by John Hunt
-28-
Detective Davis stared at the chart on the wall of his office at home. It contained photos and small notes of the case referencing page numbers in the Major Case file, heavier than an Old Testament bible, sitting on the corner of his desk. He liked to have a paper copy as well as the electronic one on his computer. His gaze roved over all, trying to see something he missed. Frustrating, this case. It kept him up some nights, morose and sullen, feeling like an unintelligent slob. The stress accumulated on his shoulders. The pressure from outside was beginning to wear on him. The press, his bosses, the public, Lucy and Olivia were all looking to him to solve this thing so they could stop worrying about it. They saw Jen’s death as a huge stain, questioning the police’s ability to deal with the matter. All the reporter pundits offered their own insight and criticism on how the police could be doing a better job. The stress from them didn’t bother him. His bosses repeated words and phrases like “public perception” and “optics” as though these were the most important considerations in the world. Davis didn’t give a fuck about that and didn’t feel the pressure their words and stern gazes were meant to give.
Davis understood public perception and the importance of it. Police derive their powers from the public’s support of them. So yeah, they were definitely accountable to the public and should be. His bosses and their politician words didn’t apply the pressure. The pressure came from himself.
To Davis, stress is internal and to a certain extent, we control our reactions to outside events and dictate how they affect us. Sometimes this isn’t true. Sometimes an outside trauma can be so horrific or against our own belief of reality, it gets inside, churns about and consumes you from within. Not quite at that stage, Davis could feel it growing. An impending menace, hurtling towards him. His stress came from the death of Jen and her mother. Based on all that he knew from the investigation, reading reports, reviewing interviews, how could he not anticipate the Jackal going after her? Or any them? Could he have foreseen it? No. He told the survivors to protect themselves and take precautions because that’s what you’re supposed to say when the bad guy gets away. But he didn’t believe the bad guy would come back. The bad guy took great pains not to be caught and identified so Davis didn’t think he would show up again. He thought the Jackal was gone. Like all the other guys, he thought the Jackal upped and vanished, never to be seen again around here. To go after any of the girls went against this premise so no one believed he would do it. Davis believed he would act again, somewhere new, in some town far away but there was no way he believed for a second he would go after Jen. Suicidal to do so. He was almost begging to be caught. But he didn’t get caught did he? He walked into her house, murdered her mother, killed and mutilated Jen and left without a trace. No witnesses, nothing.
Intelligence officers were watching both of the girls now. At first, they had been there twenty-four hours a day on rotating shifts. The cost of the surveillance mounted fast so it had been reduced to twelve hour shifts. The bosses were considering pulling it altogether if this didn’t get wrapped up soon. They were convincing themselves the attack on Jen was a petulant, vengeful act. Sad truth of the matter was that money dictated so much of policing. They wanted to believe the Jackal got it out of his system and would leave the other girls alone. The Jackal would have to be insane to continue the attacks and not get caught. Davis believed otherwise. Didn’t the Jackal’s acts prove his insanity? After Jen, Davis knew the Jackal wouldn’t be going away. He would be waiting for his opportunity. The Jackal had two other girls to kill and Davis felt certain Olivia would be the last one. His arrogance was too large for him to let Olivia and Lucy go. Davis wished he had deduced that before Jen was murdered. He couldn’t let the brass pull the surveillance. Not before he found the bastard.
Olivia was the key to it all. He felt it in his gut. He had interviewed all her teachers from high school and all her friends. He questioned her fellow workers and her boss at the recreation centre and got nothing. He got a good idea of Olivia the person before the abduction. From all accounts, they described her as a kind and conscientious person. Nice sentiments but not very helpful. None of it would lead Davis to the Jackal. She appeared to be an investigative dead end.
Then he and his team worked on a different angle. Where did Shawn Grady get the money to buy the little terror house? They traced it back and got nothing but more accounts owned by Shawn. The Jackal used Shawn with incredible skill, hiding behind him to become all but invisible. It was clear the Jackal possessed better than average financial resources but where to start based on that?
The creeper at the pool, the guy who showed up at the university the night Olivia had been taken needed to be found. Security video? Long but erased. He had spoken to almost all of Olivia’s co-workers and learned nothing helpful. He requested the recreation centre provide him a list of all the people registered to use the facilities during the time Olivia worked there. Over five year old records. No one he spoke to knew where they were kept or who kept them. He assigned one of the junior officers the task. As far as he knew, she was still working on it. He would have to go through the list and see if anyone remembered the vague description of the male provided by Olivia who had last seen the guy over five years ago. Fuck my life, he thought.
He scanned the wall, looking for something, anything to give him a place to start. He couldn’t fail Lucy and Olivia like he did Jen. They had been through more than enough shit to last them two lifetimes. He smiled, thinking of Olivia. What incredible will. To bite into a person’s neck, break out of a cell she had been in for five years and instead of running off screaming into the night, she rescued two other girls. Amazing. He liked her. A lot. Only she was a victim and a witness and he had to be hands off. Wasn’t professional to start dating a victim of a crime you were investigating. Maybe after it was all over? Shit. Like she would be interested in some old guy like him. Well, he wasn’t that old. He was maybe five years older than her? Not so bad.
