Winter's Mourning

by Janice J. Richardson

  Marco, Jennifer’s hairdresser, complied with Sue’s request to take Jennifer to a private area for her haircut, away from the main salon. In no time, her hair and the lavender field trip was done. Jennifer felt rejuvenated.

  “I have enough time to get the arrangement from this afternoon typed up and completed, and have supper before I go over to Williams,” said Jennifer as they left the mall.

  “I heard from my buddy about Winter’s friend while you were getting your hair cut. He’s sending me a photo she had of Aaron and Winter. She doesn’t remember Aaron’s last name though.”

  “Really?” Jennifer was excited. “Maybe this photo will solve the mystery.”

  “I am to call him later this evening when he gets off duty, he’s going to give me the details of the visit. We can fill Regina in tomorrow morning. I’ll prepare a brief for her.”

  With business taken care of at Spencer’s, Sue and Jennifer were at William’s Funeral Home promptly at 5:30 p.m. Jennifer now had all the keys for both funeral homes, but rather than enter by the back door she walked around to the front with Sue. She stood and analysed the building. It was hers now. She felt a tiny rush of pride.

  “I just noticed something,” Jennifer said, turning to Sue. “Dimitri’s name is at the bottom of the sign as owner. I’ll need to order a new one. I’ll ask Marcia if she thinks we should change the design a bit.”

  Entering the funeral home, she noticed how different it was from a few weeks before. It didn’t just look clean, it smelled clean. The lighting was softer. One of the staff had rearranged the seating in the lobby, making it less cluttered.

  Desta greeted them before they got past the entrance.

  “Hi Jennifer. Hi Sue. Marcia’s in the prep room.”

  “Hi Desta, I’ll head down. Thanks.”

  Sue followed Desta back into the office. Jennifer heard the vacuum running and saw Jeff hard at work in the suite. Everything was in order: the casket was in place, the flowers were done, the register book and sign outside the door were completed. Jennifer smiled. Marcia did run a tight ship.

  The prep room at Williams had room for two tables and ample counter space. Marcia was in the middle of embalming and glanced up with a little scowl as Jennifer entered, immediately relaxing when she saw who it was. Both Jennifer and Marcia had the same strict policy about anyone entering the prep room, including support staff, unless absolutely necessary.

  “It’s just me.”

  “Love the haircut. I have to get mine done soon, who do you go to?”

  “Where’s your phone? I’ll put Marco’s number in it for you.”

  “My jacket. On the hook at the back of the door.”

  As Jennifer entered the number on Marcia’s phone she asked if Marcia had any ideas about changing the signage out front.

  “I think we should ask Desta for her input.” Marcia continued to concentrate on her embalming but Jennifer knew she was interested in the topic. “With her background in fine arts, she’d do it way more justice than you and I ever could.”

  “Brent emailed to say he found a house. They take possession in a month. He’s made alternate arrangements in the meantime. Halloween will be here soon, where did the summer go? We’ll have to make sure we have all the lights on at both funeral homes to deter pranksters. We’ll get the usual joke phone calls, of course.”

  “Like clock-work. At least I can move into the condo anytime now,” Marcia said. “The crew will be finishing the floors and painting ahead of schedule. I was thinking of trying to move in this weekend. Depends on how busy this place is.”

  “Peter might be able to cover Spencer’s. Desta is working tonight?”

  “I suggested she go home once you arrived. That leaves you in the front office and Jeff helping with the visitation. I should be done here in about forty minutes.

  “Can I help?”

  “Sure, can you get the casket and clothing ready after you help me find this vein?”

  Jennifer put on a pair gloves and moved to the edge of the prep table.

  “I’ve been trying for five minutes to raise it,” said Marcia. “I found the artery right away. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

  Jennifer spent the next few minutes probing. “Got it.” She clamped and tied it off for Marcia. Stepping back, she removed her gloves and dropped them into the bio hazard box.

