Eternal Lessons, Chapter 2

Chapter Two



Cami was able to set up an appointment for Grace to speak with the first victim, Susan Harris, for one o’clock the following afternoon. The woman had been resistant at first. Understandably she was reluctant to dredge up the awful episode all over again. She insisted to Grace that she had told the police “absolutely everything” she knew. Grace had replied that although she was sure the process was tedious and painful; it might prove helpful- even if in some small way. Finally, she relented. Grace was sure that it was probably just to shut her up… but whatever worked, right?

Grace arrived for the appointment a little early that next day. Susan Harris had come to stay with her parents following her release from the hospital. According to Grace’s source in the department, the woman was suffering from a variety of physical and emotional problems stemming from the attack. The physical stuff would heal with time and care- the emotional side was a little trickier. She had heard the phrase ‘post-traumatic stress’ with regret and not a little frustration.  It would make her extremely hard to approach and retrieve information from, because the person suffering from it tended to relive the event that caused the trauma without fully remembering it. Post-traumatic stress was treatable, but the patient had to be willing. The problem was a lot of those who needed the help resisted it the most.  Grace hoped she wouldn’t cause the woman any more pain than she’d already been through.

Reaching into the car Grace retrieved her bag that held a small voice-activated recorder and her notebook.  Grace liked to make notes while she interviewed someone. Not what they said, but impressions she got while they were talking. It could be anything from their surroundings to mannerisms or expressions they used. A lot of times her notes were more informative than whatever the witness or client had told her. She had a feeling that would probably be the case with Susan Harris.

  Grace walked up the stone path to the front of the house. Susan’s parent’s home was situated in a very quiet upscale neighborhood. The home was what Grace’s mother would have called ‘Yuppie Greek Revival’. Essentially, that meant a home in an upscale suburban neighborhood that looked like a slightly smaller version of one of those ritzy country estates.  Grace smiled as she thought about her Mother’s disdain for homes like these. Scarlett McKenna lived in the home she had been raised in- as well as her mother, grandmother and great-grandmother. It was a beautiful home, rich in history. A few years ago it had even been registered as an historic landmark. What it was, in Grace’s opinion, was a federally protected money pit- but her mother loved the place nonetheless.

Shaking thoughts of the old homestead out of her head, Grace rang the doorbell and waited. A full minute went by before the door was answered by a stern looking man in his late fifties. His full head of grey hair was expertly cut as was the suit he wore. He had a thin cigar in one hand, while his other held onto the partially opened front door.

  “You’re Grace McKenna?” he asked, though there seemed to be little question in his tone.

“Yes. You’re Mr. Harris, I presume. Susan’s father?”

At his curt nod, Grace made a tentative step forward and said, “I have an appointment with your daughter. We spoke yesterday.”

“I’m aware of that. I told her it was a bad idea.” He replied, not exactly slamming the door in her face, but not giving any ground either.

“I understand your apprehension, but I’m not here to cause your daughter any more pain than I have to.”  Grace said, resisting the impulse to sugarcoat things. Might as well be honest and admit she wasn’t there for fun and games.

Mr. Harris’ eyes narrowed as he regarded Grace for several moments. Grace thought she saw a slight relaxation in his posture at her honesty, but he remained firm in his position as guardian of his daughter’s safety. Grace recognized his attitude for what is was; he couldn’t change the harm that had befallen his daughter, but he could damn sure prevent any further damage.

“Mr. Harris, I don’t want to cause your daughter any harm. I’m here to do whatever I can to help catch the monster that did this to her, as well as the other two women. I realize it’s far from pleasant for her to have to go over what happened again, but she’s the only hope I have.”

“The police talked to her I don’t know how many times. It didn’t do any good. She doesn’t remember anything about what was done to her or by whom. Besides- I thought the police were handling the investigation. What’s a private investigator doing involved?” He asked, his eyes narrowing and regarding Grace with renewed intensity.

“The police are handling it, but… I knew the latest victim. She was a sweet girl who was turning her life around when she was brutally murdered.  This isn’t just another case to me Mr. Harris. I have a personal interest in catching this bastard. Besides, maybe she’ll remember something this time, and wouldn’t helping to catch this creep help her more than anything? I know I’d feel better if I was her.”

Grace stepped back after she finished speaking. Her body language letting Mr. Harris know that she was leaving it up to him. She watched as he stood there, weighing the validity of her argument against his desire to slam the door and shut his daughter away from anything and everything that could possibly hurt her- including her memories. Finally with a shrug and a heavy sigh, he stepped back.

  “Come on in. At this point I guess almost anything’s worth a try.”

Grace exhaled in relief as Susan’s father turned away to lead her inside. She didn’t know what she would have done if he’d turned her away, but she was glad she didn’t have to figure it out. Mr. Harris led her through the foyer and down the hall to a bright sunny room near the back of the house. There was an abundance of windows in the room to let in the bright sunshine, but all the shades had been drawn. The room remained well lit though, since every available light in the room appeared to be on. In the center of the room was a large, overstuffed floral print sofa. Settled into a corner of the sofa, surrounded by throw pillows and covered by a chenille throw was Susan Harris. On the low table in front of her sat a tray of food. Grace noticed it was untouched.

