Page 16 of Never Knowing


  Ally wanted Spider-Man walkie-talkies for the birthday boy, but the store was out and we didn’t have time to go to another one. I assured her Jake would like the science kit, feeling like the worst mother in the world when I saw how disappointed she was. After I came home from dropping Ally off, I planned on getting some work done. But then I got a call from Julia.

  * * *

  I didn’t recognize the number showing on the cordless, but the area code was Victoria and it could be a client.

  The first words out of Julia’s mouth were, “Has he called you again?”

  “Ah…” The police warned me not to tell anyone, but she was in the same boat as me. Didn’t she have a right to know?

  “He has, yes.”

  “He sent you my earrings—I had to identify them.”

  I didn’t have a response, but I had a feeling she didn’t want one.

  She said, “Has he said anything about me?”

  John’s voice rang in my head. I saw Julia’s photo in the paper.

  “Nothing.”

  “I want to move, but Katharine thinks we should stay. I can’t sleep.” Her tone was bitter. Blaming.

  “They’re going to catch him—”

  “That’s what Sandy says, but I’ve been told that so many times.…”

  “You’ve talked to Sandy?”

  “The police keep me updated.” How nice. “I have to go.”

  “Do you want me to call you if…” If what?

  But she’d already hung up, leaving me wondering why she’d phoned in the first place. Then I wondered if even she knew why.

  * * *

  I dialed Sandy’s cell and as soon as she answered said, “I just talked to Julia.”

  “Did you call her again?”

  Why did she assume I’d called Julia, not the other way around? My face was hot.

  “She called me.”

  “I hope you didn’t discuss the case with her?”

  “She asked if he called again and I said yes. That’s it.”

  “Sara, you have to be careful with—”

  “She already knew he’d call and she knows he sent me her earrings. If I denied everything she would’ve wondered more. She said you’ve been filling her in yourself anyway.”

  Sandy didn’t say anything, so I jumped in with my own questions.

  “What have you found out about the dolls? It’s the victims’ hair, isn’t it?”

  “We’re still waiting for the DNA results.”

  “Have you notified their families?”

  “Not at this point. We need to be careful how we approach this—they don’t know the Campsite Killer is in contact with someone.”

  “After all those calls today, please tell me you have a lead.”

  “Not yet.” Her voice was curt. “The calls were getting closer to Cache Creek, moving west of Kamloops. There are a lot of provincial parks in the area, so he’s probably traveling on back roads.”

  “Maybe he’s heading back up north?”

  “Try not to speculate, Sara.” Her schoolteacher tone was bugging the crap out of me.

  “Isn’t that what police work is?”

  I was proud of my comeback until she said, “No, it’s a careful analysis of data and facts, then the drawing of a conclusion based on hard evidence.”

  “Well, then. Are there any facts or data that might give us an idea of what he does for a living? He seems to be on the road a lot, so I was thinking he could be a truck driver or a deliveryman or—”

  “All possibilities. I’m about to step into a meeting now. Can I have Billy call you back so you can discuss it further with him?”

  “No, I’m fine.” I hung up the phone, frowning. What did I ever do to that woman?

  * * *

  I worked in the shop until it was time to pick up Ally. I was still trying to finish the cherry lamp table, but my heart wasn’t in it. It didn’t help that John’s comment about “rich tones” kept flickering through my brain. Of course he liked the wood—it probably reminded him of blood. I shuddered at the macabre thought. I was used to being away from Evan for long stretches of time, especially during the summer, but it was never easy. Today I missed him terribly and wished I could call him, but he was out on the boat all day.

  We’d been talking every night—we had a long call after I found out I was part First Nations. Evan thought it was great. But it was weird knowing Sandy or Billy, or whoever else, could listen whenever they wanted. It was also hard when Lauren and I talked on the phone because she’d say something personal and I knew she was being taped but she didn’t. I usually tried to stick to the subject of our kids or the wedding. But not telling her what was really going on was killing me.

  We’d finally made plans to go dress-shopping on Sunday. We were all going to meet at my house in the morning and drive to Victoria in my truck. Lauren was already baking something and I knew she’d have a thermos of coffee. Melanie, well, I was sure she’d bring her attitude. I was hoping like crazy this would be one of the days I didn’t hear from John.

  The rest of the afternoon passed quietly and I picked up Ally, who was so burned out she fell into bed after her bath. When I tucked her in she informed me Jake already had two science kits. I felt so bad I told her I’d take some of her friends to a matinee soon, but she said, “You’ll just forget, Mommy.” I swore I wouldn’t, my heart breaking that she doubted me. When I kissed her good night and whispered that I loved her, she didn’t say it back. I told myself she was just tired. Evan called later and we managed to have a nice talk right up until I heard my cell ring.

  “Hang on a sec, baby.” I checked the display. “It’s John.”

  “Call me back.”

  I picked up the cell. “Hello?”

