Juliana smiled at a childhood recollection of being saved by her handsome knight.
"We expect our men to step up and stand up for us and fight for our honour, and if he doesn't, we despise them. It's no wonder you don't respect Des, if he is not–or is not allowed to–lead his family. Juliana, you must step back from the lead and let him take the reins, even if he makes a mess of it at first."
Juliana appeared to be struggling with Linda's comments, but deep in her heart, she knew she was right.
"Bailing out of a marriage does not please Father, either. If we do, we cannot expect the best that Father has planned for our lives and we often repeat the things that caused the marriage breakdown in the first place, while the next marriage may fail, also."
Linda paused for a while, to let Juliana reflect on her words and then continued, "Juliana, the disappearance of a child or loved one can be the most difficult thing a human being can go through. If we refuse to learn from these hard lessons and glean what is there to learn, then that loved one's life is somehow cheapened and we go on being a lonely, self-centred person with a chip and nothing to offer another human being going through the same thing."
Linda's words struck a chord in Juliana's heart. She paused again and then prayed for wisdom and peace for Juliana, but she knew there was a difficult choice before her.
Juliana could choose life and go down the difficult path.
Or she could choose to bail out, on to the easy path and live defeated and selfish. Destined to repeat her mistakes.
"Juliana, I am here for you, anytime you need me and if you will allow me to, I will walk with you in the rebuilding of your marriage and family. Father is in this, but it is your choice to start the journey. I know all too well what the journey ahead is going to be like for you. I have walked it for over twenty years now, but you won't be alone."
Juliana threw her arms around the wonderful woman of God and drew from her strength and wisdom. "Thank you, Linda."
Linda hugged Juliana, then stood to leave, just as Lisa appeared at the door to Gracie's room, surprised to see the difference in Juliana. There was a small light of hope flickering in her eyes.
"Would you like a cup of tea, dears?"
"That would be wonderful, Lisa," Linda replied.
"Yes, please, Lisa," Juliana surprised herself, as well as Lisa, at her reply.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 26
Leanne Bates walked briskly across the city street and into her doctor's waiting room. She checked in with the desk, confirmed her appointment and took the last remaining seat, to wait. The waiting room was packed. She knew from the fidgeting people around her, that Doctor Keller was running late... again!
Doctor Keller was in his late sixties and almost due for retirement. His gentle bedside manner and accuracy with patient diagnosis made him highly sought after, while a ready supply of treats ensured he won over distraught and nervous children requiring his attention, within seconds.
Although Leanne was in her late thirties, she saw Doctor Keller as a trusted father figure, putting her at ease just by his warm concern. He was the type of doctor who took whatever time he needed to pacify a patient's fear and explain exactly what was going on. Therefore, he was always running late.
By the time Leanne’s patient card had made the front of the queue, she had just picked up a second edition of Women's Weekly and was drawn into a juicy story of some hunk and his latest bimbo. Reluctantly, she put the magazine down when her name was called and followed the nurse into the doctor's office, while the door gently closed behind her.
"Hello, Leanne," Doctor Keller greeted.
"Doctor Keller," Leanne returned the greeting.
A worried expression came over the elderly gentleman's face. "Well, the blood work has come back and it looks like your white blood cell count is much higher than I would like."
Leanne's stomach tightened with concern.
"What does that mean?"
"High white blood cell count is indicative of your body fighting some type of infection or disease. It may be as simple as high stress, or something more sinister, like leukaemia. At the moment, it is too early to put a finger on anything specifically, but I would like to get some more tests done. How are your stress levels?"
Leanne shrugged. "No greater than normal, I guess."
"And your general well being?"
"I am feeling a little more tired lately," she confided.
"No unexplained weight loss or night sweats?"
"No, I don't think so…?"
"I want you to get some scans done before we go any further. I may need to do a biopsy of your bone marrow, but we will see what the scans tell us first."
Doctor Keller could see the worried look on Leanne's face and added, "It may be nothing, Leanne," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Like with anything in the human body, if we get it early enough, we have a better chance of defeating it."
This wasn't the news she was hoping for, but she had confidence in her doctor, reassured he would do whatever he could to help her out.
*~*~*~*
Leanne inserted her key into the front door to her duplex, unlocked the door and pushed it open. Lord Nelson, her cat, mewed in greeting.
"Hello, baby."
She reached down and scooped up her faithful mate and lost her nose in his thick, ginger fur. He reached around and playfully grabbed her hair and patted her face with his claws retracted. He’d scratched her face once and received such a scolding, that he never did it again. She carried the cat into her comfortable duplex, opened the fridge and filled his food bowl. Within minutes of filling his face, he was perched up on the lounge, licking his fur and settling in for a well deserved rest.
The sound of heavy metal music drifted through the wall of her duplex. She looked up at the clock. It was 6 pm.
"Edward Scissor Head!" she spat.
Reaching over her table, she opened her hand and pounded on the wall.
"TURN IT DOWN!"
Immediately, the volume went down and she could think again.