“Susan, honey… Miss McKenna’s here to see you.” Mr. Harris announced in a gentle voice.

Grace stopped just inside the doorway, not wanting to invade Susan’s sanctuary without warning. She watched as Susan turned slightly to glance over her shoulder.  She nodded slightly, and in a timid voice replied, “Come in and sit down, Miss McKenna.”

Grace hesitated for a second, trying to decide exactly where to position herself in the room, then decided on the armchair at the opposite end of the sofa from where Susan was sitting. It was far enough away to not infringe on her personal space, but close enough so that they could carry on a private conversation. Once Grace was seated she got her first look at the ravages of the attack Susan Harris had endured. She was just thankful that experience had taught her to school her features into neutrality and that the intervening weeks since the attack had muted the damage somewhat. Still… it was impossible not to notice the external scars, the bruising and cuts that ran from her temple to her throat. The haunted look in her eyes was made more obvious by the shadows beneath them and the tension in her frame. To Grace, it felt as though the girl was bracing for a blow- and maybe she was. An emotional one at the very least.  Trying not to focus on her injuries but rather the whole girl, Grace looked away for a second as she retrieved her recorder and notebook from her bag and set the items on the table. Gesturing to them, she asked, “You don’t mind, do you?”

Giving her answer with a quick shake of her head, she took a deep breath and asked, “Did you want something to drink?”

“No, I’m fine.” Grace replied with a smile.

Susan glanced over her shoulder and surprised Grace when she said, “Miss McKenna and I will be fine Daddy.”

Until that moment Grace had been unaware that Mr. Harris was hovering in the doorway. Inwardly, Grace admonished herself to be a little more observant of her surroundings. She watched as Susan’s father reluctantly took his leave, with a last backward glance he said “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Susan turned back to Grace with a sad and somewhat rueful half-smile. “He’s very sweet, but I think he’s afraid to let me out of his sight. I’m sorry if he made you feel unwelcome, Miss McKenna.”

“Please call me Grace, and there’s no need to apologize-his attitude was perfectly understandable.”

“Ok… well, where would you like to start?” Susan asked.  Grace noted that while her tone was pleasantly conversational, her body language was becoming increasingly defensive. She drew her legs up closer to herself, and wrapped her arms around them in an almost fetal pose. After thinking about it for a second, Grace began with something very innocent.

“Tell me about an average day at work.”

Susan looked somewhat surprised, but after a moment she began somewhat hesitantly. “I’ve been working at the bank for about two years. I recently started training for a financial manager’s position, so I’ve been working in a lot of different areas in the bank.”

“I thought… well, the papers listed your occupation as a bank teller.” Grace noted with a slightly confused frown.

“Yes, I heard that, along with other things that weren’t completely accurate, but none of them were important enough to try to correct.” Susan replied with a small sigh. Grace understood. There were always going to be inaccuracies in the media because  there was always a rush to get the story in before someone else. It got down to picking what you cared about when it came to trying to correct things.

“Okay. So I imagine you’ve been pretty busy at work lately.” Grace added, urging her to continue.

“Very. I guess that’s why I almost didn’t make the standing lunch date I have with my friends that day.” Susan stated in a soft and thoughtful voice.

“I see.”

“It’s strange really. I’ve thought it over a hundred times since I came home. If I hadn’t gone out and just eaten lunch at my desk… would it have still happened?”

Grace looked into the young girl’s eyes, watching as the tears gathered in her haunted hazel eyes and as she struggled to try to find a reason why she had been targeted in such a vicious way. What had she done or not done to catch the attention of such a monster? It was the awful game of ‘what if’ that everyone indulges in when something horrendous enters his or her life.  It was agonizing and fruitless speculation, but it was something that victims always ended up indulging in.

“I wish I could give you an answer that would help you to understand, but I can’t. The truth is no one knows why these things happen- they just do. The only thing I do know is that agonizing over what could have been does nothing to help and can only harm you in the end.”

“That’s kind of scary isn’t it? How powerless we are to stop things from happening.” Susan remarked in a depressing tone.

“Yes, but then I’ve found that most power is an illusion. The only real power we have is in the choices we make.” Grace replied, trying as much as she could to give comfort and strength to the sad and scared woman before her.

For a long moment Susan didn’t say anything more. It seemed as though she was trying to work something out in her head, but couldn’t quite get the answer she needed. Finally she spoke again, and when she did Grace felt even more sympathy for the girl then she had before.

“I can’t make myself eat.” She confided in a voice barely above a whisper.

Grace couldn’t seem to find a way to respond to that, but she edged forward to try to find some gesture of comfort. She couldn’t seem to come up with anything approaching adequate so she merely listened.

“Every time I try to eat something it smells and tastes rotten. I can see the words he carved into me… hear them in my head. I think I’m going crazy Grace. Do you think I’m going crazy?”

