Doll House

by John Hunt

  “No problem. Now, I’m going to tell you everything I know. You deserve nothing less.”

  . . .

  After Davis left Olivia closed the door and locked it behind him. She felt exhausted and leaned her head against the door, her head swimming with information. He did indeed tell her everything. He gave her a candid run down of the investigation and what he told her had scared her. Maybe it would have been better if she remained ignorant of certain things. Too late now. Once learned she couldn’t unlearn.

  “Would you like another tea?” Harry said.

  “No. I’m good. I think I’m going to bed. I have a lot going through my head right now.”

  “I bet.” Harry put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “What’d you think of Davis?”

  “I have more faith in him than the other guy. Determined for sure. Which is good for us.”

  “Yeah. I like him too.”

  “Goodnight dad.”

  “Alright hon. If you need anything, let me know.”

  “I will.”

  Olivia climbed the stairs to her room rubbing the handle of the knife at her hip. She turned on her iPod attached to small twin speakers and flopped onto her bed, too tired to remove her clothing. The music proved a soothing backdrop to the turmoil of her thoughts as she reviewed her conversation with the detective. Davis laid out the entire investigation to her. She had a lot of questions at the end and more continued to travel the synapses of her brain on a highway to nowhere.

  Everything started with her escape. The Guelph Police investigated her abduction but that soon hit a wall and all leads were exhausted and the file was forgotten and untouched. Until she escaped, the police had no idea women were being abducted and murdered. When they did find out, they had to investigate in reverse. When Olivia killed the Gorilla and helped the other girls to escape, she did it in the town of Erin. The Ontario Provincial Police were the responsible agency for the town. They were the primary investigators of the murders. They pulled resources from across the province to assist. Detective Davis, a seasoned homicide investigator was assigned the lead. These investigations were complex and required a vast amount of resources to conduct. They generate a mountain of information that needed to be sifted through to determine importance. The forensics officers spent over two weeks in the house. They recovered DNA and fingerprints. They recovered and identified the two poor women in the freezer. The found body parts of other women they couldn’t identify. Victims generally don’t have their DNA or fingerprints on file and there were no dental records to pursue. How to match an arm to a description of a missing girl? Or a femur for that matter? They were asking family of reported missing girls to submit DNA for comparison. It was a shot in the dark, but they took it. Anything to know, to end the pain for someone out there waiting for news. For now, the police could do nothing to give them closure.

  The Gorilla, Shawn Grady, left evidence of himself all over the house. Why wouldn’t he? It was his place according to the bank records and the land registry office. The Jackal left DNA and fingerprints too however he wasn’t on file anywhere. That meant he had never been charged with any offence requiring DNA or fingerprints. If they did end up identifying him, they would have all the evidence they needed to convict. But in order to do that, they needed to find him. They exhausted all connections Shawn Grady had with anyone, anywhere. Grady fit the typical serial killer type. He was a loner and social enough to fit in but no close friends. He had been well liked in his job as an electrician. No one had a bad thing to say about him. Only the income he generated didn’t cover the expense of his paid off house and his shiny new truck. A forensic audit of his financials couldn’t trace the money back to any benefactor leaving the police wondering where the money came from. All it proved was Shawn Grady owned the house he converted into the prison where she had been kept. It did tend to support a theory the Jackal may be financially independent or well off. But other than that tidbit, there were no other avenues to pursue to determine his identity.

  Then the police started backgrounds on the victims. How did these killers find them? Why were they chosen and how were they picked up? Olivia had been abducted in Guelph, Jen from Barrie and Lucy from Burlington. The two dead girls were last seen in London. Four different police services with different records and policies on how to investigate. Olivia’s disappearance was treated as suspicious from the beginning and so a lot of time and resources was spent on the investigation.

  Lucy’s disappearance was suspicious but with no leads it had been soon investigated into a dead end. Jen had been fighting with her parents a lot and had run away from home more than once before. Barrie Police thought she had run off again. They didn’t treat it as an abduction. A standard missing report was submitted with minimal follow up. Even if located she was over eighteen years old and the police couldn’t make her go home. They could only determine her well being. The girls from London were escorts, advertising their services on the internet, meeting strange men in motel rooms. Sad to say, those girls vanished all the time. No one investigating these disappearances thought they had a serial rapist and killer running loose and the police services didn’t communicate to each other other than putting the girls’ names on the police computer database as missing.

  This sort of thing happened before with Bernardo and Homolka. Bernardo, a prolific rapist operating out of Scarborough, met and was encouraged by Homolka to escalate to torture and murder. Although, Davis had said, Bernardo didn’t need the encouragement. After that had happened the police put a system into place to track similar incidents across Canada. That way, if a guy like Bernardo committed crimes in Burlington, Scarborough and Brampton, the information would be collected in one database and the police agencies would be notified of the similar incidents and then pool their resources to find the perpetrator. This system, called ViCLAS, collected incidents of a certain nature. The abductions involving Olivia, Jen and Lucy were so unremarkable and dissimilar they didn’t fit the criteria for a ViCLAS submission. No one had a clue they were connected until Olivia fought her way out of the basement.

