A Dream of Death (14 page)

“Investigator Jonathan Tsang with subject officer Detective
Sergeant Lincoln Charles Munroe the Fourth, Western Region OPP homicide. Audio
and video recording is active. Do you understand, Detective?”

“Yes.”

Standard disclaimer, audio and video recorded. It was a
video I would be shown once this was all over.

“You have waived the right to have a representative from
your association or legal counsel present?”

“I have.”

“Are you prepared to begin?”

“Yes.”

“Take me through the events of June twentieth.”

“Where do you want me to begin?”

“Wherever you feel is relevant.”

It was the same as every interview I had conducted on
witnesses, the same questions. Except I was on the other side now. It would
start off easy.

I began with lunch, then Kara spotting the vehicle.

“Kara drove, we started following the car and I called in
the plate. Found out it was registered to someone other than Saunders.”

“Why didn’t you stop then?”

“Kara had seen the driver, said he looked a lot like
Saunders. I didn’t get a good look but the driver was definitely similar. I
guess it was a hunch, I knew it was him.”

“You just knew?”

“Yeah, I can’t explain it really. Instinct, I guess.”

Tsang nodded. “Continue?”

“I had them dispatch someone Code One to check on the
registered owner’s vehicle, see if the plates had been stolen or switched.”

“Code One for plates?”

He was questioning the order to send someone lights and
sirens.

“We needed to know and we needed to know right away. Sending
someone Code One to determine if the plates were stolen was reasonable given
the entirety of the situation we were facing. It outweighed the risk to public
safety.”

He said nothing so I carried on. “He knew it was us behind
him, just like I knew it was him. We hadn’t found out about the plates before
he tried to lose us. Kara took off after him and I called in the details of the
pursuit.”

“In an unmarked vehicle with no lights and sirens?”

“Him taking off confirmed it for us. Apprehending a serial
killer was more important than the province’s policies on pursuits. Exigent
circumstances.”

“Okay. And?”

“Kara kept driving, following him down side streets, the
traffic wasn’t too heavy and the roads and weather were clear. I don’t know how
long we followed him for, Kara would know, she would have had to go back and
determine the length of the pursuit.”

“Three kilometres. Go on.”

“Saunders hit a parked car and took off running. I tossed
the radio to Kara and told her to call it in then took off after him.”

“Do you know where you were?”

“Somewhere around Andover Drive. West of there, south of
Commissioners and north of Southdale.”

“And you didn’t take the radio with you?”

“It didn’t cross my mind, I wanted my hands free when I was
chasing him. I knew what he was capable of.” I lifted my shirt to show Tsang
the stitches in my side.

“Detective Sergeant Munroe lifts shirt showing injury
allegedly caused by suspect Saunders.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Wouldn’t the video have made that
clear enough?”

“Continue please, Detective.”

Apparently recognizing sarcasm was not a hiring requirement
for an SIU investigator.

“Saunders ran through a backyard on the right side of the
street. I was close behind him the whole way, I couldn’t gain any ground on him
but I wasn’t losing any either. We went over some fences through backyards and
came out on another street. We ran down it briefly before he took off back into
the backyards on the side of the road we had come from. I stayed behind him
until we came into a pie-shaped backyard. We were on a court or a crescent, I
knew that at the time. We went out and across the street, it was the corner of
a crescent and went into the backyards of more houses. I don’t know exactly
where we went, it happened so fast. I might be able to retrace it.”

“It may be necessary.”

“We were back into regular yards, rectangles with square
fences when he hopped the last fence and ran down the side of the garage. I got
over the fence but lost sight of him as he rounded the corner. I was just about
to round the corner when a garbage can came out at me and knocked me down. I
heard bone cracking and knew my ankle was gone.

“Saunders was running across the street and I knew I had to
stop him. He had killed five women, almost killed Kara and stabbed me. Nothing
was going to stop him from killing again. I could hear the sirens in the
distance and knew that officers were closing in but I couldn’t take the risk.
We had officers on scene fast after he tried to kill Kara and he got away. I
couldn’t let that happen again. I had the chance to shoot him then and I
didn’t. Now another woman is dead, and it’s because of me.

