by John Hunt
He thought they had vanished. Surveillance cost a lot to maintain indefinitely if that’s what they thought they had to do after Jen. It might be cheaper to put them in witness protection. He couldn’t see Lucy agreeing to that. Too independent and proud. He wondered what Olivia would do. Did they even offer it to them? He should have considered the possibility of undercover surveillance. To be fair to himself, he did consider it but believed it to be abandoned by now. It had been a few months since the murder of Jen. When would they pull it?
Even though he had become more famous than Bernardo, he never sought fame. Anonymity secured longevity and he had enjoyed the years when no one even suspected people like he and Grady existed. Now the secret was out and the Jackal was synonymous with the Bogeyman. A feeling of pride bloomed in his chest. He liked being recognized for his work, but not enough to get caught. Hell no.
The fact is the police presence scared him and he didn’t like being scared. He was the scary one, the Jackal, the cannibal prince. His fear turned to anger and he bared his teeth like an animal backed into a corner. Did they know who they were messing with? He had already make them look the fools with Jen and her mother. He would do it again. He would just have to exercise patience. He could wait for the surveillance to be terminated. Then he would swoop in, steal them from right under their noses. He would watch the news about it as he carved into Jen and soiled Olivia. He could do it without anyone finding out who he is. He had been working hard on his plan. Ironing out every wrinkle and thinking through every contingency. He had found everything he needed on the internet. Amazing what one could find out there.
He bought a pre-paid credit card with cash and had the items sent to a P.O box registered under a different name. He created layers of obscurity with ease. But his plan had hinged on the police being out of it. He would have to hold off a little longer, maybe near the end of summer and hopefully by then, the police would have relaxed and let their guard down. It would make it easy for him to don his mask and create a night of terror for the girls and delicious memories for himself. He would have liked to keep them someplace safe for some time before he killed them. He would like to toy with them like he had before. He wanted to snuff out the hope in their eyes over days, weeks and years. He didn’t have a room or a place to keep them anymore. No Shawn Grady to act as a straw man. What he was going to do was risky enough. To keep them, like he did before would be inviting disaster. One night would do it. He could destroy them both and hide their bodies and the police would be so busy looking for them, they would spend less time looking for him. So he hoped. Either way, he would get Olivia out of his system and show Lucy there was no escape from him. Only a short reprieve.
Remembering Jen’s terror calmed his quavering heart. The adrenaline drained from his system. His hands shook on the steering wheel. He steadied his breathing. He would have Olivia and Lucy. Planning, preparation and patience would ensure it. It will all be worth it when he could play with Lucy and Olivia minus his mask. Especially Olivia. He pressed play on his iPod and relaxed to Ava Maria, the song he and Olivia shared. He turned it up and drove away from Olivia’s. He would see her soon enough.
-31-
Harry could not believe the change in Olivia. He had gotten used to the Olivia who clawed her way out of a basement. A wild-eyed person frightened of any errant noise or passing shadow. A young woman who cowered in her own home believing the horror would visit her again, expecting it to descend upon her any second, caressing the knife on a belt while her eyes forever roved, never resting, never feeling safe. She skirted the house with shoulders hunched and bent as though anticipating a beating at any moment. It hurt him to see her so damaged. He had feared she may never recover. The bright, confident and considerate young woman who left for university never returned. They had taken that from her and he wasn’t sure she would ever get it back. She had proven to be a fighter but Harry had known that before all this mess. She had always been strong and very stubborn. She didn’t have quitting in her and even though she struggled adjusting to her new life, she made plans and thought of the future. She got him to stop drinking, she got them into a nice place closer to his work, near a police station and she got herself a dog. Incredibly resilient, his daughter.
He would have to credit Brutus for the change in her demeanour. They were perfect for each other. Each complementing the others insecurities and imbibing confidence as a result. He never strayed far from her side, watching her with his amber eyes and licking her hand at every opportunity. The only time he went from her side was to do his business in the backyard. He would sniff along the fence looking for a place to go while pausing to look back at her, as though to make sure she hadn’t left him. Harry wondered about Brutus. Did he understand his first family abandoned him? Is that why he appeared so concerned as to Olivia’s whereabouts? In contemplation of Brutus’s calm and conscientious demeanour, Harry’s fear of the dog receded. He was getting used to the dog and against his instincts was starting to like him. It was hard for him though. He had been afraid for so long, he didn’t know how not to be. He had to learn, for Olivia’s sake. The first night, driving home in the car with Brutus he was so scared and nervous his shirt clung to his sweat soaked frame. He kept expecting those jaws to clamp around his exposed neck while he drove. It was stupid, he knew it, but the image was so strong he thought for sure it would happen. He couldn’t wait to get out of the car. They stopped for supplies and Harry volunteered to go in and get them. Out of sight of Olivia, he stood inside the door, breathing in through his mouth and out through his nose. A technique he read about to reduce anxiety and return the heart rate to normal. It had been useful to him ever since he quit drinking.
