Authors: Carolyn Davidson
Push the thought away as she may try, she was recently finding it difficult to be in the presence of youth without feeling something approaching hostility. How irritating that so many of the clichéd statements you heard over and over throughout your life turned out true, but there it was. You don’t appreciate youth until it’s gone. Tommy’s girlfriend was the perfect example. She had caught herself staring at the girl the last time she saw her, examining the clearly defined lines of her eyelids, the tight skin of her jaw line. She almost had to suppress the urge to claw at it. If youth was a possession she would have ripped it from her, but all she could do was look at it and smile, and try not to compare it to the reflection in her own mirror.
Surveying her own image over the bathroom sink again, Evelyn forced herself to turn the hanging mirror to the close up view. As she dotted eye cream onto the delicate skin under her eyes she congratulated herself that she had made the right decision in keeping calm about the Sarah situation. Things seemed to have died down in recent months, and while Tom still stood eagerly to attention every time Sarah entered the room, the girl seemed to have grown tired of the attention, and for the most part avoided any contact.
It seemed things had taken their own course without her having to confront Tom, and make a scene she didn’t want to be part of. Certainly not when her role would be that of the bitter older woman, jealous of her husband’s wandering eye. And surely Tom knew what would have happened if he ever took things too far.
Susan had to admit to herself that she would rather not bring Eddie in. There was no question it had to be done; Lee Daly had given Eddie a potential motive for Sarah’s murder, and motives were something they had been fairly short on so far. But for one, Susan had always been of the mind that a motive was nice, but it was proof that put people behind bars. For two, she found it a stretch to believe that Eddie, freshly freed from jail, would immediately blow it by bludgeoning a girl to death for having an abortion while he was in.
She had seen stranger things, Susan reminded herself, and her suppositions were by the wayside. Here they were, Eddie sitting across from her looking extremely uncomfortable to be in the police station interview room, and Driscoll beside her with the tape recorder ready.
“I was just letting off steam,” Eddie told them. “It was my first time out since being released, it was supposed to be a welcome back or something. I had a few drinks. I hadn’t had any alcohol in three years; to be honest I don’t really remember what I was saying.”
He looked up from the table to give both Susan and her constable an even stare. “I haven’t been partying since I got out, except for that one night. I’m doing good, got a job at the lumber place in Ferndale. I’ve got plans, and I’m not going to mess it up by getting into that scene.”
Or bashing a young girl’s skull in with a rock, Susan felt rise to her lips, and Gary saved her by stepping in.
“I’m confused on two accounts,” her constable told the witness. “First off, how did you know Sarah Harmon had an abortion? And second, how could you be sure that the pregnancy she had terminated was yours?” he questioned.
“I’m not,” Eddie replied, “I don’t. I was being stupid,” he said, and the red streaks on his cheeks suggested he did feel embarrassment. “My cousin’s friend works at that clinic in the city, she’s a receptionist or something. She told my cousin that someone from Lion’s Head was there, she gave her Sarah’s name. My cousin mentioned it to me one time she came to visit.”
He looked up at them again, a contained calmness in his pale blue eyes. “You have a lot of time to think in there, and I guess I got thinking about the timing of it all, and that it would have fit. It could have fit. She was a special girl, maybe I got carried away thinking about what could have happened if things didn’t get so messed up. If I didn’t mess up,” he finished.
It crossed Susan’s mind that Eddie would be close to Tommy in age, and she was surprised at the disparity between them were they to be put side by side. Similar in physique, but there was a maturity to Eddie that likely came from the experiences he’d been through.
Gary asked Eddie a few more questions regarding his whereabouts the morning of Sarah’s murder, something they had already verified, and whether he had any further contact with Sarah after the incident at the party.
“No,” he told them, “that was it. It wasn’t like I could have turned up on her doorstep, not like she would have wanted me to turn up. Besides,” he shrugged at Susan, “it wasn’t long after that I ended up in the slammer.”
After a few more routine questions they dismissed Eddie from the room. Susan avoided Gary’s questioning look, and asked him to write the interview report up. She had always had a strong faith in her sense of intuition, her gut feeling when it came to the job, and thus far into her career it hadn’t let her down. But it wasn’t something she voiced to other people, police or civilian. That would be like jinxing it.