Jesus. Stop being such a moon-eyed teenager. Focus on catching the Jackal. After that, who knows? Maybe he should call her. He hadn’t give her an update on the investigation in awhile. The thought made him smile and then he shook his head, thinking, be professional. This is a courtesy call. You told her you would call on a weekly basis and you’re fulfilling that obligation. Yeah, right. He called her, and when he heard her voice, he couldn’t help but grin.
-29-
Olivia learned to relax. Brutus taught her how. A routine arose without contemplation. She would wake up and Brutus would groan, yawn and follow her out of the bedroom leaving an indentation behind in his dog bed. He would sit by the food bowl, eyes following Harry and Olivia as they worked on coffee and breakfast. She would feed him and let him out in the backyard, not as concerned with the shadows as before. He sat at the door when he wanted back in and he would stay near her for the rest of her day. Wherever she happened to be, he sat close by and her hand would stray to scratch behind his ears. She loved him immediately and Olivia felt loved by Brutus.
Harry tolerated Brutus for Olivia’s sake and his fear dissipated from the constant exposure. If Brutus barked or growled, it would have been harder on him to cope. Hell, if the dog barked Harry might have screamed or crapped himself. If it came to that, he was sure he would rather it be the former. Harry thought the dog must have sensed his discomfort because for the most part, Brutus gave him space. He never sat between Olivia and Harry even though he always remained close to Olivia’s side. It got harder for Harry to dislike the dog. A grudging respect for Brutus grew because his effect on Olivia was noticeable. Before, even in a reclining state, Olivia wore the worried frown and searching eyes. With Brutus around, her features smoothed out and it seemed to Harry she breathed easier. After a week, Olivia convinced Harry to go outside with her to take Brutus for a walk. A big step for Harry and for Olivia. Even though she went out to th
e AA meetings with Harry and to the dog shelter to get Brutus, she preferred to stay inside and for her to want to go out and walk the block or wherever was a sign of her healing. He did his best to keep clear of Brutus in the house and now Olivia wanted him to walk by the dog’s side? Well, maybe he could walk on the other side of Olivia, furthest from Brutus. Still, the idea lifted his hand to swipe at his upper lip. Harry wanted to see his daughter go outside. It would be nice to see her grow the confidence to venture away from the house and who knows, after awhile, she may go on without him. For that reason, he couldn’t say no to the dog walks after dinner. He would feel like a bad parent to deny her the simple request. She wanted to walk Brutus everyday but was still at the point of being fearful of the outside world without someone by her side. While talking with Olivia, he kept a wary eye on Brutus. Brutus, for his part, ignored Harry. He never pulled on the leash or yanked her to the side to investigate a smell. He would pause and glance at Olivia if he scented something he wanted to investigate and if she noticed this, she would let him lead her to what his nose found so interesting. Brutus plodded beside her, nudging her on occasion to invite a pet or, if that didn’t work, he licked her hand. He sniffed other dogs and allowed them to smell him with calm acceptance. All in all, Harry grudgingly admitted to himself, Brutus was an exceptional dog.
. . .
Olivia loved the walks. She could feel her tight back muscles loosen. She checked over her shoulder less and less. She would watch the rolling shoulders and hips of Brutus when he walked, mouth open with his tongue swinging out like a flag and wondered if she would ever get to the point where she could enjoy the moment without the weight of the past and the present shadow of the Jackal. They walked every night after dinner, sometimes making their way to a Starbucks or a Tim Hortons. In this fashion, they walked out of winter and into spring.
The air lost its chill. The cold breezes sliding down your neck became warmer and the winter coats were replaced with lighter jackets. She and Harry talked about the house and remarked on its transformation under the hands of Frank and Carl. Dale’s contribution included breaking drywall, screwing in boards lopsided and causing Frank constant aggravation. At Frank’s angry-eyed request, Dale stopped helping and provided Olivia with company. They spent many afternoons sipping tea and coffee while Frank and Carl worked around them.
Frank showed up almost everyday which surprised Olivia until Frank told her he wanted to get it over with and move on. The house began to take shape. Carl spent a lot of time there as well at the insistence of Dale and his wife Angela. Frank was the only one who outwardly disliked Brutus. He walked in after they had had him for three days, carrying a toolbox in his hand and setting it on the floor. Brutus left Olivia to see who walked in. He sat in the hallway, his head canted to the side. Frank noticed him as he took off his coat. Carl crowded in behind him, peering over Frank’s shoulder. Brutus growled.
“Olivia?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s a growling dog in your house.”
“His name is Brutus! Say hi!”
“But…it’s a dog!”
Olivia appeared by Brutus and scratched him between the ears.
“Yeah. I know. He’s my dog.”
“I don’t like him.”
Olivia said, “You don’t have to.”
“How am I going to get any work done with that around?”
“He won’t get in your way. He hangs out with me exclusively.”
“What does Harry have to say about you having a dog?”
“He doesn’t know. I hide him in my room when he gets back from work.”
“Really?”
“No. Jackass. He’s fine with him.”
“Huh. I’d like to see that.”
“Stick around for dinner some time and you will.”
