing only a few seconds to calm her frayed nerves, she dug into her jean pocket for the car keys, determined to get to safety as quickly as possible.
Her stomach dropped – the keys weren’t there! She frantically checked both pockets, but it was true – the keys were gone!
Tess collapsed back in her seat, tears of frustration welling up in her eyes. ‘Think, Tess! Think!’ she berated herself. ‘What would you have done with them?’
She wracked her brain and painstakingly went over the sequence of events leading up to the cougar attack. She remembered she’d been holding the keys in her hand when she’d heard the cougar…That meant the keys were out there. It was the only explanation. She must have dropped them! She felt sick with fear at the thought of going back out there, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t very well just sit there when her captor could regain consciousness at any moment. And who knows how long it would be before anyone came along the logging road? If anyone came along at all.
She knew she could attempt to hotwire the car using the tire iron to access the ignition wires. Although this idea was tempting, she was aware she would be in big trouble if she only succeeded in damaging the ignition cover. Knowing the keys were out there only steps from the car, she made the decision to search for them. If all else failed, then she could always try her hand at hotwiring.
Steeling herself, she opened the car door cautiously and stepped out onto the gravel road, her heart slamming violently against her chest as she did so. With deliberate care, she reached behind her back and pulled the tire iron out of her waistband just in case. Noting the cougar’s blood on one end, she wiped it off as best she could on her jeans. She needed to have a firm grasp – her life could depend on it.
Shielded by the car door, she paused and scanned the place where the cougar had disappeared into the treeline in a desperate attempt to see into the shadows. Nothing. She strained to hear any movement. Nothing. Not wanting to trigger a hunting instinct if the cougar was indeed still lurking out there, she knew she must not run. As she turned to step away from the car, she realized she had a death grip on the door. At first, she thought of closing it, but if the cougar attacked again, she would at least be able to make a dive for the interior and not waste precious seconds having to swing the door open. Peering into the interior of the car, she wanted to make sure Winnifred was not following her. She needn’t have worried. Seemingly content with her master now accounted for, the tabby had settled herself on the rear window ledge. The look she gave Tess was one of typical disinterest like she had no comprehension whatsoever of the seriousness of the situation. Lucky girl.
Tess inched away from her place of refuge and began to walk with painstaking care, always mindful of her position relative to the car. The open door beckoned, and she looked longingly back at it. She would have given anything, in that moment to trade places with Winnifred or even with him, to be ignorant of the dangers facing them, to have someone else assume all the risk, to be spared the pure terror coursing through her.
It seemed to take forever to regain the ground to the point at which she had first seen the cougar. When she was sure she was relatively close, she began to scour the ground in earnest for any sign of the keys. Thank goodness there was a full moon, for with it, she hoped to be able to spy the distinctive metallic key chain, thankful she had made note of it, however briefly. Just as her eye fell on the object she sought, she caught a movement in her peripheral vision. She made a grab for the keys anyway and straightened just as a mother racoon and her family scurried across the road in front of her. They never made a sound, just eyed her warily as if annoyed at her presence in their nightly realm. The relief washing over her was so intense, Tess couldn’t help but giggle. Shaking her head, she turned and headed back towards the car, tire iron in one hand, keys in the other.
‘OK. Don’t jinx it, Tess,’ she warned herself.
When she was within a few feet of the car, she lost her composure completely and made a mad dash for the open door, literally launching herself inside, after which she slammed the door shut with a resounding thud. Dropping the tire iron with a thump onto the floorboard, she buried her face in her hands and wept.
It was several minutes before she was capable of collecting herself, but after a quick check in the back seat for both her captor and Winnifred, Tess took a deep, laboured breath and slipped the key into the ignition. As she did so, she threw a quick thank you heavenward, crediting her guardian for watching over her. When the engine mercifully started, she watched with impatience bordering on desperation as the gas gauge slowly rose. Just under half a tank. She prayed it would be enough to get back out onto the highway. Without wasting another second, she swung the car around and headed out, following the tire tracks she assumed were theirs.
Forty minutes later, having reached the highway, she flagged down another motorist – a young couple who were on a camping trip. Tess immediately asked to use their cell phone, concentrating in earnest to remember the correct number, relying on her photographic memory despite her scattered wits. By the fourth ring, she was keenly disappointed at the prospect of reaching voicemail. On the fifth ring, he picked up. Her heart leapt into her throat.
“McLean,” her voice broke with his name as she tried to swallow past the huge lump in her throat. Her voice softened, “Hey, where’s a cop when you need one?”
Waiting for the police and ambulance, Tess could not shake an uneasy feeling of dread. What if her captor regained consciousness before help arrived? If so, would he be able to get out of the car with his leg injuries? Was she or the young couple she’d flagged down in any danger?
‘Be rational, Tess. How far would he get with those injuries?’ her inner voice assured her. She tried to calm down but ended up pacing back and forth along the roadside, seemingly oblivious to the light drizzle of rain.