  Imagine trying to collect five year old evidence. Track down leads and re-interview people about years’ past events. All trails to the victims were occluded by time. If there happened to be video, it would be long erased and gone. After having this explained to her, Olivia could appreciate the difficulties. Davis wasn’t complaining. He wanted her to understand and know even though the likeliness of the evidence even existing was marginal, they still looked for it in the hope something would lead them to the Jackal. She knew he wanted to find him and wouldn’t stop until he did. His determination swam behind his eyes.

  During the video interview, Davis kept asking questions about her strange relationship with the Jackal. He wanted her perspective on why he treated her differently than Lucy and Jen. He smiled when she said, “How would I know that? He’s fucking crazy. I don’t know what makes crazy tick. I don’t even wish I did.”

  He turned off the camera, concluding the interview and Olivia said, “You spent a lot of time on my thoughts on the Jackal. Can I ask why?”

  Folding up the wires he said, “Absolutely. I waited to tell you this. I didn’t it want to influence your interview. It’s pretty messed up.”

  “I can take it.”

  He said, “I know. You’ve proven it the hard way. Probably the hardest way there is. So here it is. Jen got it pretty bad. He did things to her. We think it happened after, you know, he killed her, though I think it was either a message or even worse, a compulsion.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He cut her up. He took her ear, two fingers and three toes.”

  Olivia’s heart stalled in her chest. Little nodules of skin appeared on her arms as a chill overtook her.

  S
he said, “Like me. He made her like me.”

  Davis packed away the gear, clicked the hard case shut and sat before her. He placed a hand on her mangled one and didn’t flinch. Not even a little. She liked him for that.

  “You’re the key, Olivia. I don’t want to scare you but you need to know these things to protect yourself. I think those other girls were practice. I think the Jackal wanted you from the start, from a long time ago. That’s why all the girls looked like you. The Gorilla? Just a game to him. All you girls were less than human. Playthings in a twisted doll house. To the Jackal though, you were someone special. Someone he fantasized about and if he took you or killed you, the illusion he built up around you would shatter and then what would he have? I believe the Jackal knew you and wanted you for years and took up a partner to mold and intimidate for the express purpose of one day owning you. The Gorilla was a buffer. A straw man to the Jackal. You were always the prize. I know at some point in your life you’ve met the Jackal. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn you know him, when we catch the asshole.”

  Sweat dotted her brow. Know him? The Jackal? Why is that so absurd? Didn’t she have these very same thoughts before? Why else the extra care the Jackal spent on her?

  Olivia said, “Wait. Is that why you were asking about the guy from the recreation centre? The guy I’d seen at the university the night I was taken?”

  “I want to know who he is. I want to know why he was there. And I’m going to talk to everyone that ever swam in that pool or walked in those halls until I know who he is.”

  He stood, “I gotta go. Here’s my card and my personal number. Call me anytime. If you have a thought you think is silly, call me anyways. I want to know. After spending so much time with the Jackal, you have insight I think would be stupid to ignore.” Davis nodded at Harry and said, “Look after each other.”

  “You can bet on it.”

  Davis left, creating as much mystery as he dispelled. Did she know the Jackal? The idea she might already know the Jackal, maybe spoken to him before, maybe even bumped into him made the hair on her arms stand at attention and let her know fear has no limits.

  She fell asleep on top of her blankets with her iPod still playing. She dreamed of the Jackal that night. He snuck into her room and sat on her bed. In her dream, she awoke to him stroking her hair. Her head lay in his lap and she looked up at him. She asked him to take off his mask. He did. Before she could see his face, she woke up, sweat making her clothes cling to her body.

  She drank from the tap in the washroom and returned to her room. She put on pyjamas and lay down. She didn’t turn off the iPod. She liked the background noise when her thoughts strayed. Olivia slept with her knife in her hand. After all that happened, she needed it. It was her shield against the night.

  The investigation plodded on. Davis contacted Olivia once a week to update her and to see if she were ok. It was different from the last time. Before, the police practically ignored her after interviewing her. Now, Davis called her weekly with updates. She felt good about that. Once again, after some time, the media vans left without a word from Olivia or Harry. The police stopped maintaining their daily vigil and opted to increase patrols in her area again. If she stood at her window, she would see a patrol car swing by twice in an hour. It was good to see but a lot could happen in the time the police weren’t there. Just ask Jen.

  After Davis imparted his belief she knew the Jackal, Olivia brooded over it. Picked at it, like a scab that wouldn’t heal. It seemed absurd to think the Jackal might be Dale. He would have been so young when the first girl had been taken. And how could he control and intimidate a much older and violent Shawn Grady? It didn’t seem possible. She had never witnessed Dale get angry or hurt anyone. Shawn didn’t seem the type who would ever take orders from anyone he thought to be inferior. A young teenage boy like Dale would fit that criteria.