“I drew my pistol, took aim and fired until he fell. I never
took my gun off of him after that. I got my phone out and called it in. Kara
was first on scene and she covered off on him. She put her gun away quickly. I
knew then that he was dead.”

“How far away was he when you fired?”

“About twenty metres, sixty to seventy feet maybe.”

“A long shot. Did you think about your backdrop?”

The backdrop was what was behind the target—what I would
have hit—if I had missed or if a bullet had over penetrated.

“There was a house across the street. I was elevated being at
the peak of the driveway and the next house was at my level. Saunders was below
me, not much but enough that my rounds would have hit the driveway and lawn of
the next house.”

“And you thought about this at the time?”

“Of course I did. I weighed everything before taking the
shot. It was a split second decision, Tsang, but a well thought out one.”

“How many times did you fire?”

“As many as were required to subdue the target. I didn’t
count.”

“Can you estimate?”

I was starting to get annoyed now. I had told him what had
happened. The number of rounds was obvious, count the holes in Saunders back
and the one in his skull, count the missing rounds from my magazine. I knew I’d
hit him six times, but I had I fired more? Had I missed? I closed my eyes and
reviewed the incident, watching Saunders run away from me in slow motion as I
pulled the trigger. If my memory was correct I counted six shots, but could I
trust myself? I imagined it again, hearing the gunshots echoing on the houses
as Saunders fell to the ground.

This time I was not alone. A man stood over me, silhouetted
in the afternoon sun, his hand reaching for my forehead.

My eyes sprang open and startled Tsang, causing him to lean
back in his chair. But what nearly made me fall out of my chair was the phrase
“Why?” written in blood on Tsang’s forehead and a hunting knife dangling above
his head.

I brought the heels of my palms to my eyes and tried to rub
the hallucinations away. I opened my eyes and they were still there. No longer
could I make eye contact, the sign of a truthful person. Not while Tsang bore
the message, not while a bloody knife hung above his head, Damocles in a
business suit sitting before me.

“Detective?”

My head hung in my hands. “I don’t know, six. Count the
bullets, I didn’t miss.”

“Are you sure? How do you know you didn’t?”

My pulse was rising. Sweat beaded on my forehead and dripped
past my hands onto my lap. My father’s image stood in front of me when I lifted
my head, his hand reaching out.

“Because I didn’t miss, I couldn’t miss. He was going to
kill him.”

Tsang stopped. He looked at me, at my eyes filled with fear
and confusion as they gazed upon the wall where my father stood and shook his
head.

“I’m confused, Detective. Who was he going to kill?”

“What?”

“You said he was going to kill
him
. All the victims
were women. Who was he going to kill?”

“I don’t know.” I didn’t even remember saying it, the reason
for saying it was even farther gone. I lowered my head again and began to cry,
lost in myself and unaware of my surroundings. A hand reached out and rested on
my shoulder. I placed my hand on top of it and cried even harder, “I’m sorry,
I’m so sorry. I didn’t have a choice.”

“Detective,” Tsang said as he pulled his hand away, “I think
I have everything I need right now. I’m going to be recommending psychological
counseling for post-traumatic stress.”

I didn’t hear him; I heard nothing but the wind swirling
through the trees, the rush of water in the distance and the calls of birds
singing to the rising sun. “I had to stop him, I... I had the knife. I had to
stop him.”

Tsang turned the video camera off and left the room. He came
back a few minutes later with Kara but I was still lost, revisiting horrors
that could only be old memories.

* * *

I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and an
unquenchable thirst. It took me a minute to recognize my surroundings; I was in
Kara’s bedroom, in her bed, in just my boxers and a t-shirt.

Kara must have heard me sit up and she came into the room
with a book in her hand.

“Never thought you’d wake up,” she said.

I tried to speak but my throat was too dry, only a few raspy
words escaped. Kara brought me a bottle of water and watched as I drank the
majority of it without a breath.