  For the next half hour the two of them chatted quietly as they worked. Marcia shared how hard it was for her to help the parents plan their child’s funeral, and told her how proactive Emily’s parents were with their daughter’s funeral plans. The parents had asked the school to allow Marcia and Jennifer to attend the assembly at the school and answer questions.

  “It’s going to be a tough one,” said Marcia sadly. “I find calls like this one challenging.”

  “Me too.” Jennifer told her about the day’s call and how Greg’s parents were refusing to accept his wife, his death, and his funeral. “Some people are their own worst enemies, although it must be terrible for any parent to lose a child. I hope they don’t regret avoiding the funeral. I had better get upstairs, see you later.” She hung up her lab coat. “I like this prep room, it’s roomy and comfortable to work in.”

  She closed the door quietly behind her and stood in the silent hallway. Slowly Jennifer walked through the selection room, taking it all in and eventually emerging in the lounge. I can’t believe Anne and I really own this funeral home. Then her thoughts darkened. I cannot let Travis take this away from me.

  She clenched her fists and closed her eyes, mentally rehearsing some of the self-defence moves Haney and Sue had taught her. She walked up the stairs quietly, and surveyed the suites as if she was seeing them for the first time. Desta was talking with Sue when Jennifer went to the front office.

  “Desta, do you think you could design a new sign for the funeral home? We need to change it.” Desta’s face lit up.

  “I’d love to try. Just let me know what you want written on it.”

  Jennifer took a few minutes to sit with Desta and toss around some ideas while Sue looked on.

  “I shouldn’t be keeping you Desta, you’ve had a full day of it.” Jennifer stood up and straightened her suit. “Take your time with the sign, there’s no rush.”

  “It’ll be an interesting challenge.” Desta gathered her purse and changed her shoes. “I’m looking forward to it. Goodnight Sue. Goodnight Jennifer.”

  The evening passed quickly. Sue and Jeff kept each other company in the lounge while Jennifer attended to the visitation.

  Marcia spent most of her time with the family of the murdered woman. As the family left she looked at Jennifer, her eyes betraying her stress. Jennifer took her into the office and the two of them sat and discussed the call in detail. Marcia allowed herself to feel the anger and the grief that the family had shared with her as they debriefed.

  “We need more shelters,” said Marcia. “Her name is Donna and she might still be alive if she’d been able to get away from her husband. Her kids are grown and live out of town. She worked and didn’t want to give up her job. Apparently she did call a support line a few months ago. They counselled her to leave, but the shelters were full.” She shook her head sadly, sitting silent and still for a long minute. “Jeff and I can close up if you and Sue want to head out,” she said finally.

  “It’s a tough situation. We have to be here for each other and the staff. Neither of us can afford to burn out from working too hard or holding in too much stress or emotion. I think it’s going to be harder with two funeral homes. We’ll be back and forth between them and get most of the calls in the area. Self-care will not be an option. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Jennifer rose slowly and gave Marcia’s shoulder a squeeze. She sought out Sue and the two of them went back to Spencer’s.

  The short ride over was quiet but comfortable. When they arrived, the women did a cursory sweep of the building before heading to the apartment where, once again, a happy Grimsby went on a tear, racing i
n and out of rooms and up and down furniture.

  “I need to take out the garbage. Are you up for one more trip down the stairs?”

  Sue groaned, “You’re going to be the death of me. Where do you get all your energy?”

  Jennifer chuckled. “No idea. Why don’t you watch from the balcony? I’ll run out and right back in.”

  “Alright, just one trip?”

  “That’s all. Be right back.”

  Jennifer slipped her phone into her suit pocket, picked up the garbage and went out the garage door before Sue could change her mind. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. The air was fresh and the birds were chirping, getting ready to roost for the night. It was peaceful and calm.

  As she approached the dumpster she turned and looked up to see Sue standing on the balcony. She quickened her step. Standing on her toes, Jennifer lifted the lid to the dumpster and swung the bag up.

  Sue yelled, “look out!”

