Winter's Mourning

by Janice J. Richardson

  “Jennifer,” Travis said calmly. “You can’t get away from me.” The light swung over the top of the rock. He stood above her, just inches from the edge. The light shone in her eyes.

  “There you are. GET UP!”

  She stood, her fear and adrenaline giving her a strength she didn’t know she possessed. With all she had in her, she lifted the rock and smashed it onto Travis’ foot.

  He shrieked. The flashlight flew from his hand. She watched it land and start rolling down the rock. The pain caused Travis to shift his weight and he lost his balance, tumbling down the slope of the rock and crashing off the side. Jennifer grabbed the tire iron, more frightened than she’d been in her life. She scrambled up to the flat part of the embankment and ran back to the highway, ignoring the branches and twigs tearing at her.

  Breaking free of the trees, she ran to the car and tried to yank open the driver’s side door. It was locked. Her breath came in ragged gasps. She was spent and shaking.

  She swung the tire iron at the window. It bounced off. She swung again and it cracked. The third time it broke. She reached inside, unlocked the door and opened it. The keys were gone. She yanked the hood release.

  Only then did she hear Travis yelling at her from the woods, demanding that she come back and help. Ignored him, she exited the car, raised the hood, and using the tire iron pulled as many wires loose as she could. She smashed the headlights. She walked back to the driver’s side door. A sandwich rested on the seat, coffee in the cup holder. She picked them up.

  Peter, she thought. Peter suffered the same injury when the casket had fallen on him. Travis could crawl back to the car but he couldn’t drive it now. Slamming the door, she continued to ignore Travis’ yells for help and, against her better judgment, took the food and drink and tire iron.

  Jennifer looked up and down the dark highway and started walking down the middle in the direction the car was pointing. Her instincts told her not to go back they way they’d come.

  She could barely see where she was going. It wasn’t as black as it had been in the trunk; she could see faint outlines of the road and the trees. She also realized she was asking for trouble. A bear could smell the food. A cougar could sneak up behind her and she’d never know what hit her.

  But her fear of Travis drove her forward. She ate the sandwich hungrily and drank the lukewarm coffee, thinking it was close to the best she’d ever tasted.

  A rage and hatred she’d never possessed before grew inside her.

  I could kill him! Why didn’t I?

  Immediately she regretted the thought, but it stayed with her. She wanted to hurt him so he could never hurt her again.

  Jennifer kept walking. On and on she trudged until her feet, blistered and burning, forced her to stop. She shivered uncontrollably—cold, shock, rage ...

  She could be miles from a hamlet or village. The only signs she’d noticed were billboards and they were too far off the road to risk trying to read in the dark. The smell of pine trees lingered as a constant reminder of how isolated the north could be. She had no idea where she was.

  Jennifer pulled her phone from her pocket. No bars. It was nearly 5 a.m. She heard a noise to her right; a crashing sound of branches snapping. Something heavy and large was in the forest. She froze and tightened her grip on the tire iron, her suit jacket flapping behind her at a sudden gust. Her tangled hair whipped her face. She was no match for a bear and got ready to yell if it came close, hoping to scare it off.

  The creature emerged from the edge of the trees. Jennifer stiffened and ground her back teeth. She could barely make out the outline of a loping, towering moose. She almost laughed with relief. But the moose, if it felt threatened, could be one of the more dangerous creatures one might encounter. She had no intention of tangling with it and she was more than willing to get out of its way.

  Dialing 911 again produced no results. She put her phone back into her pocket and continued down the black road, fumbling with the buttons on her blazer then giving up and just wrapping the cloth and her arms around her, exhaustion mounting.

  She had been walking for hours upon hours. Not one car appeared. The night was brisk but warm enough that the flying insects drove her insane, constantly buzzing and biting. She pushed forward until she once again was forced to stop to rest. Her feet bled and she was close to collapsing. She needed a drink and longed for a cup of tea.