He would get used to Brutus. Olivia smiled more and the tension that used to draw her shoulders up around her head grew less pronounced. As dogs went, Brutus was remarkable. Brutus possessed an almost human awareness of his discomfort and respected it. Harry anticipated that one day Olivia would have the courage to leave the house without him. As long as she took Brutus with her of course. He hoped she would someday continue with getting her education. She could take online courses and complete university that way. Get a degree while never leaving the house if she wanted to. She could get on with her life and maybe heal from the cruel interruption. She wished they caught that bastard Jackal. Maybe Olivia wouldn’t be as scared of the night or strange noises if she knew he was in jail. Detective Davis believed he would make another appearance. Especially after carving Jen so she would resemble Olivia. What was the connection to Olivia? Why was she so special to this sick bastard? He wish he had some idea, even an inkling of why. With his shadow an overhanging presence, would Olivia ever have a normal life? What if he came for her? Would Harry be able to protect her or would he end up another victim, like Jen and her mother? It isn’t fair for Olivia to have to live this way. It wasn’t fair for her to have been taken. He sighed. Life was indifferent to fairness. It had taken a long time for Harry to learn that. All a person can do is try to be prepared. But how do you prepare for an avalanche or a meteor strike? That’s what Olivia’s abduction had been like. Violent and unknowable.
He sighed, watching Olivia sit out back, Brutus lying by her side, her hand absently scratching him on the top of his head. She had the alarm around her neck, the house alarm with the video cameras, her knife and now Brutus the guard dog. She should be safe.
. . .
Summer arrived in July. According to the calendar, the first day of summer was supposed to be June 21st. The weather decided not to acknowledge the calendar and remained rebelliously cool until halfway through July. Then in typical Canadian fashion, it got so hot people complained about it forgetting a short time ago they were whining about the cold and bitter winter. Olivia never complained about the summer heat. For her, the hotter the better and she refused to turn on the air conditioner even if just breathing caused her to sweat. Harry wo
uld invariably arrive home, moan about the heat in the house and the hum of the AC would begin before he completed his complaint. To Olivia, summer lasted for only a blink before the cold air swooped down from the the north to remind everyone that, yes, they lived in Canada. Olivia decided to take advantage of the weather and spent most of her time outside, soaking in the sun, reading a book while music emanated from the windows of the house. The first summer in five years she could spend outside. She wouldn’t waste it.
Frank and Carl finished the renovations. It took longer than both of them expected. Wood rot pervaded the house. They had to replace her closet and to her delight, it was considerably bigger than before. Olivia invited them both over to dinner for a thank you. Carl accepted. Frank declined citing the workload that had built up while he worked for them for free. He never tired of reminding her or Harry that he was renovating their house for free.
They were done and she felt relief to no longer have them around. She enjoyed being alone and thought she might be turning into a hermit. Do hermits live with their dads?
Her routine consisted of getting up with Harry, eating breakfast with him after feeding Brutus and quietly enjoying the rising sun brighten the windows. After he left she would set the alarm to monitor doors and windows, check the same windows manually and review the video from the previous night. Then she would catch up on the news hoping to hear the Jackal was either dead or caught, preferably dead, torn apart by a pack of ravenous dogs just for the irony of it. And the intense pain he would experience before he died. She checked every day although she knew Davis would let her know before the news people did. Once the news failed to relate the horrible death of the Jackal, she would take her tea, iPad and a book into the backyard with her. Brutus, tongue lolling, walked beside her. Some days after her tea she would mow the yard and pluck vile dandelions. After she picked up the dog crap of course. She had mowed over his droppings before and to see it spray out the exhaust in a brown haze and the accompanying smell had her tasting bile. She preferred never to do that again. Other days, she would zone out in her book until she would need a break and then toss the ball to Brutus. She kept the knife at her hip, attached to the belt on her shorts and continued to pat it in times of nervous contemplation.
She thought of Lucy often. She had Lucy’s phone number. Davis had given it to her a long time ago on his business card. The card sat ignored on the stand beside her bed. What did Lucy think of what happened to Jen? Did she hunker down out of sight after she heard about it? She didn’t seem the type to lie low. The hazy, lazy days removed any urgency to call Lucy and she kept putting it off. The summer lounging was too nice to lousy up with a stressful conversation on the Jackal. She wanted to move ahead and leave all the memories behind. That would be easier to do if the Jackal wasn’t still out there. Besides, Lucy didn’t feel the need to call Olivia.
Olivia sighed under the heat. The sun pressing down on her skin with a heavy hand induced a delightful indolence. Brutus suffered the heat to be near her and she felt bad about. His tongue grew long out of his mouth and his panting took on a hectic cadence. She had Harry bring home one of those little turtle pools and she placed it at the end of the deck and filled it with water. Brutus showed how grateful he was by hopping into it and lying down. He would submerge his face in it and she would see his pink tongue darting out to lap up the water. Once satisfied, he hopped out, made sure to pad near her before shaking the water off as though wanting to share the refreshing glory of the pool. Brutus alternated between prowling the yard, dunking himself in the pool and napping beside her. She loved the mutt and could see her dad warming up to him. Taking incrementally tiny steps forward, one day, he may even summon the courage to pet Brutus.
