by John Hunt
He circled the block, wary of the police although he knew he needn’t be. They could not allocate resources to the girls’ protection indefinitely. Especially since they believed the Jackal had moved on. They couldn’t conceive of a reason of why he would return to Olivia or the other girls. Considering all the steps he had take to remain anonymous, he knew the stupidity of his actions. Even though the police hadn’t identified him he was taking a needless risk. A stupid move. He berated himself to get the hell out of there! Terrible idea, even being in this area. The Mount Everest of idiocy. Why did he even come this way? Time to go, time to get out of the area. He decided to do just that and surprised himself by parking out front of a house two doors down from Olivia’s. Even worse, he got out of the car and patted his pocket to make sure the stun gun was there. The hard shell reassured him. Was he doing this? Completely crazy. Still, his feet crunched in the snow, toes pointing inexorably towards her front door, the light above the door spilling across the front step like a golden welcome mat.
-20-
Winter in Canada brought the darkness of evening early. Olivia could go into the kitchen, the soft light of day a pleasant backdrop framed by a frosty window, fill a glass of water and when she looked up, stars studded the black sky. It seemed that quick to Olivia. And she noticed the night now. She was attuned to it. Night brought the fear. Night hid the devils lurking beyond the brightness of her window, or the men wearing animal heads wanting to take her and sneak her away like a princess in some twisted fairy tale. A fairy tale where the currency was an ear, some toes and fingers as well.
The worst time of her day was waiting for her dad to get home. Sitting in the living room, the street outside situated in her peripheral vision, the glow of the iPad in her lap, she waited for the headlights of his car to announce his arrival. She used one finger to tap the screen while reviewing the properties her dad sent her when he was supposed to be busy at work. Her other hand trailed fingers over the handle of the knife. It had become a part of her. She couldn’t imagine being without it. And she wouldn’t ever be. Not if she could help it.
When the doorbell rang, to say it startled her would be an understatement. She jumped enough the iPad popped off her lap and landed on the carpet. Her entire body shook as shots of adrenaline raced through her. She hadn’t noticed and hadn’t been alert enough to see someone walk up to her door. She had placed herself by the window for that purpose. So she could see outside and be prepared for anything. She feared getting complacent. Complacency could get her killed. The relative safety of the past month must have softened her defences. She touched the knife at her hip. She unbuttoned the tab around the handle and slid the knife out to make sure it was clear of obstructions. From her position on the couch, she could see someone approach up until they reached the front door. Once the person arrived at the door, a bush and pillar blocked her view. She didn’t see anyone walk up to the door. She missed that initial sight and again became disturbed by her lack of awareness. Who was at the door? She patted the knife at her side and noticing she had been holding her breath, exhaled to calm her jerking heart.
Her feet touched the carpet. She stood, listening. On silent feet, she crept toward the front door. She would be able to see who stood there through a small window, but then the person could see her too. Angling herself, she continued to the door. She spotted an exhale of cold breath. The Jackal wouldn’t stand there would he? He wouldn’t be this obvious after being so careful for so long. Didn’t make sense. Always better to be safe. No need to rush. Caution was now the rule. She knew who it wasn’t. It sure as shit wasn’t her dad. Her dad would’ve just walked in and she would have seen the lights of his car pull in. She wasn’t expecting anyone else and she could think of no one she wanted to see. She could ignore the doorbell and wait for the person to go away. Staying in the shadow of the hallway, Olivia leaned her head closer, to see who stood there. When she got a glimpse, her gaze took on the aspect of someone who had been struck with a hammer. Her mouth lost moisture and her lips stuck to her teeth. The person turned to leave and Olivia rushed to the door, unlocked it and swung it open.
. . .
“Dale?”
“Hey Olivia.”
They stared at each other, time and circumstances making them little more than strangers. Olivia flicked her hair to cover her ear and then shoving the missing fingered hand in her pocket, offered a shy smile.
Dale said, “Sorry, I should have called. I didn’t have your number anymore.”
“No, no. That’s okay. You wanna step in?”
“Yeah. Just for a second. I’ve got to get home.”
She moved back so he could squeeze in the small foyer and he shut the door behind him. Talking at once they said,
“How have you-“
“It’s good to-“
Olivia, smiled and said, “Sorry. Go ahead.”
“It’s, uh, good to see you.”
“Yeah, you too. It’s been so long ago since I last saw you.”
“Five years. It is a long time.”
A pause in the conversation gave Olivia time to study the bunny ears that paralleled her shins. Jeez. Wearing her bunny slippers. Nice one. She lifted her eyes and noticed Dale hadn’t changed much. Except for the beard. He never had a beard when she knew him but he was a kid then. He was right. Five years is a long time. The eyes were the same. Kind eyes, full of compassion. She felt her own welling up. He adored her upon a time. He would have done anything for her. How could he like her anymore? Mangled, ugly, used and abused, what did she have to offer him or anyone? What was he doing here? To remind her of what she lost? Petty thoughts and she knew it. He came to see her because he cared. He always cared. He had always been kind to her and to everyone he met. To see him reminded her of all she had lost. It hurt her and she projected her own insecurities onto him. She exhaled, not wanting to lift her head and reveal her shiny eyes even though she stood in shadow. The doorbell rang again and she emitted a little yelp. Her hand gripped her knife. Dale noticed the movement and his eyes bulged. For a moment she felt ashamed.