  Standing in the middle of the deserted road Jennifer wasn’t sure what to do. She just wanted to sit down and rest. She shook her head, pulled off her shoes and kept moving forward in her bare feet. The cold asphalt a balm to her twisted flesh.

  After an indeterminate amount of time a distant sound penetrated her consciousness—the rumble of a truck somewhere behind her. It felt like forever before she saw the lights of the big rig. She dropped her shoes and the tire iron and stood on the yellow line in the middle of the highway waving her arms. Tears streamed over her cheeks, lacing her lips with their salty wetness and coating her neck.

  The truck driver saw her with plenty of time to stop. As the brakes screeched and the door opened she looked at the silhouette of a burly man who jumped out and ran towards her.

  “Miss, Miss, are you OK?” he asked when he reached her. Jennifer nodded, tears running down her face.

  “Can you. Get. Me to. The closest. Police station?” she forced the words from her mouth, past her ragged breathing.

  “Were you in that car back down the road, the one the smashed-up window and lights?” asked the driver as he took her arm and walked toward the rig.

  “Yes.” They had reached the cab of the truck. Jennifer looked up. The door handle was several feet above her head.

  “I can’t,” she whispered, defeat in her voice. “It’s too high.”

  “I can.” He ran around to the driver’s side, jumped up, opened the passenger door and reached down.

  “I got you,” he said gently. “Grab my wrists.” Jennifer reached up and felt herself being lifted into the cab and to safety. The smell of diesel was like nectar; the truck cab a safe haven.

  “That car was nearly twenty kilometers back.” The truck lurched forward. “You mean to tell me you walked all this way?”

  “Didn’t know what to do,” said Jennifer. She drew a shaky breath. “I grew up in the north. Walking at night is foolish and dangerous, but not as dangerous as the guy in the car. He kidnapped me.”

  “I didn’t see anyone when I drove by. Didn’t stop though, just radioed it in. Hey, are you the girl who was kidnapped down south? It’s all over the news.”

  “Possibly. I live down south and yes, I was kidnapped.”

  The driver reached for the radio. “We’re quite a few miles from the OPP station.” He paused before making the call. “I’m Mack, by the way.”

  Jennifer managed a little smile at the cliché name. “Jennifer. Thanks for saving me.”

  As the sky brightened into soft pinks and yellows with the rising sun, Mack pulled the rig into the OPP station, hopped out and lifted her down. Two men, a paramedic and an officer, walked out to meet her. The paramedic gently wrapped an emergency rescue blanket around her. Mack turned to leave.

  “Mack, wait!” Jennifer cried. “Wait! I need to contact you. What’s your number?”

  She pulled out her phone, which now had full bars, and took Mack’s phone number. She’d do her best to make sure that he got the recognition he deserved. He’d saved her life after all.

  She hugged the burly man, who gently hugged back. Only then did she allow the paramedic to lead her into the safety of the station.

  12

  The paramedic checked her blood pressure, pulse, and temperature and asked her a lot of questions. He examined her feet, cleaning and treating the wounds before applying dressings to some of the cuts and blisters. He bandaged her right hand and a deep scrape on her forehead. She didn’t flinch; it hurt, but she didn’t care. She was safe. The officer sat at his desk and watched.

  “I think you sh
ould go to the hospital to be checked out,” said the paramedic.

  “I’m OK. I’m thirsty and sore, but that’s all. I need to call Sue. She’s a Detective Constable with the Niagara Regional Police.”

  “I’ve notified the Niagara Police and OPP that you’ve been located,” said the officer.

  Jennifer didn’t respond. She pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped Sue’s number. Sue answered on the first ring. She watched as the paramedic rose and left the room.

  “Jennifer? I’m so sorry. I am so sorry—”

  “I’m OK, Sue, really I am. Don’t blame yourself.”

  “Where are you? I can come and get you. Are you sure you’re alright?”

  “I’m at an OPP station up north. The officer says they notified the Niagara Regional Police.”

  “Hang on, the DS is pulling it up.” She paused and Jennifer heard Ryan’s voice in the background. “You’re at the station in Burk’s Falls.”

