Never Knowing

by Chevy Stevens

  No matter where my thoughts took me, I couldn’t get the image of Danielle’s face out of my head. I hated that Sandy used her photo to manipulate me. I hated that it worked.

  * * *

  Later, while Ally had her bath, Evan and I talked on the phone. When I told him John wanted to meet, his first response was, “No way, Sara. You can’t do it.”

  “But what if this is the only chance to catch him?”

  “You can’t risk your life like that—what about Ally?”

  “I said that too, but the cops don’t think I’m in any real danger, and—”

  “Of course you’re in danger. He’s a serial killer and he just murdered a woman. Isn’t he already breaking his pattern or whatever they call it?”

  “They said they could protect me and they’d arrest him before we even spoke, and—”

  “This isn’t your responsibility.”

  “But think about it, Evan. This could get him out of our lives for good. Catching him would make me feel like I did something right. I’m in constant limbo, wondering what he’ll do next, when he’ll call, what he’ll say. You know what this is doing to me—to us. If they arrest him everything can go back to normal and we can just enjoy planning the wedding.”

  “I want you alive. Nothing else matters if he kills you.”

  “What if the cops used another girl as a decoy or—”

  “He’s seen pictures of you. If he realized it wasn’t you, he could go nuts and hurt lots of people, including you and Ally. I told you before, the police are just using you as bait. I won’t let you risk yourself like that.”

  “You won’t let me?”

  “You know what I mean. You’re not doing it, Sara.”

  Part of me wanted to argue, the part that hated being told what to do, but a bigger part was relieved he’d made the decision for me.

  “I was going to say I’ll tell them tomorrow, but they’re probably listening anyway.”

  Evan shouted into the phone, “She’s not doing it.”

  * * *

  After that call I thought I’d hear from Billy or Sandy, but the phone was blissfully silent. The next day John called.

  “Did you think about meeting me?”

  “Yeah, and I still don’t think it’s a good idea. It’s too risky.”

  “You said the cops don’t know.”

  “But I told you last time, they might be following me.”

  “They have no proof you’re my daughter and no idea we’re talking.”

  God, he was smart. I was running out of ways to say no. I went back to the police excuse—it was all I had.

  “They still might be watching, and—”

  “Don’t you want to meet me?”

  “Of course I do. But if the police are following me it could turn into a big shoot-out.”

  “I’ll protect you.”

  I almost laughed at the irony. The police wanted to protect me from him and he wanted to protect me from the police.

  “I know. But I have a daughter—I just can’t risk my life like that.”

  “What’s Ally doing right now?”

  “She’s in bed.”

  “Do you read stories to her?”

  “All the time.”

  “What’s her favorite?”

  I hesitated. The police said not to lie to him, but I couldn’t stand the idea of him knowing intimate details about Ally.

  “She loved Where the Wild Things Are.” She hated it.

  “What’s her favorite color?”

  “Pink.” Ally loves candy-apple red. Brighter the better.

  “I have to go. I’ll think about our meeting.”

  “No, John. I’m not going to meet you—”

  But I was talking to air.

  * * *

  John was making his way back down south—toward me. A trucker thought he’d seen someone near the pay phone around the time of the call, but he couldn’t describe him and hadn’t seen what he was driving. I barely slept that night, feeling John drawing near, hearing his tires on the pavement. The roads deserted as he traveled in the dark.

  The next day, Monday, another package arrived. Billy and Sandy came over within a half hour of my phone call. Sandy and I hadn’t spoken since she’d ambushed me at the station, so when I opened the door I only greeted Billy. Sandy, marching to the kitchen with her briefcase in hand, didn’t seem to notice.

  I held my breath while she carefully sliced open the box and lifted out a white jewelry box with her gloved hands. A small yellow envelope was taped on top. She set the box down on the counter and gently removed the envelope. Then she used a penknife to slice into the top, leaving the sticky part untouched. With tweezers she slid a card out of the envelope.

  In bold blue pen it said, For Ally, love from Grandpa.

  I stepped back in horror.

  “You okay, Sara?” Billy said.

  “That’s disgusting.” How dare he write to my child! I wanted to rip him apart from limb to limb, wanted to rip the card up in a million pieces.

  Billy gave a sympathetic smile.

  He held open a bag and Sandy carefully slid the envelope and card into it. Next he slowly lifted the lid off the jewelry box. Both Sandy and Billy were crowding over it, so I couldn’t see the contents.

  Sandy shook her head. “What a sick bastard.”

  “Let me see,” I said.

  They moved to the side as I came closer. Nestled in white cotton was a doll dressed in a pink sweater and blue jeans. I remembered Danielle’s sister sobbing on TV as she described what Danielle was wearing the last time she was seen alive. But it was the sight of the auburn hair glued to the faceless head that hit me the hardest. As I stared at the smooth metal my brain superimposed the image of her face agonized in death. I turned away.

  Sandy said, “You need to have a good look in case he asks you anything.”

  “Just give me a minute.” I sat down at the table and took a few deep breaths. “I keep seeing her face in that photo.”