The door opened behind Dale and Frank paused, sensing the awkward moment.
He said, “Why’s the door unlocked?”
“Hey Uncle Frank. You remember Dale?”
His dark gaze eyed Dale with suspicion. “No. I don’t.”
“I dated him. A long time ago.”
“Oh. Hi, Dale.”
Dale nodded and said, “Sir.”
“Sir? I’m not in the army. You can call me Frank.”
They crowded each other in the small foyer. Olivia wished Frank would just spit out what he came for.
Olivia said, “Dad’s not home yet.”
“What? Oh. Yeah, I noticed his car wasn’t in the drive.”
To Dale, Frank said, “Is your car on the street?”
Dale said, “Yeah. I didn’t want to block the driveway.”
Dale handed Olivia a piece of paper.
“Here’s my number. Please call me. I’d like it if you would.”
“Okay. I’ll do that.”
Dale smiled, “Great. That’s…really great. Best time to get me is in the evenings. During the day, I’m in class and I have my phone turned off.”
Olivia said, “Class?”
“Yeah. Second year of law school.”
“How’s that going?”
“Good. Good. A lot of work, a lot of reading. But interesting, for the most part.”
Frank stood next to them, frowning, watching the exchange with squinted eyes. Dale glanced at him and turned to Olivia. “Well, I better get going.”
“Okay. I’ll call you.”
“Gre
at.” He turned to the door. Frank already had it open for him. Dale stopped at the door and said, “You look great Olivia. I hope you know that.”
He continued out the door and Frank closed it behind him, a little too hard for Olivia’s liking.
She said, “What’s your problem?”
“Mine? What’s yours?”
“Staring him down like that? Really?”
“Um, excuse me. Do we know who the other kidnapper is?”
Olivia rolled her eyes, “Please! Dale’s not the Jackal.”
“How do you know that?”
“I just do.”
“Very scientific of you. You should join the police force.”
“What are you doing here?”
His mouth clamped shut and his eyebrows dropped. “I left my hammer drill here. Just came by to grab it.”
The doorbell rang.
Olivia twitched and her hand drifted to the knife.
Frank said, “Jesus. Relax would ya?”
Frank opened the door. A Swiss Chalet delivery driver stood on the stoop. He wore a ball cap and held a bag of steaming food in his arms. The pillar cast a shadow on the front of his body. Steam from his mouth billowed from the darkness of his face.
He said, “That’ll be $34.50.”
Olivia said, “I didn’t order anything.
“What number is this? Eighty-nine?”
“No. That’s the next house over.”
“Huh? Which way?”
Olivia pointed to her left.
“That way.”
“Thanks. Sorry about that.”
“No problem.”
-21-
The next day, the Jackal lay in his bed staring up at the sun cast pillars where the light snuck through the curtains on his ceiling. He didn’t want to get out of bed. The covers were warm and besides that, he couldn’t summon the energy. His stomach clenched like a fist. He glanced at the bedside clock. It read 1:37pm. He had been up since 4:00am. Thoughts of Olivia tortured him. Her beauty broke his heart. He had missed his opportunity. He could’ve taken her away and they could be together for as long as she would last. Only there had been a fucking party at her house last night and he didn’t even make it onto her lawn before bolting away. There was no way to do it without witnesses. Too much risk and now, after the moment of seeing her, his pain waxed stronger. The very thought of leaving his bed sapped his energy. This must be what they called depression. He had always thought depression affected the weak-minded, those who perpetually wallowed in self pity like a pig in their pen, too stupid to realize they lived in shit. How could it affect him? The all powerful Jackal! A man of indomitable will. To feel this…soft, didn’t seem real. A sigh turned into a sob. Fucking weakling! He swallowed his sorrow as best he could. He gripped the sheets in his fists. He couldn’t stay in bed forever. He had things to do. He needed a reprieve from the pain Olivia’s loss caused him.
What did he do before? When the desire to take her became so strong his hands shook? When the image of her lying on her bed in the pink room called to him, suffusing him with need and when he realized he wasn’t quite ready to destroy her he had at least been able to visit his others. Pound his anger into their soft flesh supplanting Olivia’s face and voice, their screams her screams, their pleas her pleas. There had always been the other girls. The ones he didn’t hold out on. Only after he glutted himself on their fine skin would the desire subside. He could function again, wear the face others saw, never suspecting his terrible true one.