  “That’s a long way from Niagara Falls,” said Jennifer. “I’m closer to North Bay. I could rent a car, drive to North Bay and fly down to Toronto faster than you coming to get me.”

  “Jennifer, I had Sue put you on speaker.”

  “Hello Detective Sergeant,” said Jennifer. “Where’s Travis?”

  Silence lingered at the end of the line.

  “We don’t know.”

  “Oh no, no, no,” moaned Jennifer. “Did I kill him?”

  “First,” Ryan said calmly. “We need to be sure you’re alright. Then you can tell us what happened so they can try to find him. I’m going to call the station on the landline.”

  Jennifer’s breath came in short gasps. She’d left Travis to die. He could have been killed by a bear or a cougar or bled to death, and she would be responsible for killing him.

  “I can take the police to where I left him right now. We need to hurry.”

  “You didn’t answer my first question,” Ryan said gently. “Are you hurt?”

  “Not really. Just frightened.” Sobs erupted from deep inside her. She set her phone down.

  The paramedic disconnected the call for her as the station phone rang. He sat quietly beside her while the officer continued the conversation with Detective Sergeant Gillespie. He helped her take sips of the tea he’d just made as her sobs subsided. When she had quieted down, the officer looked down at her.

  “I’m going on speaker,” he told her. “Are you alright to continue?”

  She nodded.

  Sue spoke first, “I just let Marcia know you’re safe. She was beside herself and told me to tell you to get home right now, there’s work to do.”

  Jennifer smiled in spite of her emotional turmoil. How like Marcia in a crisis.

  Immediately she thought of Travis. As much as she hated him, and as much as she thought she wanted him dead, she’d never be able to forgive herself for leaving him in the bush to die.

  “I was just looking at the report,” said Ryan. “A truck driver reported the car. It’s on Highway 520, off Highway 11.”

  “I heard Travis stop for coffee. He pulled off the road shortly after and stopped, that’s how I got out.”

  “Heard?” said Ryan a little sharply.

  “I was in the trunk. I didn’t move fast enough before the car started again.”

  Jennifer felt her panic rising. “Please Ryan, please let me take them to the car. He’s in the woods. He’s hurt. I hurt him. It’s my fault.”

  “I rather doubt it’s your fault,” said Ryan dryly. “He brought this all on himself Jennifer. Sit tight.”

  The officer and Detective Sergeant Gillespie discussed their options. Ryan clearly did not want Jennifer to go back to the car. After some back and forth, he agreed to let the constable take Jennifer only if he called for backup.

  “Alright Jennifer, you heard the discussion. We’ll make arrangements from this end to pick you up as soon as possible. We might have the detachment drive you to North Bay and put you on a plane.”

  Jennifer looked at the officer. “Let’s go now, please.”

  “I’ll ride along,” said the paramedic. “Let me get my kit stocked. We can dispatch from Huntsville if we need the rig.”

  The officer disappeared from the room to call for backup and for a few minutes Jennifer found herself alone, her fear of finding Travis dead steadily increasing. The paramedic returned and sat down with her while they waited for the officer. He took her hand and did his best to reassure her.

  “Let’s go,” the officer said brusquely as he re-entered the room.

  Jennifer and the paramedic sat in the back seat of the squad car. The officer drove quickly, lights flashing. The sun shone giving off an early morning glow she loved. As they drove through the silence she stared out the side window. The view forward was through the cage that separated the seats and it made her uncomfortable. If she’d killed Travis, then she’d be arrested and charged—a prisoner.

  Twice the car had to slow for deer grazing on the side of the road. “Look,” said the paramedic, pointing out his side of the car. A bear stood in the middle of a logging road just off the highway. The paramedic smiled at her. “Guess you don’t see too many bears in Niagara, eh?”

  “I grew up in the north,” she replied, doing her best to respond to his small talk. He was kind and gentle and it helped ground her. “My dad was in the Forces. He was posted in North Bay.”

  “Then why didn’t you stay in the car last night?” asked the eavesdropping officer.