*
Elizabeth looked down at the cards she held in her hand, the names Detective Inspector Susan Kovalsky and Constable Gary Driscoll printed in bold blue font. Should she pick one and give them a call, she wondered.
It was probably nothing. A feeling that someone was watching her when she took her bike out of the garage in the morning. A shadow she might have seen near the trees bordering the driveway, which disappeared when she looked closer.
Maybe it was the shock of what had happened to Sarah that had shaken things loose, brought back the anxiety she had felt as a child, and it was turning shadows into bogey men. Elizabeth could remember like it was yesterday the stress that had filled their old house, stretched out like invisible wires you might trip over if you said the wrong thing or walked in a room at the wrong time. She still occasionally felt a clench in the pit of her stomach when the telephone rang, because back then chances were that it wasn’t the parent of your friend from school asking if it’s ok if you had a sleepover at their place anymore. It was more likely to be an angry voice accusing her father of taking money that wasn’t his, and how dare she live all high and mighty when they had nothing left?
When it all started her parents had instructed her and her sister to hang up the phone immediately if they received a crank call, explaining that those people were mistaken and her father hadn’t done anything wrong. But as the weeks and months passed and the calls still came she would find herself staying on the line, feeling it was her responsibility to at least listen to these callers, even if she couldn’t do anything to help.
She could remember one time her father had come close to tearing the phone from the wall when he found her gripping the receiver with white knuckles, listening wide- eyed to the caller who could be heard shouting obscenities even from her father’s position in the doorway.
It was something that was never discussed in their new home. They left these uncomfortable memories behind them like unwanted skins they had no more use for. Elizabeth had always wished she could put it behind them like the rest of her family appeared to, but it turned out she was the lucky one with the elephant’s memory. She was never able to fully shake the feeling that the rug of their new home could be as easily pulled out from under them as their old one had been.
As it turned out her family had all just been better at covering it up then she was, because now that Sarah was gone she could see the old shadows and accusations back as a constant presence in her parents’ eyes.
Making her decision, she put the cards back in her wallet. They would likely tell her she was just being jumpy; how could she not be scared after what happened to Sarah? Or worse, they would think she was trying to get attention, to move the focus from her sister, always the star even in death. Well, she didn’t want the attention after all, better to go under the radar as always, to keep her head down and wait for her turn to come.
*
“I hate to bring this to you, especially in the middle of an investigation,” a small worry crease formed between Ginny’s eyes, quickly disappearing back into her unflawed complexion as she continued speaking. “But he’s been acting strangely for some time now. I’m only bringing it to you now because I’m concerned it might affect his professional performance.”
“What kind of strange behaviour?” Susan questioned, her mind delivering her the unwelcome image of Aldershot in his far from clean kitchen, asking her to join him for dinner or cards. Maybe she should have found some time to put aside for him.
“He’s been making the co-op student pretty uncomfortable, for one,” Ginny told her. “We have a student from the Owen Sound campus doing her lab hours with us. She’s pretty good, might have a future with us.”
“Okay,” Susan pressed, “so what has George been doing to her?”
Ginny laughed, twisting her hair into a quick bun behind her head as she spoke. “It’s not so much that he’s doing anything to her,” she replied. “It’s just that he’s taking more time than he should with her, and with things that aren’t relevant.”
“Any chance he’s just taking an interest in her as a protégé type figure?” Susan asked hopefully. The last thing she wanted to deal with right now was a staff member in a disciplinary situation, especially someone as experienced and critical to the team as their head pathologist. If this did develop into an actual issue she’d have to contact the Commissioner.
“I don’t know,” Ginny replied doubtfully. “I guess it’s possible. It’s just that the stuff he’s been showing her is pretty out there.” She paused, waving her hands in front of her vaguely, as if to rid herself of an unpleasant scent.
“I stopped by Nadia’s desk yesterday to go over some work she’d completed, and George was sitting with her. It looked like he’d pulled some old murder case files, and was going through them with Nadia. When I happened by he had the autopsy pictures of Leanne Nordstrom out.”
“Leanne Nordstrom,” Susan didn’t have to shuffle through her memories long to come up with the name. “Young woman murdered more than a decade back. Stabbed over a dozen times.”
“That’s right,” Ginny confirmed. “I was just finishing up school, I remember it was splashed all over the papers. Pretty horrific, the body was found discarded at the dump.”