  “Have you given any more thought to meeting with him?” Sandy spun around, still holding the jewelry box.

  “Evan won’t let me. He’s too worried.”

  Billy nodded. “He wants you to be safe.”

  “It’s so risky.” I stared at the box in Sandy’s hands. “But if I did it…”

  “We arrest him and this all ends,” Billy said. “The gifts, the phone calls…”

  “Women being murdered,” Sandy said.

  “You know, Sandy, the guilt trip doesn’t help. What you did with the photo was horrible.”

  She glanced at Billy, who cleared his throat. Her jaw tightened, but she said, “You’re right, Sara. That was over the line.”

  For a moment I was startled, but as I met her eyes and she looked away, I knew there wasn’t one speck of sorry in her. I shook my head and turned back to Billy.

  “I thought about the exact same things, Billy, but if I do it Evan’s going to be really upset.”

  “Do you want me to talk to him?”

  “No, it would just make it worse if he felt you were pressuring me. He doesn’t think I should be helping at all, it’s too dangerous. And he’s right. I’m risking Ally, especially now that John knows about her.”

  “We don’t believe your family is at risk, but—”

  “But he wants something from us. You said it yourself a couple of times—his demands keep increasing. What’s next? He demands to meet Ally?”

  “That’s one of our concerns too. If we don’t act fast he’ll keep escalating.”

  “But if I meet him so much could go wrong.”

  Billy nodded. “Yes, it could. That’s why we’re not asking you to do it—even though this may be our only opportunity to stop him.”

  “What if he got away? He’d know I tipped you off.”

  “You’ve already set up a good explanation for that—the media coverage. You’ve warned him we could be following you.”

  “But he might not believe it, and
then he’d either disappear again or decide to punish me.” We were all silent. After a moment I said, “What are your chances of catching him any other way?”

  “We’re trying everything we can, but…” He shook his head.

  “Maybe he’ll stop, he’s getting older.”

  But I already knew how unlikely that was before Billy said, “Serial killers don’t just stop. They get caught, usually for other crimes, or they die.”

  Sandy held out the jewelry box. “I hope you like these, because you’re going to be getting a lot more of them.”

  I glared at her. “That’s really nice.”

  “It’s reality.”

  Billy’s voice was firm. “Sandy, give it a rest.” I expected her to tell him off, but she just studied her cell. He turned to me. “Are you ready to have a closer look at the doll?”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. Sandy handed me a pair of gloves. After I slid them on, she passed me the box.

  “Just hold it by the edges and don’t touch anything else.”

  As I examined the doll carefully, I tried not to think of Danielle, how pretty she was, how her hair was the same color as mine, how she died with my father’s hands around her throat.

  * * *

  John called later that day from his cell when I was making a cup of coffee.

  “Did she get it?”

  “The doll arrived, yes. Thanks.” I almost choked on the last word.

  “Did you give it to Ally?”

  “No, she’s just a little girl, John. She wouldn’t understand—”

  “You won’t let me talk to her, and now you won’t let me send her presents? I made it for her.”

  “I’ll save it until she’s older. She’s so young—I was worried she’d lose it.”

  He was breathing heavy into the phone.

  “Are you okay?”

  It sounded like he was talking through clenched teeth when he said, “No—the noise. It’s bad right now.”

  I stood motionless, my hand still on the coffeepot. What noise? I strained my ears. Did he have another girl? I heard something. Laughter? Then chopping sounds. An axe hitting wood?

  I forced myself to take a slow, deep breath.

  “John, where are you?”

  The sound stopped.

  “Can you please tell me where you are?”

  “I’m at a campsite.”

  My heart went into overdrive. “Why are you there?”

  He hissed into the phone, “I told you—the noise.”

  “Okay, okay. Just talk to me. What are you doing at the campsite?”

  “They’re laughing.”

  “Drive away. Please, I’m begging you, just drive away.”

  The sound of a truck door opening. “They have to stop—”

  “Wait! I’ll meet you. Okay? I’ll meet you.” God help me.

  * * *

  Now you know why I had to see you a day early. It took me a few minutes to get John back in his truck and away from the campsite. I just kept telling him how great it would be to meet him, basically getting him to focus on something else. It was hard at first—he kept talking about the noise, then about the campers laughing. Then I’d say something like, “I can’t believe I’m finally going to meet my dad.” Eventually he calmed down and said he’d phone soon so we could arrange our meeting. I’m supposed to go see Billy and Sandy after I’m done here—they want to go over everything in case John wants to set up something right away. He’d called from just north of Merritt, a small town only four hours from Vancouver. He was heading in this direction.

  When I told Evan last night he said, “They’re just manipulating you, Sara.”

  “They who?”

  “All of them—the cops and John.”

  “Don’t you think I’m smart enough to know when I’m being manipulated?”

  “Meeting with John is reckless when you have a child. Did you even think about her? You had no right to agree to something this big without talking to me first.”