  Jennifer tried to turn to see why. Caught off balance between the weight of the garbage and being on her toes, she had no time to react to the arm around her waist and the cloth over her mouth. Leaves and branches tore at her as she phased in and out of conscious—aware only of being dragged through the hedge. Her body refused to respond to her brain screaming, fight back! The back of the funeral home grew dark then light, blurring. Heavy eyelids blinked. Sue was no longer on the balcony.

  11

  Fighting her way back to consciousness, Jennifer felt movement beneath her. Her head hurt, pins and needles flashed through arm. It was pitch black. Her heart pounded with fear. She tried to open her mouth but it seemed to be stuck. Lying on her side hurt, so she attempted to roll over and straighten out. It took her a few seconds to realize her hands were taped behind her and her mouth sealed shut. Her feet were stuck together too.

  I need air! I can’t breathe!

  Wave upon wave of panic swept over her until she was lightheaded.

  Calm down, Jennifer. Calm yourself down.

  Haney’s instructions, what were they? “Use your brain. Use your instincts. Get away from your attacker.”

  Struggling to slow down her breathing, she took stock of her surroundings. She didn’t hear traffic noises and guessed they were on a highway, the movement of the vehicle was smooth. There was room to move, but she couldn’t straighten out completely. She felt rough fabric on her face but the surface was hard underneath.

  I’m in a car. A trunk. You read about this. You know what to do. I need to get this tape off my mouth. She finally put her jumbled thoughts into order. Jennifer rubbed her cheek against the fabric below her over and over, trying to get it off. It didn’t work.

  I can’t do it. I had only two sessions of self-defence training. I don’t know enough. Her panic threatened to take over once again as her heart smashed about her ribcage and her breathing increased.

  Start again, she commanded. Maybe there’s something around me I can use. If I can free my hands, I can free my feet and mouth. She struggled to search her environment. As she attempted to roll over she saw the glow from the trunk release latch. If she could free her hands and feet she could get out.

  Moving her feet towards the front of the car she felt a hard object, like a stick. Trying not to make any noise she slowly worked the object toward her. It seemed to take forever. The slight jostling from the steady movement of the vehicle made it more difficult.

  When she’d moved it closer, she rolled onto her side and used her fingers to pull it over. It was hard to hold, but she persisted. Sweat beaded her forehead and dripped into her eye. She blinked it clear.

  A tire iron. I found a tire iron.

  Tears of relief sprang to her eyes.

  Please God, give me enough time to free myself. Please help me get away.

  Is there ever a right time to die? she asked herself as she rested from her efforts. No guarantee of tomorrow for any of us. When she got up this morning, did she think this would be her last day on earth? The thought never crossed her mind. Now it was all she could think about.

  Jennifer relaxed her body and feel the tension ease. I may not want to die but it could happen. Marcia would take Grimsby. Anne would miss her the most. Her parents would too, especially her mother. I didn’t even tell Mom and Dad about buying Williams. I didn’t think they’d care. Maybe I need to reach out to them. I’ve been so wrapped up in my life I ignored them. I have to call them.

  She worked her fingers until she reached the end of the tire iron. It was curved. Perfect, she thought as she struggled to bring her hands under her, and slip her legs through. Repeated attempts were unsuccessful. She lay back and concentrated on thinking something positive. For a brief second she had an olfactory deja vu scent of lavender and it helped calm her.

  I am just wasting energy? The end of the tire iron is sharp; if I work at freeing my feet then maybe I can slip my arms through.

  She tried over and over to use the end of the tire iron to slice the tape, but to no avail. The tire iron wasn’t anchored and slipped away constantly.

  Tears of frustration sprang to her eyes. There has to be a way! she yelled in her mind. Something brushed up against her right hand and startled her. She pulled her right hand up. The tape seemed looser. Maybe I can wiggle out of it.

  After a difficult struggle, she pulled her hand free. In her excitement, she swung her hand around to the front of her body, cracking her knuckles against the roof of the trunk. She froze, the pain shooting through her hand. Blood dripped over her wrist.

  Damn, she thought. That was stupid.