The young man whose cell phone she had borrowed stood with his umbrella watching her. “Hey, are you OK?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied vaguely.
“Are you hurt?”
“Huh?” She followed his gaze and noted for the first time the blood on her clothing. “No, not me,” she replied distractedly. Nodding her head toward the car, she indicated – “Him.”
When the young man headed toward the car, she ran after him, grabbing him by the arm. “Hey, stay back. He’s dangerous.”
“Who?”
“The guy in that car. He just tried to kill me in the woods.”
“What? You’re joking, right?”
“No, I’m not joking. He may be injured and unconscious, but he’s really dangerous.”
All of a sudden, the strangest feeling came over Tess, and despite her misgivings, she gave in to it. “Stay here,” she instructed the young man as she walked cautiously back towards her captor’s vehicle, all the while her inner voice was screaming at her to wait for the police. She shook her head to silence it.
As she approached the car, she stopped short several feet away, afraid to go any closer. She tried to peer into the dark interior in search of her captor’s prostrate form. Unable to do so, she finally walked up to the rear passenger door and leaned over to cup her hands against the window, but the night was so black, she simply couldn’t make anything out. Sensing the young man’s presence behind her, mildly annoyed he had followed her despite her warning, she held out her hand, “I need your cell phone again.”
“Sure,” the y
oung man replied as he dug his hand in his pocket. “But it’s almost dead. I have to charge it,” he cautioned her.
With phone in hand, Tess reached out and opened the car door, tentatively at first, before swinging it wide. The soft light from the phone illuminated her captor’s prone body slumped along the back seats.
“Jesus, what happened to him?” the young man gasped as he took in the bloody clothing.
“Cougar.”
“Holy Christ!”
Winifred rose from the rear window ledge as if to inquire why they had both been abandoned. With a graceful leap, she landed on her master and circled his chest as before, but instead of settling there, she merely stretched her legs and moved languidly to rub her back against the front seat. Scooping her up, Tess bent to grab the duvet she’d swept off the back seat earlier, pushing aside the young man as she straightened. Closing the car door, she returned his phone.
Cradling the cat in her arms, she wrapped herself in the duvet to ward off the rain, declining the young man’s offer to wait in his car. Assuring him she was fine, she watched as he returned to the shelter of his vehicle to wait for the police. Winnifred’s soft purring gradually served to calm her, and she burrowed deeper into the warmth of the duvet. As the minutes passed, the ordeal of the last four days began to take its toll. Her eyelids fluttered…
As exhaustion claimed her and she closed her eyes, awareness came to her slowly as though swimming up from a great depth. At first, the fragrance was barely there, the merest whisper of a scent. As awareness dawned, however, it grew stronger, permeating her nostrils – a sickly sweet, clingy smell. It reminded her of the pungent smell of lilies. It reminded her of his shampoo…
Numbly, she made her way over to the young couple’s car and rapped on the driver’s side window. When the young man rolled down the window, she asked him distractedly, “Have you got a pocket knife?”
“No, I don’t carry one. Sorry. Why?”
“Do you have anything in your car? Scissors? Anything sharp?”
The young man’s companion began to root through her purse, turning on the overhead light in order to aid her search. After several seconds, she produced rather sheepishly a metal nail file. Leaning over to offer it up, she remarked, “Will this do?”
Tess took hold of it with her free hand and passed the cat to the young man. Hesitating only briefly, she removed the duvet from her shoulders and grabbing one end, she plunged the nail file into it.
The young couple watched her, fascinated. “What are you doing?” the young man asked cautiously as if he didn’t really want to know.
Using the hole created by the nail file, Tess ripped apart one pocket and reached inside. Unable to comprehend what it was her fingers were telling her, she frowned. Frustrated at the pitch blackness in which she stood, she threw a cautious glance back toward her captor’s car before ducking quickly into the back seat of the young couple’s vehicle. Manoeuvring so as not to block the overhead light, her eye fell on the pocket’s contents and her stomach turned over. Winnifred, who had been sitting contentedly on the young man’s lap, suddenly arched her back and hissed as though equally appalled at the macabre sight within. Despite her revulsion and disbelief, Tess reached out once again to touch the soft, dark filling material, raising a handful of it in front of her face, as if bringing it closer into view could somehow dispel the reality of it.
It was human hair.
“What the hell is that?” the young man asked incredulously.
“His masterpiece,” she replied numbly.
JULY
It was a beautiful, sunny day in early July, eleven months after Katie Bishop’s murder when Tess returned the glass angel ornament to her family. As she drove up the peninsula with the box on the seat beside her, she couldn’t help but recall her frame of mind during her visit last fall. She had dreaded the prospect of meeting Katie’s parents, knowing she likely wouldn’t be able to help them. Katie’s mother had been a wreck back then, a fragile, devastated woman who had apparently broken down completely not long afterward. It had been heart wrenching to witness her suffering, and so Tess had asked for something of Katie’s with which to channel. She remembered feeling like a fraud in doing so. And as the weeks and months passed, she only grew more despondent and dejected with her failure to produce any leads.