Edward Scissor Head was a twenty year old male, who lived next door. He had so many piercings, Leanne had endowed him with the nickname. When he’d refused to turn his music down, she had taken him on. From deep within her, an unknown stubborn streak had surfaced when he challenged her right to a quiet existence. She’d strode confidently over to his front door and let herself in, found the stereo control and twisted the volume knob toward zero. Then stood there, tapping her foot, with her arms folded, daring him to turn it up again. He’d cowered under her gaze and waited till she left, then cranked up the volume and locked his door. Leanne returned with a vengeance and banged on his door, but he responded by turning his music up even louder.
Spying the electricity control box attached to the side of his duplex, the expression on her face abruptly changed from intensely annoyed to jubilant victory. With a tilt of her head, mischievous eyes thinned into slits and a knowing smile, she’d unlatched the door to the electricity control panel and reached in, pulled the fuses and tossed them into the darkened garden, after which she had stalked, triumphant, back to her half of the duplex. The raging fire of contentment burnt deep within: mission accomplished.
Edward Scissor Head had spent the night in the dark and in silence, while Leanne had had a peaceful night.
Leanne’s history reflected in her current lonely circumstances. She had grown up with an abusive father and a drunken mother, whereas her five older siblings had related issues to contend with as well. Their time and energy was spent dodging their own demons and they didn’t have time to invest in an emotionally starving younger sister. Even after many attempts to bridge the gap with her family, she found herself alienated from relationships of every kind and totally alone. Even though loneliness was sometimes a bitter pill to swallow, she had no time for marriage and all the baggage that went with that, and now, alone, she was facing the prospect of cancer.
S
he perched, somewhat disinterested, in front of the TV with the lights off, staring at the scenes blinking across the screen, but lost in the heavy thoughts of the day. In a moment of desperation, she decided she needed a walk to clear her head and opened the front door to check the weather. It was a warm night and the moon was full; the perfect situation to clear the crushing thoughts of a looming tragedy. Leanne dressed quickly, found her sneakers and fastened them to her feet, then glanced up at the kitchen clock. It was 8 pm.
"I'll be back in an hour, Lord Nelson. Stay out of trouble till then," she warned the cat, then pulled the front door closed and locked it.
As she walked up the drive, she noticed a black sedan parked across the street. Not thinking anything of it, she continued up the road towards a large, open parkland and a bench she loved to sit at. The moonlight made the night feel quite eerie, but she wasn't afraid. There was a lot more on her mind than spooky shadows. She walked across the grassed area toward her favourite bench. A grove of trees gave the impression of a black wall behind the seat.
Leanne noticed the sedan slowly driving up the street and stopping opposite the park. Two figures in dark clothes alighted from the menacing vehicle and started to walk towards her. She stared in fear, riveted on the approaching outlines, while her heart hammered in her chest as they came closer.
Just then, a voice right next to her startled her and she screamed.
The two figures ran back to the sedan, hastily jumped in and the sedan roared away at speed.
"I was just trying to say, my dear, you shouldn't be out alone in the park at night with that psycho on the loose," an elderly man gently chided, scaring her half to death.
"Mr Henderson!" she said, relieved, holding her hand over her heart and slumping further down onto the park bench, trying to catch her breath.
"Yes, dear, I was just taking old Jessup here for his walk. He don't like the heat of the day."
"Did you see those two men and the car?" she pleaded.
"No, dear, but my eyes aren't what they used to be. Were they friends of yours?"
"I think they were going to do me a mischief," she remarked, concerned.
"Do you think so?" Mr Henderson asked, glancing in the direction the car had gone. "I had better escort you home then, my dear. Jessup is old, but I am sure he would take a leg off anyone trying to do me a wrong."
Leanne ambled along in the company of the old man, grateful for his Herculean courage and timing. Her legs were still like jelly and she felt like she was going to collapse, but managed to hold it together long enough to make it home.
"Can I offer you a cup of tea?" she asked weakly, as the old man saw her to her door.
"That would be right neighbourly of you, dear," he replied. "I'll just tie old Jessup up here at the door."
Leanne put the kettle on and removed two cups from her cupboard, her hands still shaking from her ordeal.
"Not trying to be nosey, dear, but what were you doing down at the park at this time of night and sitting all alone at that bench?”
Leanne tussled with her thoughts and decided to take a chance. "My doctor told me today I may have cancer, Mr Henderson."
Mr Henderson’s features took on a faraway look and he whispered, "That's not good, dear. My Jeannie died of cancer just eight months ago. Just before our fiftieth wedding anniversary, too. I’m sorry you may have cancer, dear, but it's sometimes worse for the ones left behind. They suffer alongside their loved ones and watch helplessly as they slowly die right before their eyes. Worse thing is, not being able to help them and living with the memories."
Leanne’s whispered reply broke into his thoughts and refocused his gaze to where she stood. "I don't have anyone to worry about that," Leanne sounded just a little sadder than she intended.
"Don't you, dear? That is sad for a nice looking, young woman like yourself."
The compliment caught her off guard and she blushed. "I think you need to have your glasses checked, Mr Henderson."
"You know, that's the problem with today. Young women are fed so much nonsense. When a sincere observation comes along, they can't accept it."