  “Because Travis wanted to kill me.” What a stupid question to ask her. “It was Travis or bears or cougars. I just wanted to get away from him.” The officer didn’t respond and Jennifer hoped her comment had shut him up. He didn’t have the most endearing personality. She turned to the paramedic.

  “Where did you grow up?”

  “Trout Creek,” he said. “It was great when I was a kid but I needed to get out, so I went to college in North Bay. I worked in Toronto. Was there for five years but eventually I tired of the fast pace and applied for a posting back here.”

  The car slowed. Ahead was the vehicle she’d fled from. In the light, she saw it was a grey two-door. Another police car faced them on the opposite side of the road; two officers were checking out the damaged vehicle she’d escaped from.

  “He’s not here,” yelled one of the officers. As the three of them disembarked, their officer instructed the paramedic and Jennifer to stay by his car.

  The paramedic looked at Jennifer and made a face as their officer walked away. “I don’t like that guy,” he said. “He is such a cowboy.” His honesty made the corners of Jennifer’s mouth twitch. She didn’t like the officer either.

  A short while later the three officers approached her. “Where did you say you injured him?” asked the cowboy.

  “Further down, in the woods. I’ll show you.” She could almost feel the disdain radiating from the officer who drove them.

  The paramedic took her arm. “Just ignore him. Like I said, he’s a jerk.”

  Jennifer’s feet hurt with every little movement. She was stiff and sore but she refused to let it show.

  The other two officers were kind and pleasant. She led them to the edge of the woods where the grass and brush was trampled.

  “I’ll go first,” said one of the officers. “Straight through?”

  Jennifer nodded. “Yes.”

  “Hello? Police!” he yelled as he walked forward, his hand on his baton. “Hello?” He followed the flattened brush and trail of twigs and leaves farther in.

  When they reached the small clearing, Jennifer said quietly, “Here, on the right.” She pointed to the spot where Travis had fallen. The two new officers moved carefully along the rock. One of them turned to Jennifer.

  “He’s not here.”

  Surprised, Jennifer looked at the officer who’d driven them. He stared back, his arms folded, a tiny smirk on his face.

  “There’s a shoe,” said one officer as he scrambled down the rock face. “It loo
ks like someone landed here, the brush is flattened.”

  He put on gloves and picked up a running shoe. A small amount of dried blood coated the top.

  “It’s his,” she said quietly. “There should be a rock down there as well. I hit him with it.”

  “I see it,” said the officer as he picked up it.

  “That would do a bit of damage,” he said. “You hit him with it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not too shabby. That would slow anyone down.” His partner helped him back up onto the flat rock and they looked around the area.

  “No flashlight?” asked Jennifer.

  “There was one in the car,” said the officer who had retrieved the shoe.

  “Then he made it back to the car?” Relief washed over her, cleansing her guilt. If he got back to the car, then he was safe.

  “Appears so.”

  “You said he kidnapped you, are you sure you didn’t just have a lover’s quarrel?” asked the officer cowboy.

  Jennifer was floored. She turned to the officer who found the sneaker. “If you look in the trunk you’ll find duct tape stuffed in the holes at the side.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the duct tape she’d saved. “It’ll match this.” She put it back in her pocket before anyone could take it from her. “You’ll also find some of my blood. I cut my hand.”

  They heard another car pull up and a small burst from a siren. “Sarge is here,” said the officer who drove them, his voice pleasant. “Let’s go.” He led the way out of the woods.

  “Is it just me, or did the cowboy’s tone just change?” said Jennifer quietly to the paramedic as they walked into the sunshine.

  “It changed. I don’t trust that guy, never did,”

  A middle-aged dark-haired gentleman with sergeant stripes on his uniform approached. “Ms. Spencer, Sgt. Christie. You’ve had quite an ordeal. I have orders to get you to North Bay. Your flight leaves in an hour.”

  She felt the paramedic squeeze her hand. She turned to him and looked up at the young man who was probably her age—her lifeline after Mack.