  Jennifer pushed her right hand underneath her body to apply pressure to the wound and used her left hand to free her mouth and feet, gritting her teeth against the pain. She took the pieces of tape and felt for the spaces at the edge of the trunk, tucking them away. The piece she’d pulled off her mouth she put in her pocket. If I do get out safely it could be evidence, she thought. At least that’s how it would work in a perfect world.

  Now all I have to do is wait until the car stops. That could be a while.

  She closed her eyes and breathed a prayer of thanks. Her phone was in her pocket but she was afraid to pull it out.

  Maybe if I shield it with my body I won’t attract any attention.

  She reached into her pocket with her good hand, retrieved the phone, and turned it on. The brightness causing her to close her eyes before she opened them slowly, to adjust to the glare. It was 2:35 a.m. There was one bar of service. She slipped the phone back into her pocket and lay on her back.

  I can call 911 without service.

  She pulled out her phone again, turned the volume down low and dialed 911. Nothing. No cell phone providers were close enough.

  Time dragged on. She was exhausted and felt drugged and wanted to sleep but was afraid she’d miss her opportunity to escape. The car slowed and she was aware it had turned. It stopped. She heard muffled voices. Then clearly heard someone say, thank you, have a great night. The car started moving.

  Travis.

  She reached for the tire iron. She couldn’t find it. Stay calm, she told herself as the beating of her heart threatened to deafen her.

  Get out first, then grab the tire iron and run.

  But the car accelerated. She’d missed her chance. Her heart sank and tears stung her eyes. Her hand throbbed. She touched it gently; the bleeding had stopped but it was swollen, crusted and sore.

  A few minutes later the car slowed again and jostled as Travis pulled over to the side of the highway. Every muscle in her body tensed as the car decelerated to a stop. Jennifer waited for him to get out of the car, but she didn’t hear the car door open. He didn’t move. Remembering Haney’s words, she didn’t hesitate and reached for the trunk release.

  The trunk popped open. Jennifer scrambled out and saw the wayward tire iron in the dim glow of the trunk light. Grabbing it she swung it hard into one of the tail lights, smashing the plastic cover. Travis launched from the car as soon as the trunk opened. The door swung
open.

  In her panic, Jennifer ran towards the woods, grateful she had flat shoes on. Stumbling through a ditch in the darkness, she ran blindly forward, barely able to make out the shapes of the trees and bushes.

  What am I doing? This isn’t an escape. There’s nowhere to go. I can’t stay on the road; he has a car. He could run me down. He can run faster than me. I have to find a place to hide.’

  In the quiet of the woods every twig snap ricocheted like a firecracker. She quickly realized that running in the woods in the dark was foolish and stupid. But she could hear Travis behind her.

  Jennifer looked around and saw the outline of a small clearing to her right. She eased herself over the embankment gently. Her feet found solid ground, a rock. She crouched down and felt her way along. The rock sloped to her left. It was rough and had a familiar texture. Lichens. She took a deep breath and recognized the smell of moss and pine trees. She knew where she was: the Canadian Shield.

  She was up north where she grew up, where she’d played in the woods with her twin and her friends. Had hiked and camped and canoed. It was not a safe place to be at night without light or fire. Travis wasn’t the only danger. Bears and cougars were a very real threat.

  Travis had stopped following her. She sat on the rock and tried to look back through the trees. She heard the car door slam.

  Could he be leaving?

  Light pierced the darkness and started toward her.

  He’s coming back—with a flashlight.

  Jennifer worked her way down the rock until she was at the edge of a drop-off. She grabbed her phone, using its flashlight to see how far down the drop went then turned off the light and pocketed it.

  Only a few feet down.

  She slid off, landing on smaller stones that had broken free of the granite. She crouched down, still holding the tire iron in her right hand. To her left she could feel a rock, a larger piece of the granite. She propped the tire iron up against the little wall and reached for the rock piece. Travis was closing in, the light sweeping back and forth above her head. Grasping the rock firmly with both hands she waited, trembling.