MATHIS:
The original Ripper’s last victims were Heather Meeker and Rod McRae. Of Geneva, Illinois.
NORA:
But...but the media’s been covering those old murders. That means –
MATHIS:
You might’ve read something about those killings, just glanced at a newspaper, seen the faces of the victims, maybe the names.
NORA:
I could buy that if I hadn’t also had that dream predicting the most recent killing.
MATHIS:
I don’t think you predicted, Nora. I think you...witnessed it.
NORA:
Through some kind of, what? Psychic empathy with this monster’s other victims?
MATHIS:
And with the ’monster’ himself.
NORA:
It’s not his point of view I’m seeing. I died in that regression, Rich. And I died in the dream.
MATHIS:
Nora, does the date May 30, 1981, mean anything to you?
NORA:
Well...yes. It’s my birthday. I was born just before midnight. Why?
MATHIS:
Maybe nothing. But, uh...
NORA:
What?!?
MATHIS:
That’s the night Heather and Rod were killed.
NORA:
(very quietly) So...so I am her.
MATHIS:
We can’t know that. (a beat) Look, I’ve done some digging. Made some calls. You up for a day trip?
NARRATOR:
That afternoon Nora accompanies Rich Mathis on a day trip to Geneva, a lovely little town of quaint shops and restaurants and bike trails...and another trail that leads through streets of Prairie-style turn-of-the-century homes to a very modern facility. A nursing home.
SOUND:
Nursing home noise – hallway.
Footsteps on tile floor, two people.
MATHIS:
Heather’s father died ten years ago. Her mother has been here for the last eight years. Alzheimer’s patient.
SOUND:
Nurse’s desk. Perhaps softly ringing phone, muffled conversation.
NORA:
Excuse me. I’d like to speak to Mrs.
Meeker.
NURSE:
You’re welcome to try. We encourage visitors. But I’m afraid Mrs. Meeker hasn’t spoken a coherent word in years.
MATHIS:
How serious is her dementia?
NURSE:
It’s a sad situation. She’s only in her sixties, but seems far older – she can eat, feed herself. She can make it to and from the bathroom, with the aid of a walker. That’s the extent of her existence here.
NARRATOR:
The woman in the small private room is a frail, tiny, balding, baby bird of a human. She sits in an armchair watching a television with a game show playing and the sound turned off.
NURSE:
Mrs. Meeker, you have a visitor.
NORA:
(approaching) My name is Nora Chaney, Mrs. Meeker. I hope we might talk...
SOUND:
Squeak of chair.
NORA:
(whispered) She’s...she’s holding her arms out to me. Rich – Rich, what should I do?
MATHIS:
(whispered) Go to her.
NURSE:
Mrs. Meeker, you mustn’t get up without help!
MATHIS:
(almost to himself) But she is.
MRS. MEEKER:
Heather! Oh my darling Heather...you’ve come to visit me at last.
NARRATOR:
Nora holds the old woman in her arms. Then, for an hour or more, sits just holding Mrs. Meeker’s hand. Now and then, the old woman, whose dim eyes seem bright now, speaks the name, “Heather.” Her smile angelic.
NURSE:
(from doorway) Excuse me, but it’s time for Mrs. Meeker’s supper. You’ll have go.
MRS. MEEKER:
(desperate) Don’t leave!
Heather...my little angel...don’t go!
NORA:
I’ll be back...(emotional) Mother.
SOUND:
Footsteps in hall. Two people.
MATHIS:
I asked that nurse if Mrs. Meeker ever mistook a female visitor for her daughter before. She’s never reacted that way with anyone else.
SOUND:
Footsteps in hall fade. Dissolve to thrum of car as they drive back.
Rain. Windshield wiper noises. Plays under following.
NORA:
Oh!
MATHIS:
Are you all right?
NORA:
I fell asleep.
MATHIS:
That’s fine. (lightly joking) You’re not driving. But...Nora, what the hell is it?
MUSIC:
Ominous, eerie.
NORA:
(as if in a trance) I’m a redhead. In a flight attendant uniform.
I’m...doing a kind of striptease for this older man, in his fifties but with a lot of plastic surgery, and too-dark hair for his age.
MATHIS:
(muttered) Another dream...
NORA:
(still trance-like, building excitement) I strip slowly, then I go over to the bed and I just as slowly unbutton his shirt...now I’m stripping him...tug his pants down...then his shorts, and I’m...I’m pleasuring him when the door opens, must’ve forgot the nightlatch, and the man with the thin face and the blue and brown eyes comes in, slams the door, rushes over and there’s no time to scream before the butcher knife comes down...
MATHIS:
...There’s a rest stop. I’m pulling over.
SOUND:
Car pulls in. Engine shuts off. Rain continues. Wipers off.
MATHIS:
Are you all right?
NORA:
He kills couples who are having sex. I get that – but why me? The oldest virgin in Chicago!
MATHIS:
I doubt the oldest. Prettiest maybe.
NORA:
Take me to Detective Winters. I have to tell her.
MATHIS:
Good idea.
SOUND:
Car starts up again. Rain. Thunder.
Dissolve to cop bullpen noise.
WINTERS:
We just had a report that at a motel near O’Hare Airport, a maid has discovered two bodies with the Ripper’s usual M.O. Missing panties and all.
NORA:
I feel so helpless...
WINTERS:
I can’t take you to the crime scene. My superiors aren’t crazy about that article our friend Rich here published. A lot of people around the PD know I feed Rich tips, time to time.
NORA:
Then how can I help?
WINTERS:
Do I have to draw you a picture?
You’re the artist.
NARRATOR:
So the couple goes back to the loft apartment and Nora makes two more watercolors – one of a redheaded flight attendant, the other of an older man who had thought he’d gotten lucky. She e-mails the new pictures to Winters, who promptly calls her.
WINTERS:
(phone) Crime scene photos and your watercolors are a match, all right. So much so that I wish I could circulate that drawing you did of the Ripper to every cop in the city.
NORA:
Why don’t you then?
WINTERS:
(phone) Cops can’t pick up a suspect on the basis of a dreamer’s drawing.
Never mind getting laughed out of court, I couldn’t pick the bastard up in the first place.
NORA:
You could shadow him, or...
WINTERS:
(phone) I appreciate what you’re doing. Stay in touch.
SOUND:
Click of cell phone hanging up.
NORA:
Why don’t the police do something?
I’ve handed them the bastard!
MATHIS:
(upbeat) Maybe they will, pretty soon.
NORA:
What do you mean?
MATHIS:
Come over and sit on the couch with me.
SOUND:
Couch springs as she sits.
MATHIS:
I just got a text message – we’ve had several calls at the paper saying a man closely resembling your sketch has been seen in Evanston.
NORA:
(perking) You think there’s something to it?
MATHIS:
Well, one caller spoke of noticing the man had one blue eye and one brown one...
NORA:
Damn! D’you think Detective Winters would pay attention to that?
MATHIS:
Probably not. But I’ll drive around Evanston tomorrow myself, and show the picture around.
NORA:
The police should be doing that.
MATHIS:
Hey – it’s what I should be doing – I’m
