Never Knowing

by Chevy Stevens

  “I’m not dealing with you anymore.” I hung up.

  I tried to call Evan, but he still didn’t answer. I had to talk to someone. Billy answered on the first ring.

  “I want Sandy off the case. I won’t work with her.”

  “Uh-oh. What’s going on?”

  “I just drove all the way down to Victoria to see my birth mother—because I stupidly thought she might actually want to visit—but it turns out she was just trying to talk me into meeting John. I got there early, and saw Sandy leaving her house. She talked Julia into it! Did you know about this?”

  “I know Sandy’s been speaking to her, Julia’s a very important witness. But I don’t believe she was trying to set up—”

  “Don’t you think it’s pretty convenient she just happened to be there on the same day?”

  Billy was quiet for a moment. “Would you like me to speak to her?”

  “What’s the point? God, I feel like such an idiot for thinking Julia really wanted a visit. But she just…” I stopped as tears threatened again.

  Billy said, “Where are you right now?”

  “Coming back from Victoria.”

  “Why don’t I grab some coffee and sandwiches and I’ll meet you at your house? We can talk about it, okay?”

  “Really? You don’t mind?”

  “Not at all. Call me when you’re closer to Nanaimo.”

  The rest of the drive I rehearsed all the things I wanted to say to Sandy, but Julia’s voice kept breaking in. If you stop him, it will have been worth it.

  * * *

  When I pulled in my driveway, Billy stepped out of his SUV with a smile, holding a tray with two Tim Hortons coffee cups and a brown paper bag.

  “There’s not much Timmy can’t fix.”

  “Not so sure about that.” I smiled.

  “Well, we can try.” After I let Moose into the backyard, Billy and I sat on the back patio and tucked into our sandwiches.

  I studied him across the table. “Do you think I’m a murderer if I don’t meet with John?”

  “Where did you get that?”

  “That’s what Julia said.”

  “Ouch.” His eyes radiated sympathy.

  “Yeah. Evan said it wouldn’t be my fault if he kills someone.”

  “Of course it isn’t. As a police officer I always feel responsible when a suspect gets away, but I just try to learn from it and do a better job next time.”

  As we worked on our sandwiches I thought about what he’d said. But Billy wasn’t done with the subject.

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Sara. But if you choose not to meet him, you can’t blame yourself for the rest of your life when he does something.”

  “The thing is, if it was just up to me I would try to set up another meeting. I was going to call and tell you that, but Evan flipped out. There’s no way he’d let me do it again.”

  “He’s just trying to protect you.”

  “I get that, but he doesn’t torture himself like I do. I know it sounds nuts, but it’s like I can feel everything those victims feel, what their families feel. Don’t you ever feel like that when you work a case? Like you’re losing yourself?”

  “It’s hard, but you learn to compartmentalize.”

  I sighed. “That’s my problem. I can’t separate from anything. Even when I was a kid I had a one-track mind. Dad used to hate it because I’d be right into something for a while and I’d go on and on about it for days, then the next week it was something else.” I laughed. “What were you like as a kid?”

  “I got into trouble all the time—fighting, drinking, stealing. My dad kicked me out when I was seventeen and I had to live at a friend’s.”

  “Wow! That’s awful.”

  “It worked out for the best.” He shrugged. “I joined a gym near my house, and this old cop who taught kickboxing took me out on a few ride-alongs. He talked me into being a cop or I’d probably be behind bars.”

  “I’m glad you decided to be one of the good guys.”

  “Me too.” He was grinning.

  “Are you and your dad close now?”

  “He’s a pastor. All he cares about is church and God, in that order.”

  “Really? What was that like growing up?”

  “If you think I have a lot of quotes, my dad could preach the Bible word for word.” He smiled, but I saw a flash of something hard in his eyes before he looked down at his empty coffee cup.

  “Was he strict? You know, ‘spare the rod’ and all that?”

  He nodded. “Not violent or anything, but he believes in penance.” He gave a short laugh. “When I was a kid, I got in a fight at Sunday school because I was trying to stop a boy from beating up a smaller kid. Dad made me apologize to the whole congregation—then kneel at the front of the church and renounce my sins and beg the Lord’s forgiveness. That was just for starters.”

  “But you were just trying to protect someone. Didn’t you explain what happened?”

  “There’s no explaining anything to my father. But I know what I did was right. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

  “It’s weird thinking of you having a dad like that. You’re so calm and logical.”

  “Now, sure. But it took me a while to get there.”

  “Really?”

  “I had a bad temper when I was in my twenties. When I first joined the RCMP I wanted to take down every criminal myself.”

  “Back that up. You had a temper?”

  A mischievous grin. “I may have bent a few rules.”

  “Or a few faces, right? I knew it!”

  His expression grew serious. “A case got thrown out because of me and I was suspended—almost got kicked off the force. It was a hard lesson, but I learned to work within the system.”

  “But don’t you get frustrated? Like when someone keeps getting away with crimes?” I shook my head. “If John got off on a technicality, I’d go nuts. It would be pretty tempting to take matters into my own hands.”