“Did we... did we...”

“I slept on the couch. What do you remember?”

“Breaking down in the SIU interview. That was it.”

“Yeah, I brought you back here. I was thinking about taking
you to the hospital, you were right out of it. You kept rambling to yourself, I
couldn’t understand what you were saying.”

“What about the interview?”

“Tsang said he had what he needed. I told him you’d been on
morphine and were in a lot of pain. I think they figure that was the cause of
you losing it.”

I brought my hand up and clutched my head.

“Sorry Link, I know you didn’t want them but I got your
prescription filled and gave you a Perc last night. Figured you needed it. Need
another?”

“No. Just some Tylenol. Flush the pills.”

“Okay, sorry. I was just trying to help.”

“I know,” I said, but that didn’t lessen my anger.

“What you said in the interview, do you remember it?”

I thought back, trying to force myself to remember but the
last thing in my mind was telling Tsang how many shots I had fired.

“Nothing past how many shots.”

“Tsang said you had a break down and got confused, said you started
talking about things that didn’t make sense. He wouldn’t tell me much more,
confidentiality and all that bullshit.”

It began to resurface. I remembered seeing my father, seeing
the knife above Tsang’s head, the message in blood on his forehead. “He
wouldn’t tell you anything I said?”

“No.” She looked worried, “I think he knows about us, I
couldn’t hide my concern for you. The way he looked at me, he had to know.”

“It’s fine, Kara.” She was sitting on the edge of the bed
now, her hand on my leg. I took her hand in mine, “if it wasn’t for that he
probably wouldn’t have told you anything.”

“You’re right.” She took a deep breath. “They’ve put you on
administrative leave. Tsang told them you need psychiatric counseling.”

“I need more than just that.”

Kara looked surprised. “Is everything okay?”

“No. Let me get dressed and eat something, and I’ll tell you
everything I know.”

She left the room puzzled, unsure of what I was talking
about.

She and I had the same realization at the same time. My
clothes and crutches were across the room. Kara was back in the room before I
could call for her.

“You need some help?”

A feeling of helplessness overwhelmed me, I couldn’t even
dress myself now. “Thanks,” I said as she handed me the pair of shorts Kat had
brought to the hospital. I wanted to do it myself, to regain the independence I
had lost, but Kara slid my shorts over my cast and my good leg and then let me
pull them up. Bending probably wasn’t the best idea with new stitches. She
handed me my crutches and helped me out of the bed. Getting down the stairs
took some effort, but Kara went down backwards in front of me, ready to help if
it was required.

I took a seat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen and Kara
asked me what I wanted, ready to prepare a breakfast of champions should I have
requested it.

“Just some cereal,” I said.

“Multigrain Cheerios or Oatmeal Crisp?”

I wanted to ask if she had any Lucky Charms or Cap’n Crunch
but I already knew the answer. Health conscious and without kids kept her away
from the sugary cereals I was used to.

“Oatmeal Crisp I guess.”

“Orange juice or milk?”

“Scotch?”

She laughed. “It’s twelve o’clock somewhere, I guess.”

“Pour yourself one too, you’ll probably need it.” I hated to
worry her like that, but I was right, a tale such as mine needed an analgesic
to wash it down.

Kara took my advice, popping the top off of a bottle of
beer. I ate my cereal before the ice had even started to dilute my drink. I
didn’t have the heart to tell her I preferred my scotch neat. With an empty
cereal bowl staring back at me, I started talking.

“I started having dreams a couple of weeks ago, while the
case was in full swing. I dreamed I was in the forest somewhere, flying over
the rivers and trees toward a glimmering light. The light was flashing a
message in Morse code, ‘truth’ I later figured out. When I went down to the
light I crashed into the trees and found myself outside of my body watching my
broken form on the ground.

“It took me a while to come to, and when I did I snapped
back into my body. I fought the pain and found the source of the light: a
hunting knife dangling from an invisible string over a human skull peering out
from the dirt.”