Given what Grace knew had happened to her, combined with what the girl had just told her, she thought that if anyone had a right to go a little crazy, she certainly did. However, something told her that that wasn’t exactly a helpful observation to share.

“No, I don’t”, Grace said, moving a little closer to Susan and placing a hand on hers. “I think you’ve been through an awful experience and you need to give your body and your mind time to heal. I think every part of your life that you take back is a step in that healing process. I wouldn’t be here trying to help you remember things otherwise. What we do here today might be the first step towards catching this animal.”

Grace watched for what seemed like an eternity while Susan struggled with her doubts and fears and God only knew what else that bastard had put in her head. It was like watching someone mentally struggle with demons- which Grace figured was fairly close to accurate. Finally, something changed in Susan’s demeanor and when she spoke next it seemed like there was renewed strength in her eyes.

“Okay. Let’s talk about what happened that day.”



Grace and Susan talked for the next hour. At first Grace asked questions, and then Susan just rambled for a while, skipping from one part of the day to the other. It was the sort of free-associative undirected interview that Grace usually liked to avoid, but this time it seemed to be working. She remembered little tidbits that she hadn’t before; things like her friend Traci arriving about ten minutes late, and the others deciding to wait outside of the restaurant for her. She remembered she had left her wallet in the top drawer of her desk, but hadn’t really worried about it because it wasn’t her turn to pay for lunch. She remembered a homeless man approaching them, asking for spare change while they waited outside the restaurant. Her friend Ann had given the man a couple of dollars, but she didn’t have anything on her.

“I told him that I was sorry, I didn’t have any money on me. Then Traci showed up and we all went inside.”

“Was the man there when you came out?” Grace asked, her interest piqued.

“No- but it’s pretty rare to see anyone like that around there. I figured the police or somebody had run him off. To tell you the truth, I don’t think I gave him much thought after we went inside.”

Grace sighed at another lead gone to dust. If only the guy had still been there, he might have seen or heard something. It was thin, but it could have led to something. Anything.

“Ok, so the three of you went inside, had lunch, talked, then what?” Grace asked, undaunted.

“Then we settled up the bill, talked about maybe getting together over the weekend, and then went our separate ways.”

“What about after? You walked to your car…” Grace trailed off, hoping Susan would pick up the thread and keep going. This was always where her memories had gone dry before and Grace was praying for a miracle this time.  She watched Susan as she struggled to remember. It was agonizing to watch and as Grace saw the tears pool in Susan’s eyes with the effort, she felt as low as a snake for putting her through it. Finally Susan’s renewed well of inner strength ran dry as she buried her head in her hands and wept.

Grace held the girl while she wept and told her that she had been brave and that she had helped. She told her every new thing she remembered was another part of her life back and to try and not worry. She vowed to do everything she could to make sure her attacker was caught and punished. In the end, to Grace’s ears at least, it sounded like a bunch of useless platitudes and bullshit.

Grace stayed with Susan until she had calmed somewhat, and after extracting a promise from her to call if she needed anything, she left. She felt awful as she showed herself out of Susan’s parent’s house and was grateful that she didn’t have to face looking the girl’s father in the eyes on her way out.

By the time she made it to her car Grace had made a very reluctant decision. Reaching in her bag and grabbing out her cell, she called her office number. Upon hearing Cami’s voice on the line announcing “McKenna Investigations, how may I help you?” Grace took a deep breath, and in a more surly tone than she intended said, “It’s me, Cami”

“Hi Grace, I was getting ready to call you-“

“I’m not in the mood to chat, Cami. I need you to do something for me.”

“Okay, but-“

“Just listen to me! I need you to run down Conner Jameson and have him call me.”

“You mean you don’t know how to reach him?” Cami asked, and Grace could swear she heard a smirk in her tone.

“If I did would I ask you to do it?” Grace practically snarled into the phone.

“Okay, I just thought you said-“

“I know what I said!” Grace exclaimed, her voice rising a little louder than she intended. She didn’t need Cami reminding her that she had rejected the idea of calling Conner out of hand just the day before. She might not be desperate but it looked as though Susan Harris just might be- and she had practically promised the girl… Taking a deep calming breath, she spoke into the phone in a more reasonable tone.

“Cami, just get in touch with him for me, please.”

“Sure, boss. I was just going to tell you…”

Grace’s stomach tightened at the hesitation in Cami’s voice. She could feel a sense of awful dread in that pause.

“What?”

“There’s been another one. They found her about an hour ago.”

Grace couldn’t say anything. Not a word. Finally she heard Cami calling out to her over the phone she still held to her ear.

“Grace?! Are you still there? Did you hear me?”

“Yeah…Just get Conner to call me as soon as possible. I’ll talk to you later.” Grace said and flipped her phone shut and dropped it absently in her bag. She got into her car and sat there for a moment with the door hanging open. Finally the anger and frustration she had been working to control bubbled to the surface and with a mighty yank she slammed her car door shut with way more force than necessary, punctuating the action with a very loud, “Sonofabitch!”