  Billy’s face was intent, troubled. I didn’t fill in the silence.

  “That case I just told you about?” he said finally. “It was a serial rapist. After months we had a lead on where he might be staying and I decided to check it out. When I got there I saw a man leaving who fit the suspect’s description. The rapist always took his victims’ clothes, so I climbed in a window looking for evidence—and sure enough, there was a bag in the closet filled with women’s clothing. I was about to leave when the suspect walked in the front door. When he saw me, he took off running and I gave chase.… It didn’t end well.”

  “What happened?”

  He met my eyes. “Let’s just say I let my emotions rule my head and I made a mistake.”

  “But you always seem so in control.” I was intrigued that Billy might have another side to him. One a lot more like myself.

  “The Art of War changed my life—kickboxing helped too. When you’re in the ring you find out fast that if you lose your cool, you lose your coordination.”

  “Huh, interesting. Are your tattoos from the book?”

  He pointed to his left arm. “This one says, ‘Weakness stems from preparing against attack.’” He pointed to his right arm. “And this one is, ‘Strength stems from obliging the enemy to prepare against an attack.’ I got them when I joined Serious Crimes.”

  “They’re really cool.”

  He smiled. “Thanks.”

  We finished our sandwiches, then Billy’s BlackBerry dinged. He unclipped it from his belt and glanced down.

  “Looks like you got another e-mail from John.” I’d almost forgotten the police were forwarding all my e-mails to themselves. Billy’s face was tense as he scrolled down.

  “What does it say?”

  He handed me the phone.

  IF YOU WON’T TALK TO ME,

  I’LL FIND SOMEONE WHO WILL.

  Fear slammed through my body, forcing the air out of my chest in a rush. He was going to do it—he was going to kill so
meone else. I tried to say something to Billy, but my whole body felt like it was pulsing with the blood roaring in my ears.

  Billy said, “Are you all right?”

  I shook my head. “What … what’s going to happen?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll trace where this came from and make sure the detachments across BC increase their patrols at campsites.”

  “What do I do now?”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know—if I start talking to him again Evan’s going to be really upset, but if John…”

  “Only you can make that decision, Sara. But I have to go make some calls. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

  * * *

  As soon as he left I went upstairs and stared at John’s e-mail, my heart and thoughts going a mile a minute, then it was time to get Ally. Thank God she chattered about her day all the way home, because my mind spun around and around. What was I going to do about John? Hours later I wasn’t any closer to an answer.

  To distract myself I Googled Billy and found an article about the case he’d mentioned. What he didn’t tell me was that after he chased the rapist they got into a fight. He grabbed Billy’s gun and as they struggled for it the thing went off, injuring an old lady walking her dog. Because Billy had unlawfully entered the house, the judge wouldn’t allow the evidence into court and the rapist got a stay of proceedings. No wonder Billy did everything by the book now. Even though he broke some major rules, I was impressed he went after the guy on his own like that.

  After Ally was in bed Evan finally called back. I told him about John’s e-mail and what had happened at Julia’s.

  “That’s a pile of horseshit. I can’t believe she did that to you. Just write that woman off, Sara. You don’t deserve that.”

  “But you kind of have to see things from her point of view. I know what it feels like to live in fear of what’s going to happen next. If there was someone who could stop me from feeling that way right now—”

  “There is—the police. You have to let them do their job.”

  “Billy’s trying.”

  Evan was quiet.

  I said, “What?”

  “I just think it’s weird that he brought you lunch.”

  “I was upset—he was trying to make me feel better. And I’m glad he was here when I got that e-mail.”

  “Seems like Billy’s always trying to make you feel better.”

  “He’s a policeman—he’s just doing his job. At least he never makes me feel pressured like Sandy does.”

  “Don’t kid yourself. He’s probably just playing good cop.”

  “He is a good cop.”

  There was a long pause, then Evan said in a flat voice, “You want to talk to John.”

  “I don’t want to talk to him, I want to stop him.” He didn’t say anything, so I continued. “Do you know how hard it was to hear that from Julia? That I’m the one person who can make her feel safe again? The same person who went looking for her and started all—”

  “He raped your mother, that’s how this started.”

  “I know, but I’m the one who can stop it.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I think … I think I should try to meet with him.”

  “No, I already told you. No way.”

  “What if I just start talking to him again? Maybe I can coax him to reveal more, or at least take his attention away from the campsites.”

  “Why can’t you just let it be?”

  My voice broke as I said, “Because I can’t. I just can’t.”

  Evan’s voice was gentle. “Baby, you know this isn’t going to make Julia love you, right?”

  “This isn’t about trying to get her to love me. But if you love me, Evan, you should understand why I have to do this.”

  “I think there’s a part of you that likes being the only one who can stop him—that’s why you can’t let it go.”

  “That’s a horrible thing to say. You actually think I like that my father is a serial killer and he already killed a woman because of me?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that, I mean you just don’t know how to—”

  “Stick my head in the sand and pretend everything is okay? Like you?”

  “Now, that’s a horrible thing to say.”