The sun’s arc crept into the other half of the sky. Olivia, realizing the afternoon had arrived and she hadn’t eaten lunch, summoned the energy to go inside for something to eat. She sighed. The end of summer was fast approaching. September loomed before her. The days had passed in a blur and there was still no end in sight to the investigation and the identity of the Jackal. How long would she have to hide from the outside world? Would she be more eager to go out and join it if the Jackal were caught or dead? Hard to answer. She liked to think so but she would always have a fear, irrational or not, of being snatched off the street and disappearing. It happened so quick the first time. Rude eye opener to realize how helpless a person could be to surprise and superior strength. She patted the knife at her waist. Brutus’ claws clacked on the floor behind her. She opened the fridge, turning her thoughts towards something more productive: like lunch.
She sang along with the iPod, content in the moment. She patted Brutus on the head and removed cheese from the fridge. Crackers and cheese plus lemonade. Delish! For the moment, she felt safe.
-32-
The Jackal packed a white panelled van with the gear he would need. He stole it from a work site and being a Saturday, he figured no one would notice or report it missing until Monday morning. And only if they happened to need that particular van so he had a good window with the van being safe to use. He liked the camouflage the white work van afforded. It aroused no suspicion. They were as common on the road as seagulls are at a beach. Not even the cops would pay him much attention. He couldn’t believe the police still sat there, day after day. It must be costing them a fortune. He thought of himself as a patient and meticulous man and as such, going after them without the police watching was a bad idea. Going after them with the police watching was damn near suicidal. He should leave both of the girls alone and move on. Or at least wait until the police did go away. He had always believed himself capable of controlling himself enough to be able to move on without a backwards glance. He should be able to play this smart and just quit. He had had his fun. Years of it. No good thing ever lasts. He couldn’t let go. The very idea that he could was a lie. It made him wonder who was in control. Him or Olivia?
He had read of other convicted serial killers and the repeating theme of them being caught was they were the victims of their own laziness, complacency and arrogance. A dangerous mixture. The Jackal didn’t believe his affliction could be called laziness. No, the danger to him lived and breathed and called to him from her room. Olivia was the danger. He couldn’t stop thinking of her. He couldn’t stop wanting her. Is this what drug addicts go through? Attracted to and needing something clearly harmful to them? He even scoffed at them, upon a time but no longer. He was decided. Tonight was the night his torment would end. He would have both of his prizes, spirit them away as the police supposedly watched from their cars.
He went inside his house, the one his family didn’t know about, and ate a steak dinner. The steak was good but it didn’t compare to the flesh of his ladies. Terror added a distinct flavour to flesh. He would have a taste of it again soon enough. After, he washed the dishes by hand, dried them and put them away.
He ambled to the back porch with a glass of lemonade. Ava Maria, on repeat, played in the background. It was their song, his and Olivia’s. He sank into an outdoor recliner. The sun drifted towards the earth. This is what Olivia liked to do. Sitting in the backyard with the sun as a warm companion. He liked it too because it helped him feel close to her. It’s what she had done all summer and he had to admit, it was peaceful.
Stars dotted the darkening sky. Finishing his lemonade, the Jackal stood and made ready to leave. Tonight he would be reunited with his lovelies. Joy tempered with trepidation, the Jackal anticipated an unforgettable night.
-33-
Harry sat in his Lazy Boy chair, the plaid pattern an eyesore to Olivia, and berated the Toronto Blue Jays on the TV. A once hot coffee sat forgotten beside him. He complained to her bitterly of the Blue Jays and their inconsistent performance. She feigned interest and needled him from time to time with phrases like, “Well if the owners cared…” or “That guy is always getting injured isn�
�t he?” setting Harry off on another tirade of why individuals should own teams and not corporations. According to Harry, corporations cared about money first and the World Series as an after thought. They were in the last couple of weeks of the season and the Blue Jays would not be playing any post-season games. They were too low in the standings. Olivia grinned as Harry espoused his opinion on the sorry state of Blue Jays baseball.
Baseball bored Olivia and the game could never hold her interest and she suspected it never would. Her dad loved it and so she suffered through it and tried to amuse herself any way she could. She would sit on the couch, her feet tucked under her with her latest book in her hand. Brutus dozed on the floor under her. She enjoyed these moments of normalcy.
The phone rang and deciding not to interrupt her dad’s time with his ever-disappointing Blue Jays, she answered the wall mounted one in the kitchen. It surprised her to notice the darkness outside. Since her escape, she’d been obsessively aware of the dark. Today she hadn’t paid it any attention. Another sign of healing? She hoped so.
“Hello?”
“Olivia?”