Frank turned to Carl and said, “Can you believe this nonsense? Do you like dogs?”
“I don’t like or dislike them.”
“Way to take a stand there, Carl.”
Carl shrugged.
Frank sneered at Brutus and disappeared with his tools into another room. The only time Brutus growled was when a stranger walked by the house or when Frank or Carl showed up. Even after a few weeks, Brutus would greet them at the door with a growl and then saunter back to Olivia’s side. She had heard Frank mutter once after Brutus growled, “Yeah, well. I don’t like you either.” Olivia smiled.
Carl attempted to pat the dog’s head and Brutus rebuffed him by baring his teeth. Olivia thought it was nice of him to try which was more than Frank ever did.
Olivia’s confidence grew. Brutus’ quiet demeanour and constant presence soothed the turbulence inside. The noises outside the house no longer startled a sweat from her or caused her to gasp. The night time shadows lost some of their menace. She loved nothing better than to sit on the couch, a blanket wrapped about her legs with a tea in her hand, a book in the other and Brutus beside her. She would pet him, taking comfort in his soft fur and the rise and fall of his back under her hand. For the first time in forever, she thought of the future. She contemplated registering for online courses and getting her bachelor’s degree, what she had started to do so long ago.
Davis called every Sunday evening. She counted on his calls. She sensed genuine concern for her in their professional conversation tinged with a flirtatious tone. It boosted her self-esteem. If someone as attractive as the detective could like her scarred and mangled self, there was hope for her. She would never have to explain to him what happened or even talk about it if she didn’t want to because he already knew. Maybe she was getting carried away here? It’s his job to care, she thought, and besides, you look like an ogre. Davis is showing professional courtesy and that’s all. She hated it when those old thoughts surfaced. Habits she formed in a pink dungeon where she questioned her worth and believed the cruel comments of her tormentors. She stuffed them down. She remembered what male attention felt like in those long ago days prior to living in a pink prison. She knew what flirting was. She had once been a master of it. Detective Davis definitely flirted with her on the phone. Yeah, definitely. She smiled thinking she didn’t even know his first name.
That afternoon, she sat on the porch in the backyard with the sun heating her skin and she turned her face up to it. Brutus investigated smells along the fence, his tail wagging like a flag in the wind. The sounds of Carl or Frank (she didn’t know who and didn’t much care at this point) working on the closet in her bedroom could be heard through the open window. Summer arrived and she intended to take advantage of it. In a month, when the short season of hot weather arrived, she would be sipping on lemonade from a glass sweaty with ice. By then, the work on the house should be done and she could get a break from both of the men. They worked on it as much as they could and since they both weren’t being paid for it, she shouldn’t be too annoyed with them. She spent most of five years being alone and even though she were free and could talk to whoever she wanted to, she preferred the solitude. Strange, before her captivity, she had been quite an extrovert.
Olivia marvelled at the work done to the house. Frank and Carl had taken down a wall, put a support beam in and opened up the entire first floor. She could see the living room, dining room and down the hallway to the bedrooms from their kitchen. Bright and airy. Very different from when they moved in and every room needed a light on to remove the corner shadows. Even during the day, the house would be dark before they had done the work. In Olivia’s opinion, they did good work. It was hard to get used to having them around all the time when all she wanted was to be alone with Brutus. Carl wasn’t so bad. He kept to himself. But Frank? He was the type of person you could take in small doses. With luck, he would be gone soon enough.
Glorious sunlight indu
ced lethargy and she felt herself drifting until Brutus growled beside her. She cracked open an eye. Brutus sat staring at something behind her. Fear’s fingers played long her skin. She craned her neck. Frank stood in the doorway looking at the fence.
“You need anything Frank? You want a drink or something?”
“No. Just taking a break. Checking out the backyard.”
She turned back to face the green space, peppered with mounds of dog crap. She should pick that up soon. Before she and Harry started sitting out here more regular.
“What about Carl? He thirsty or hungry?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?”
“I’ll do that.” She stood and stretched. Brutus growled beside her.
-30-
When the Jackal noticed the undercover officers, it made his butt pucker up tighter than a drum. What was worse than the cops was the damn dog Olivia had adopted. A german shepherd no less. One mean ass dog and reputedly loyal and protective of their owner.
He had been on his way to see her and every time he did he learned something new causing him to revise his plan or consider abandoning the whole idea of a double abduction. The dog had been the newest wrinkle. He had been thinking of the dog and what to do about it. Concerns about the police had long since vanished since he noticed they no longer patrolled by her or Lucy’s place. He thought it would be safe. Driving towards her house on a side street, he slowed the car approaching a stop sign. He noticed a blue sedan parked against the curb. He had to straddle the middle of the road to safely pass it. Glancing inside, he saw a man playing on an iPad. Nothing too unusual there. He turned his gaze back to the road and then his head snapped back, his eye catching the shape of the police radio on the seat beside him. He forced his eyes forward and stomped the brake realizing he had almost driven right through the intersection without stopping at the sign. In the rearview, the cop lifted his head and then returned to the iPad in his lap. The Jackal drove on. The cops were still watching Olivia. That man was definitely a cop.