  We were both silent.

  Finally Evan sighed and said, “We’re just going around in circles. If you’re going to talk to him again, just be prepared that he’s going to try and set up another meeting.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, Evan. I just need to know I have your support.”

  “I’m not happy about you talking to him, but I understand why you feel you have to. But I mean it, Sara—I don’t want you to try to meet him again.”

  “I won’t do anything without talking to you about it first, okay?”

  “You better not.”

  “Or what?” I said it in a teasing tone, but Evan’s voice when he answered was serious.

  “I’m not kidding, Sara.”

  * * *

  Over the weekend I thought about what I should do and talked to Billy about it again. He said Sandy told him she never coerced Julia into speaking to me, it was something she wanted to do on her own. Maybe, but I have my doubts. Sandy’s so driven I think she’d do just about anything to get John. As time went on and I still hadn’t made a decision, I wondered if I could get away with never having to. Then Julia called on Monday.

  “I heard he e-mailed you again, Sara. Are you going to talk to him?”

  “I haven’t decided.” I braced for her anger.

  “Well, while you’re deciding, maybe you should consider this—the police said I might be the next person he tries to contact.” Her voice quivered on the last word and I realized how scared she was. “This time I hope he kills me.”

  Then she hung up.

  It took a full five minutes for my heart to stop pounding. I called Evan, but he didn’t answer. I knew I should talk to him before I made a decision and I did wait another hour, but when he still didn’t answer an odd kind of calm settled over me. I knew what I had to do.

  I went upstairs and typed out an e-mail to John. All it contained was one sentence—How can I help you, John?—and my new phone numbers. Then, before I could allow myself to think about it any longer, I hit send.

  * * *

  But I still haven’t heard from him. It just about killed me not to ask Sandy if she told Julia I’d e-mailed him back. Does she like me now? Now that I’m risking my life and my family? Now that Evan’s pissed off at me? Then I told myself over and over again that I don’t care what she thinks. I’m getting so good at lying, I almost believe it.

  The thing is, though, it’s not just for her. This will never end unless I find a way to make it end. And in my gut I know the only way to do that is to meet with him—you even agree with me. I know it’s crazy for me to think I can do something the police can’t. But sometimes, on a deep kinetic level, as much as I don’t understand what John does, something inside me does get it. I do think I have the power to stop him. And Evan is right, I like it.

  Then I think of John, of that moment when he’s standing over those women, or lining someone up in his gun sights. I wonder if this is how he feels.

  SESSION SEVENTEEN

  Have you ever felt like you had it all in your hands, everything you ever wanted, but then you dropped it, or maybe you just squeezed too hard? The whole way here I was trying to come up with the perfect analogy for what’s been going on. And isn’t that just the story of my life? I’m always trying to make it perfect.

  You know what my past relationships were like—epic dramas I discussed with anyone willing to listen. Either I was completely obsessed with my ex-boyfriends or they were completely obsessed with me. And as your thick file can attest, things didn’t end well.

  God, when you used to say, “You’ll know when it’s the right person.…” I wanted to throw things at you. But you’d just
give me that all-knowing smile of yours and say, “Trust me, Sara, real love doesn’t feel like that.” If I was currently entangled in a relationship that was heading straight for a cliff, even if deep down I knew it, I’d argue with you until I was blue in the face that he was The One!

  I never understood just how wrong they all were and just how right you were until I met Evan. My past relationships were like a brutal hockey game—a brawl could break out at any minute, we were never on the same side, and no one ever won. Evan and I were always on the same team. I never had to look behind me or question where he was—I knew he was skating beside me, working in tandem with the same goal in sight. But it’s like all of a sudden I looked up and now he’s on the opposite side of the rink, we’re both playing defense, and someone’s going to get slammed into the wall.

  What’s been happening between Evan and me lately, all this fighting, isn’t good. It scares me as much as John does. But it’s my own reactions that scare me the most. Because when someone pushes me, I push back harder.

  * * *

  John finally called the day after our last session.

  “I missed talking to you.”

  I didn’t answer right away, wasn’t sure I could without calling him every name in the book.

  “I’m glad you e-mailed,” he said. “I was worried.”

  He was worried? That was interesting. Billy and most of the books I’d read said serial killers don’t feel remorse but knew how to emulate it, so I figured they must understand the principle behind it. I decided to test my theory.

  “What you did was horrible, John.”

  “What I did?”

  “Leaving the Barbie with its face burned off, then sending e-mails you know are going to upset me. You made me feel awful.”

  “You lied to me.”

  “You were asking unfair questions. You might be Ally’s biological grandfather, but I don’t know what you want from us—or from her. I’d have to be crazy to give you personal details about my child.”

  “I just wanted to get to know you better.” He sounded unsure, like he was thrown off guard by my confident tone.

  “But you’re not sure if you can trust me yet, right? It’s the same for me. If you genuinely want to get to know me, you can’t flip out like that. And if you get mad you can’t just threaten me. You have to tell me what’s bothering you and we’ll try to deal with it, okay?”