Skeletons in the Closet

Chapter 25

Before meeting Catherine Breslin, I did my homework. I researched all that I could about how attack at the hands of The Butcher, gathering every last detail of the incident that I could find. Unfortunately, that didn't entail much.

Brian had given me a look at the police report but nothing of note stood out other than one thing: Catherine had been attacked in public. All of the other Butcher victims had been attacked in their homes, their private spaces violated before they themselves were. Catherine had been attacked in Denslow park, twenty minutes from downtown. Why would The Butcher change things up for her only to go right back to standard operating procedure on the next victim?

Meeting with Catherine Breslin brought out nerves in me that I never knew existed. I'd always been something of a confident person, so nerves were not something I was familiar with. But meeting with the only other person to escape The Butcher made my stomach flutter fiercely.

I'd decided against showing up to her apartment. That would set an uneasy tone to the meeting by invading upon her turf and throwing these sorts of questions at her. In her position, I would probably feel like I was being ambushed in my own home, too.

Instead, Brian had helped me track down her phone number in addition to her address in case showing up at her front door turned out to be the last resort.

My heart began to race faster as the phone rang. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I needed to be calm and steady; letting Catherine know how scared I was wouldn't help.

"Hello?", a timid voice answered.

I froze momentarily before shoving aside the nerves.

"Catherine?"l, I blurted. "Hi, uh, my name is Della Vade. Look, I know this is out of the blue but I was hoping to talk to you about...well, about The Butcher of Bathurst."

Silence on the other end of the phone. I could faintly hear her breathing, otherwise I would have sworn she had hung up.

"How did you get this number?", her voice still timid but she had cleared made an effort to sound stronger.

"I know this is probably not something you wanted to deal with," I said placatingly. The last thing I needed was to scare her away. "I'm working with a couple of detectives and they helped me find your number. I wanted to talk to you because...well, because I got away, too."

I could hear her suck in air suddenly, a stifled gasp followed by more silence.

"I was hoping we could meet," I said to break the silence. "Talk about what happened with you. With me. Maybe you can help me see something that could help catch this guy."

She let out a breath softly, not quite a sigh but closely resembling one. Though I couldn't see her, I could see her trepidation in my mind's eye. This was not a decision she took likely, nor did I expect her to.

"Okay," she said finally, uncertainly. "Where did you have in mind?"

We settled on a diner near her apartment -- I couldn't pass up the opportunity to check out one I hadn't been to yet -- and agreed to meet up for lunch. I assured her that if there were any questions that she did not want to answer, I wouldn't twist her arm. I understood the feelings she was experiencing and the last thing I wanted to do was betray the fragile trust we'd built by pushing her too hard.

I arrived to the diner on Collins Street ten minutes prior to our scheduled meeting time. Part of that was habit -- I liked to be early whenever possible -- but part of it was to allow me to mentally go over my game plan. I didn't want to handle this from the hip unless I felt like the conversation was slipping away and I might lose her entirely.