He shifted in bed. Was that the answer? To take another in her place? It would have to be. How could he hope to function otherwise? He thought of Jen. Between her and Lucy, she resembled Olivia more. The face. The way she cried and pleaded was almost identical to Olivia’s. If he took her, played out his fantasies on her instead of Olivia, it might provide him room to breathe. But then he would be back to the problem of Olivia. He would worry about that later. Thinking about Jen, he became aroused. Depressed people don’t get hard-ons. He grinned while considering Jen. Her despondency troubled him. Near the end, before she had been freed by Olivia, he noticed Jen would escape into her mind whenever they entered the room. She would become so detached it was like fucking a flesh mannequin. He had considered her for the provisioning room and she would have been there shortly if Olivia hadn’t intervened. His erection throbbed. He could break her out of her funk. Nothing like terror to sharpen an otherwise dull mind. Might be time for a visit.
Where might she be? At home? He had failed to keep an eye on his other girls because he had been mourning his loss. Olivia dominated his thoughts since she had escaped him. Still, it wouldn’t be hard to find her. The news archives would help. And Lucy? She made the talk show circuits. Not into hiding that one. It almost seemed like she didn’t worry about him. Silly girl. She would be fun to break. The refocussing of his goals energized him. Now, he had something to look forward to. Planning, hunting and the taking. All of it culminating in a night of delight and plaintive screams. His erection ached. He slipped out of bed. Time for a shower. Time to find release. Which one to take first? Jen appeared to be the more broken of the two. Ready to accept her death. Maybe she had been waiting for it all this time, waiting for him. In that regard, it would be downright rude of him to not make a house call.
-22-
Olivia and Harry decided to move to the house in the city, near downtown Hamilton and the police station. Initially, they almost passed on it. Harry couldn’t do the work needed on the place to make it habitable and to hire out someone else would be too costly. Harry would have to ask Frank to help and the thought of it stressed him out and he almost quashed the whole idea then. It shouldn’t have. Frank was his brother for crying out loud and they did get along, for the most part. Truth was, Frank was singularly the most selfish person he knew and if he wasn’t his brother, he didn’t think Frank would be someone he liked. Sadly, the inverse was also true. The tension caused him to wipe at his upper lip more and more. Olivia made sure he went to the meetings by going with him and her supportive presence was welcome. It also kept her from being home alone at night. She didn’t like the night. Harry kept inviting Frank to dinner for the purposes of asking for help and Frank kept declining citing work responsibilities. Harry told Olivia that Frank suspected coming by would end up costing him. She thought Harry was correct but she also thought it more simple than that. Frank’s work did keep him busy and family had always been secondary to him, like something he had to deal with because it was expected of him, an obligation. They couldn’t go ahead with the house unless Frank agreed to lend a hand. Let’s be real here, unless Frank did most, if not all the work, they couldn’t even consider the house downtown. Harry worried someone would snap up the house while they sat around waiting for Frank to show up. Because of the state of the house Olivia thought it unlikely. The house, although situated in a convenient place, possessed the derelict air of a squatter’s abode. No doubt some homeless people would be upset to see it sold.
During this time, Dale and Olivia spoke to each other on the phone often. They were getting to know each other again even though it could never be the same. How could it? They were both such different people now. Funny, before her unfortunate incarceration, she felt the powerful one in the relationship. Not to say he would take her shit if she tried to take advantage of him. No, it was more that he would do more for her than she would ever do for him. That he loved her more than she loved him. Nothing would be inconvenient to him if it helped her. She remembered once, phoning him after a night out with her friends, drunk at a house party, asking him to come pick her up and drive all her friends home. He did it. No complaints about it or expectation of repayment. Even when her friend Heather puked in the back seat, he cleaned it up the next day
before she could. By the time she showed up with coffee and bagels, the car was spotless. If that were her, she wouldn’t have picked him up. She would have told him to call a cab and fallen back asleep before she hit the hang up button. Strange, to think such thoughts now, years later. She never thought she took him for granted. In retrospect, maybe she did.
Now she felt afraid and excited at the same time. What did he think of her? She had so much baggage now. Scarred, externally and internally. She refused to leave the house to meet him for coffee. She felt safe leaving the house with her dad and didn’t feel comfortable with anyone else. He offered to chaperone her around and she turned him down with stuttering and inadequate words, unable to describe to him the terror the offer inspired. She just couldn’t do it. Not yet. All those faces in the crowd and one of them could be him, the Jackal, and she wouldn’t know it. Stalking her, waiting for a moment when she would be vulnerable to take her away again or just end her. Odd considering she could go to the meetings with her dad. Her dad just made the outside world appear not so scary, like he carried a staff of safety with him. Or it could be as simple as Harry being her dad. Olivia thought it better to stay home, in relative safety, with the alarm chain under her shirt ready to depress in a moment despite the gallant offerings of Dale’s protection. And that’s what she did. Stayed warm and comfortable inside while winter piled up beneath her windows, brightening up the night with a crystalline white carpet while contemplating the new house.
She studied the floor plans, dreaming of what could be done to it to make it more secure. She wanted it impenetrable to those unwelcome. They just needed Frank’s help to make the place habitable first. When he agreed to come over for dinner, it took them both by surprise.
Harry and Olivia prepared a roast dinner with Yorkshire pudding, one of Frank’s favourites and intended to stuff him into a stupor so he would readily agree to assist them in restoring the house at a significantly discounted price. Free would be ideal but knowing Frank, unlikely.