  “Are you kidding me? I put Ally above everything—you know that. And where do you get off telling me what I have a right to do?”

  “Sara, you need to stop yelling or I’m—”

  “You need to stop being a jerk.”

  Now his voice was raised. “I’m not going to talk to you if you keep yelling.”

  “Then you shouldn’t say asshole things like that.”

  He was silent.

  “So now you’re not going to speak at all? And I’m the immature one.”

  “I’m not discussing anything with you until you take it down a notch.”

  I gritted my teeth and took a few big breaths. Forcing myself to speak calmly, I said, “Evan, you have no idea what it was like talking to him, knowing he was picking out his next victim. If I didn’t say the exact right thing, someone was going to die. Can’t you understand how horrible that felt? Billy said the faster we catch him, the faster he’s out of our lives. And it’s true. Even if the cops are manipulating me, it doesn’t change the facts.”

  Evan was silent for a long moment, then finally said, “Shit. I hate this, Sara.”

  “Me too. But can’t you see I didn’t have any other choice?”

  “You had another choice—you just didn’t take it. I get why you felt you had to say yes, but I still don’t like it, and I don’t agree with it. If it’s going to happen, then I want to be home. I’ll shut down the lodge if I have to, but I want to ride with the cops when it goes down.”

  “I’m sure they won’t have a problem with that.”

  We talked for a little while longer. He apologized for accusing me of being reckless, I apologized for calling him names, then we said our good nights. But I don’t think either of us actually had one. I spent hours staring at the ceiling. All I could think about was the campers John had been watching. They didn’t know how close to death they’d come. Then I wondered how close I was.

  SESSION FOURTEEN

  Right now, I’m a train wreck. The more Evan tries to calm me down, the more upset I get. Then I hate myself, which makes me lose it even more, so Evan tries even harder to calm me down or goes all take-control-alpha-male, so then I turn into an irrational bitch from hell.

  But when I finally get a reaction from him, when his face flushes and he raises his voice or walks off, that’s when I calm down. Then I look over everything I’d just said or did and feel horribly ashamed, so I suck up, trying to squirm my way out of whatever mess I’d just caused. Thankfully he doesn’t hold a grudge for long and in typical Evan fashion drops it and moves on, but I’m the one who can’t let it go.

  This isn’t the first time we’ve talked about my overreactions, and then my overreaction to my overreaction. It’s funny I can even use that term with you, because if anyone else in my life even hints I’m overreacting it’s guaranteed to make me see red. You’ve told me it’s never about the situation at hand—that’s just the switch. It’s the currents between people sparking off each other that cause the problem. You have to deal with the way you’re fighting, not what you’re fighting about. How many times did you try to hammer that into me? You’d think I’d have gotten the hang of it by now, but in the moment? It all goes out the window. At least now I know where I got it from.

  * * *

  After John’s initial excitement about meeting I thought he’d want to set something up right away, but when he called after I got home from our last session he just wanted to talk about Ally. I kept trying to change the subject, but when I mentioned the meeting he said he was still considering how best to go about it, then he brought up Ally again. I hated talking about my daughter with him, hated wondering what he was doing with the information.

  Sandy and Billy, who I saw every day once I agreed to meet John, didn’t understand why he was stalling either but agreed it would look odd if I started pushing and said I should let him bring it up. Now that I’d made the decision to meet, I couldn’t wait to get it over with. Especially because it didn’t look li
ke we were going to get him any other way.

  He’d called from near Cranbrook, which was a surprise. They’d expected he’d keep heading south, not eight hours east. His next call came from a pay phone even farther east, almost to the Alberta border. I spent hours staring at the map, trying to figure out what he was thinking, why he was heading in the opposite direction.

  Every call he wanted to know more and more about Ally, and I was walking a tightrope between truth and lies. I didn’t know how Internet-savvy he was, so on things I thought he could verify, like birth dates or school info, I was careful to tell the truth, but when he asked about her likes and dislikes, I lied my butt off. Ally now hated cheese and red meat, was easygoing, shy with strangers, and terrible at sports. I had to make notes so I wouldn’t forget the details about this new daughter I was creating.

  Evan was happy John hadn’t picked a date and was hoping he’d changed his mind—but he didn’t like that John was asking so many questions about Ally either. He again suggested she come up to the lodge with him, but I told him it wouldn’t be good for her—she’d get too far behind in school. Of course, he told me she’d be fine and that I worry too much. But I know my daughter. It doesn’t take much to throw her off. Her teacher’s been all over me since she pushed the other little girl. I don’t know if she’s heard the rumors, but I noticed an extra note of concern in her voice when she spoke about Ally. I didn’t want to give her more fuel.

  * * *

  Finally, Friday night, John called—this time from his cell.

  “So how’s Monday?”

  “To meet?” My heart started to race. “Okay.”

  “I’ve been looking over a map.”

  I heard Sandy in my head. You have to pick the spot. Location is paramount.

  “I know the perfect place. It’s one of my favorite parks and I take Ally there all the time.”

  “Where’s that?”