"Thank you, I accept your observation," Leanne said, not believing him.
"I also think you should report that thing tonight to the police," he added.
Mr Henderson stayed with Leanne until she had made her report to the police. By the time she was off the phone, it was getting late and Jessup was whining at the door.
"Tis time this old timer was going home. You be alright?"
"Yes and thank you for listening. You don't know how it's helped me," Leanne confided.
"Wouldn't mind calling again, if you don't mind, just to keep an eye on you. I don't have anyone but old Jessup here and I figure you may need some help, too."
"I would appreciate the company, Mr Henderson."
Leanne watched the old man walk slowly up the driveway, with Jessup in tow. Maybe a nasty incident had just brought two people needing a friend, together.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 27
Sygh's Coffee Shop and Bistro was an upmarket cafe, located in central Perth. The screen-less windows opened outwards into the street, giving a full view inside to any passersby. Heavy, metal tables with umbrellas supported through the centre, spilled out onto the sidewalk, forcing pedestrians to pick their way through the dining patrons. The smell of fresh coffee wafted out onto the street and the fresh cream cakes and pastries always drew a crowd.
Dulcet took a seat outside and lifted his sleeve and studied his watch. He was early. A pretty waitress in black leotards, covered by an apron, approached him to take his order. He requested a coffee and explained he was waiting for a friend and that she should come back for his order, too. Dulcet wore his army uniform, making it easier for Ryan to recognise him. He lifted his sleeve again to check his watch and as he did, a police car pulled up on the other side of the street. A big man in a grey suit exited the car and wandered over to where Dulcet sat.
Dulcet stood and offered the man his hand, "Detective Ryan, I presume?"
Ryan nodded. "Private Dulcet?" The big man took a seat in a chair across from Dulcet, while the waitress returned to take his order.
"So what's your pitch Dulcet?" Ryan’s no-nonsense approach cut straight to the point of their meeting.
Dulcet spent the next hour outlining his thoughts. He explained the Magician's profile, his character traits and his operating philosophy, but Dulcet was losing his audience. Ryan looked unimpressed. He then threw out a wildcard to pique Ryan’s interest.
"With Samantha Young's case, she saw the Magician on a number of occasions. I believe Sam was to be his next victim."
"How do you work that out?" Ryan glared.
"There was definitely someone hiding in Sam's car behind her seat, most probably on the floor and out of her view. Something unusual startled him when he made his move and he took off like a frightened jack rabbit."
"You haven't told me anything but conjectures, Dulcet."
Ryan’s stares and abrupt speech were making Dulcet feel uneasy and he decided for a more direct approach.
"Sam's case fits the Magician, but something else was involved. If the something else hadn't happened, Samantha Young would be missing today, probably murdered."
Ryan's eyes narrowed. "So what's the tie up, between Samantha Young and Gracie Freeman?"
"The tie up is what’s different," Dulcet replied. "The media is calling Gracie's disappearance the work of the Magician. It is clearly not."
Dulcet was hoping to get some more information from Ryan with his next statement. "In Gracie's case, there appears to be more than one person involved. The Magician works alone. Samantha saw the Magician a number of times before her attack and there are no reports of sighting the Magician, in Gracie's."
"That we know of," Ryan added sarcastically.
"But that's just it. The Magician makes it plain to the victim that he has seen her and deliberately smiles at her. That's h
is way of clueing in his victim. Part of his game. Also," Dulcet added, "the actual attacks are completely secretive. When the Magician strikes, there are no clues and no evidence. The victim simply vanishes, without trace. That’s his main aim and he guards his claim to fame vehemently."
"What claim to fame?"
"His name tag: the Magician. He would know of the media's name associated with him and he would be revelling in it."
Dulcet added, "The first three women who disappeared clearly fit the Magician's profile, exactly. However, Gracie does not and Sam was a botched attempt."
Dulcet grappled with his next thought. He wasn't sure of his facts, but he put it out there anyway. "The profile of the victim the Magician goes after is female; late thirties/early forties; and alone."
Ryan stared into Dulcet's eyes, his gaze hard and calculating, while trying to see into Dulcet's mind.
Just then, Ryan's phone rang. He reached into his suit pocket and answered it. "Senior Detective Ryan... What?... When?"
Ryan got up from the table, pushing his steel chair out with his legs. "It's been nice, Dulcet, but I have to go."
"Anything wrong?" Dulcet enquired.
Ryan's eyes locked on Dulcet's and he hesitated, as if coming to a decision. "Your friend has been at it again, last night. I am on my way to talk to the victim."
Dulcet didn't say anything. He just stared up at Ryan.
"Come on!" Ryan relented.
*~*~*~*
Ryan's police car pulled up outside Leanne's duplex. The two men walked briskly down into Leanne's driveway and pounded on her door. Leanne had been watching the two strangers through her window.
"Now what? More police," she quipped.
She opened the door. "Yes?!"
"Miss Bates. Good evening. I am Senior Detective Ryan and this is Private Dulcet."
"I have already told the police everything, a few hours ago," Leanne sounded a bit ticked off.