“Any idea why George was covering this with your girl?” Susan asked her colleague.
“That’s the problem. I can’t think of any reason he would be digging that up.” Ginny hesitated. “And there’s more.”
“Alright already, girl, spill it,” Susan said with half mock impatience.
Ginny continued, “Nadia mentioned to me that George has been telling her that he’s expecting them to see more vics at the morgue soon, that he thinks there’s a serial killer out there responsible for Sarah’s death.”
“What?” Susan asked slowly, drawing the word out in disbelief. “Where on earth would he come up with that? And why would he be giving his unfounded opinions to the co-op student?”
“No idea,” Ginny shook her head. “You see why I brought it to you. I studied under a couple eccentric pathologists at uni, I think they pride themselves on it. But I’ve worked with George awhile, and he’s always been pretty straight up. It all seems so out of character. Maybe he just came back to work too quickly after his wife, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t bring it to you,” she finished.
“Alright, thanks Ginny,” Susan stood, swiping her keys off the table. “I’ll have a talk with him.”
“Thanks, Susan,” Ginny gave the Inspector a wave as she turned back to the lab.
Susan left the building, feeling the headache that had been gnawing at her skull all morning take a deeper hold as she walked across the parking lot.
Leanne Nordstrom, that was a name she hadn’t heard in a long time. The case was closed just before she made her transfer north, so she had never had a close look at it, but from what she’d read in the papers or soaked up through office chit chat, they had never found the perp. It was remembered in the area due to the violence of the crime and the fact that the murderer remained at large. Some light reading to look into when she got a chance, she filed a mental reminder.
Susan eyed the sky as she climbed into her SUV. It was late dusk, which meant George would likely be tucked up at home. Good time for a visit she told herself, dreading the thought. Switching her signal from left to right at the last minute, Susan changed her mind. This would be something best dealt with in a professional setting; she’d pay him a visit at the lab tomorrow.
*
The sun had long since set as Susan pulled into her driveway. Coming up to the middle of October, the long days of summer were shortening perceptibly. Susan had found the early sunsets of winter’s confining effect heightened since moving North, without the city lights to artificially lengthen the days. It was a trade-off she took gladly, she reminded herself, looking up at the night sky.
She could remember her first nights here staring up at the stars in awe: nowhere in the city could you find a darkness deep enough to allow the stars to be visible in such number. Who could create this, was the thought that came to her mind every time she took the moment to look up on such a night. It was enough to make you consider finding a religion to believe in, or at least look for an explanation that fit into your world view. Her ‘weltanschauung’ she remembered with a half-smile. The word her old boyfriend Dan had used to describe a person’s take on the world.
Susan brought her attention back to the present and hefted the cardboard box from the passenger seat of the SUV, closing the truck door with her foot. She had brought some case files home to have a closer look, to see if there was anything they might have missed. Approaching her patio steps she squinted into the dusk to better make out the shape of something on the mat at the foot of her front door. Thinking it must be a delivery package that had arrived while she was at work, something on its wrapping gleaming in the moonlight, Susan bent closer to have a look before putting her key in the lock. She recoiled when she saw what it was, just able to catch the box as it almost slipped from her grip.
A dead racoon from the look of it, intact except for its skin, neatly removed. Not by any act of nature, that was certain. Clenching her jaw Susan forced herself not to be repulsed, calmly placing the box beside the mat and walking behind the house. Unlocking the shed she took a square nosed shovel from where it hung and returned to the patio.
Roadkill, she told herself, picking the carcass up with the flat blade of the shovel. Skinned by human hand without a doubt, but she could hope whoever did it chose as the vehicle for their message an animal that had already met its end from another cause. She walked well into the forest before digging a hole to bury the animal. The last thing she needed was a bear poking around the back of the place, or the coyotes you could hear in the distance on a clear night coming too close.
Patting the surface of the small grave down firmly, Susan returned the shovel to the shed, and retrieved the box of files as she stepped into the house. She turned to survey the front of the property and the road beyond it before closing the door behind her, taking a care to lock it that she didn’t normally take. No outline of a parked car or anything out of the ordinary. She suspected whoever it was had made their statement and would leave it at that. And she had her suspicions of who that person was.