But it was over. It was all over now and Katie’s family could at last focus on healing. Tess had been anxious to return the glass angel after having kept it for so long, so it was only a week after Roy Lange’s capture when she phoned the Bishops.
It felt strange to know his name – to actually associate a name with him and such an ordinary one at that. She had her doubts it was actually his real name, of course, as she was certain he probably used numerous aliases. Undoubtedly, it would take a while to figure out who he really was.
A woman’s voice had answered her phone call, a voice resonating warmth and sincerity. Tess was surprised at its strength, something that was in sharp contrast with her previous perception of Katie’s mother. And so, she’d made arrangements to return the glass angel on the weekend. Parking her car in front of the barn on the Bishop’s property as she had done on her previous visit, Tess made her way over to the front of the house. Upon coming into view of the garden, she gasped with pleasure, pausing to take in the full effect of the sight before her. She remembered how it had looked last fall, how she had thought at the time it had all the markings of a true gardener’s garden although it had been understandably neglected. As she stood before it today, she marvelled at the transformation. Neat rows of geraniums bordered the front fence line and the walkway leading up to the house. A stately weeping willow dominated one side of the yard, its gently sweeping limbs draped protectively over the garden bed beneath it, a riot of colour emanating from the dozens and dozens of begonias planted there.
The other side of the yard was dedicated to a rose garden not yet in full bloom that encircled a small arbour complete with garden bench. Groupings of Shasta daisies and sunflowers grew in proliferation, their large heads stretched out at this time of day to greet the sun. As if the garden wasn’t lovely enough, the entire length of the front porch was lined with hanging baskets.
Sensing Tess’ presence, Mrs. Bishop looked up from her weeding and rose quickly, shedding her gardening gloves in the process. She extended her hand warmly in greeting as she approached. “Ah, Miss Walker. Good afternoon. Thank you for coming all this way.”
“No problem.” Tess shook her hand and smiled shyly. Contrary to her previous impression of Katie’s mother, Tess barely recognized the woman who stood before her. For one thing, she looked much younger. Tess surmised that intense grief must age a person, at least temporarily. Now in a better place, the air with which Katie’s mother carried herself was full of purpose and confidence.
Tess could easily spot the resemblance to Katie. Both mother and daughter had the same head of thick auburn hair and both were slight of build. Tess had to wince how those very qualities would have attracted Roy’s notice. She shoved this thought aside and added, “Please call me Tess.”
“Of course, and please, it’s Sandra. Only my students call me Mrs. Bishop,” she grimaced and rolled her eyes.
“You’re a teacher?”
“Yes, kindergarten. They’re a handful at that age, but I love it.” She stopped short as if to examine Tess more closely. Finally, she nodded her head in approval. “I like your hair. You’ve cut it.”
To put it mildly, Tess was surprised by her comment, for she didn’t think Mrs. Bishop had been capable of taking much notice of anything during her previous visit. Still mourning the loss of her hair, Tess ran her hands self-consciously over her cropped locks and answered, “Thanks. It’s kind of a drastic change.”
“It suits you. Honestly. I never lie about things like that,” she said smiling warmly. “I’m so glad to finally get a chance to meet you properly. I’m afraid I must apologize for my state of mind at our previous meeting.”
<
br /> Tess nodded her understanding, not quite knowing what to say to this woman who was so refreshingly frank.
Sandra lowered her voice, “I’m afraid I had a really hard time with everything back then. It was such a shock. But I’m better now. When you have three other children dependent on you, you can’t wallow in your own misery for too long. Come, let’s sit in the shade, shall we?” she suggested as she pointed to the arbour. As she led the way up into the small structure and took a seat on the bench within, she remarked, “I love warm days like this, but it’s nice to get out of the heat for a while.”
As Tess settled herself on the bench beside Katie’s mother, she surveyed the garden and sighed, “You have such a lovely garden. It must be a lot of work.”
“Ah, yes it is, but it’s my passion. George likes to tinker with his cars.” With this, she nodded toward the barn. “But give me a spade and a shovel any day. I don’t know what I’d do without my garden. It’s been my saving grace.”
Tess understood implicitly and nodded. Suddenly remembering the box in her hand, she awkwardly handed it to Sandra. “I’ve been meaning to get this back to you.”
A sad smile passed over the woman’s face, and for a moment she appeared to be lost in a distant memory. Tess held her breath as Sandra proceeded to open the box and gently take hold of the string, lifting the delicate glass angel into view. As it twirled, it caught the sunlight, and in doing so, it appeared to glow.
“It was so long ago now, but I remember picking this out for her at a market on Salt Spring Island. She was only four months old that first Christmas, and being our first child, we were enamoured with her,” she explained in a voice full of emotion.
Tess sat in awkward silence, fearful such a memory might be too painful.