  Davis thought the Jackal financed the torture house, paid for it and let Shawn be the figurehead. Dale’s family did have money. How could he access enough of it to buy a house, convert the basement into cells and put in a walk in freezer?

  She discounted Dale as the Jackal and moved onto the mystery man at the recreation centre, trying to remember what he looked like. She never saw him with anyone. Most times, he would be by the pool, a book open in his lap just like most of the other parents waiting for their kids to finish their lessons. She didn’t remember seeing him talk to anyone. Never saw a partner with him. He roamed the halls, ending up near her somewhere, perched on a bench with a book and sometimes a coffee. Tall, strong, the features of his face blurred in her mind. As though she were trying to focus a camera lens yet unable to bring out the details in what she wanted to capture. He wore a hat, most times. A black cap with a yellow ‘P’ on it. She should share that with Davis.

  Olivia called him and told him. He said, “Pittsburgh Pirates.”

  “Excuse me.”

  “The hat. The hat is for the Pittsburgh Pirates. A baseball team.”

  “Is that helpful?”

  “Absolutely. Another detail to use. Good work. I appreciate you calling. Please continue to do so.”

  The compliment filled her with a warm glow and she tried to remember more. She didn’t want to push it too hard. She didn’t think much of him back when she worked at the recreation centre. He happened to be one of the guys she would see a lot. It appeared menacing in retrospect. Especially considering she had seen him in Guelph on the same night she disappeared. She wanted to be objective about him, like a good detective and recall facts. Coincidences like those were hard to ignore.

  At first, the news of Jen filled her with despair at her own chances of survival. Did she think the Jackal would let her escape from him? He would wait, bide his time and appear like a demon in the night to whisk her to a new hidey-hole to use at his leisure. The thought brought on violent shivers making her teeth clack together.

  Harry did his best to distract her with thoughts of the new home. Attempting to entice her into conversations about what walls to take down and what new tub to put in the washroom. It failed. After the news vans left and the police moved from their static post to periodic checks, she revisited phase three of her ‘how to get healthy’ plan. She wanted to institute it when she moved into the new house. In order to move into the new house, they had to sell this one. She needed to get moving on it. She decided to spend more time getting the house ready to view. Busy hands, busy mind. Olivia still startled at noises and a light sheen would appear on her forehead when a moving shadow would entice visions of the Jackal. She walked around the inside of the house gazing out the windows for new footprints and sometimes, when the sun hid behind a cloud and darkness descended seemingly in a blink, she would drop under a window and shiver, expecting the tall animal ears on the mask to walk by her window. She hated darkness. It hid so much.

  Despite these setbacks, the clutter disappeared, furniture rearranged to accentuate space and walls were coated with fresh paint. Their home was ready to view.

  . . .

  “We sold it!”

  “What? Really?”

  Olivia knew something was up when Harry walked in the door from work. He didn’t say a thing. He lifted the bag of Swiss Chalet takeout in his hand and a smile stretching his cheeks threatened to engulf his face. It wasn’t until he set the bags on the table did he spill the news.

  “Yup.”

  “Did we get what we asked for?”

  “Double yup.”

  “That’s wonderful!” She hugged Harry and for a reason she couldn’t explain, crying overtook her, reducing her to putty. Her small frame shook in Harry’s arms.

  He began to recite the expected platitudes, words she hated to hear because they were expected. “Hey now. It’s okay. It�
�s gonna get better. We just need time.”

  She didn’t hate the words today. Even though all the terrible things she had been through put lie to those words. How can anything get better? Jen’s dead, the Jackal’s still out there, maybe watching her, waiting for the right time. Despite all that, at that moment in her father’s arms she dared to believe them.

  -25-

  Moving day arrived with surprising speed. She remembered packing boxes, labelling them and setting them aside and then her dad was pulling on her shoulder, telling her to get up and get started, his sleep tousled hair standing straight up on his head. Harry rented a U-Haul truck for the move and they estimated two trips to get it done. All in all, it took three. Frank showed up to help and so did Dale. To Olivia’s surprise Dale’s parents also pitched in to help. Dale’s mom, Angela, teared up at the sight of Olivia and pulled her into a hug. Olivia swallowed a lump and didn’t yield to the temptation to cry. She had done enough crying. Angela smelled of peanut butter cookies and it brought back pleasant memories. Dale’s dad, Carl, patted her on the arm and seemed to want to shake her hand but dropped it and awkwardly hugged her and with a quick one-two pat on her back, let her go. Dale’s parents looked the same, only older. They were both fit from time at the gym and Angela boasted a winter tan no doubt earned from frequent visits to a tanning bed.