  “Sara…” There was a long pause.

  I said, “You still there?”

  “Did you like the dolls?” He slurred the last words and I wondered if he’d been drinking. In the background I heard traffic.

  “Are you driving?”

  “I asked you a question.”

  It was a phrase my dad used often when I was growing up, guaranteed to make me not want to answer at all, but I said, “Yeah, I like them. I told you that.”

  “I wasn’t sure … wasn’t sure you would.” The slurring again.

  What do I do with this? I waited him out.

  “This is how it should be. Father and daughter … talking.”

  “For sure.”

  All I heard was breathing.

  I said, “It meant a lot to me when you sent the dolls. I know they’re important to you.” I paused, but he was still quiet. “And I like talking to you. You’re an interesting guy.” It killed me to let him believe I liked anything about him.

  “Yeah?”

  “Absolutely. You have some great stories.”

  “Remind me to tell you about the time … I killed a bear with just my .22—only took one shot. Sucker had been tracking me.… Did you know grizzlies will track and kill other bears?”

  I was about to answer when a car honked on his end.

  “We’ll talk more soon.” He hung up.

  I called Evan back and told him what had just happened.

  “That’s weird.”

  “No kidding. I’m going to Victoria with the girls tomorrow and I don’t know what I’m going to do if he calls.”

  “Treat him like you would a normal person—tell him you’re busy.”

  “But he’s not a normal person.”

  “Let’s talk about something else. How was Ally’s birthday party today?”

  “We almost missed it because John called three times this morning—it was awful. And I forgot Jake’s birthday party so we had to get a present on the way there. Ally was so upset.”

  “Poor Ally. She feels neglected.”

  “Excuse me? Are you saying I’m neglecting my daughter?”

  “I didn’t mean it like how you’re about to take it. Let’s not go there.”

  “Yo
u already took it there, Evan. I feel bad enough without you getting on my case too.”

  “I’m sorry I said anything. I know you’re having a hard time.”

  We were both silent for a moment. I imagined Sandy in a room somewhere, headphones on, listening to my relationship problems, smiling that condescending smile.

  I said, “I appreciate that you’re looking out for me—”

  “I am.”

  “I know, but I can take care of myself.”

  He laughed.

  “Hey! I’ve managed just fine for years.”

  His voice teased, “Just admit you were a mess before you fell in love with me.” This time I laughed, not even caring if Sandy was listening.

  * * *

  The next morning the girls arrived around nine-thirty, just after I dropped Ally off at Meghan’s. We took my Cherokee and Lauren brought fresh-baked scones and a thermos full of coffee. The drive down was fun, with everyone talking at once and Lauren cracking runaway bride jokes. Melanie was even in a good mood, although we had a close call when she asked to use my cell phone because she’d forgotten hers. When I hesitated she kept looking at me, so I grabbed it out of my purse and handed it over. I was terrified John would call while she was on the phone, but she just made a quick call to Kyle.

  The morning flew by as we hit the downtown boutiques. We were planning to have an outdoor wedding, so Evan and I were trying to stick with a natural theme. We found a bridesmaid dress that was perfect. It was this strapless tea-length chiffon in a gorgeous silvery green, almost a sage, like the flat side of fir needles, and it looked great on both girls. After we ordered the dresses we had a late lunch at an Irish pub overlooking the inner harbor. It was nice to have a day when I could just laugh and talk about familiar, everyday things. Normal things. But I forgot my life was anything but normal.

  * * *

  After the girls came back to my place and got their vehicles, I picked up Ally. As soon as we walked into the house I dug my cell phone out of my purse to put it on the charger.

  Twenty missed calls.

  I scrolled through the list of numbers. They were all from John and Billy. I checked my voice mail, but there was just one message from Billy to call him ASAP, then five hang-ups. Why hadn’t I heard it ring?

  I grabbed the cordless and called my cell. It vibrated in my hand. On its side there’s a button that changes it from ring to vibrate, but I hadn’t touched my cell since that morning. It must have gotten bumped in my purse when I dropped my wallet back in.

  I called John right away, but his cell was off. Then I phoned Billy and got his voice mail. I left a message.

  For the next hour I paced around my house, glancing at the phone, willing it to ring, worried about why Billy hadn’t called back yet, and all the while struggling to stay calm so Ally didn’t sense something was wrong. Finally, just after I put her to bed, John called.

  As soon as I picked up I said, “I’m so sorry I missed your calls. The phone was set on vibrate and I didn’t know—”

  “You ignored me.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to explain. I didn’t ignore you, the phone was in my purse and I didn’t know it was on vibrate. It was in the very bottom—you wouldn’t believe the junk I have in there—and there was a lot of noise around me.” Not a lie. Three excited women do make quite a racket.

  I paused and held my breath.

  “I don’t believe you, Sara. You’re lying.”

  “I’m not. I swear. I wouldn’t do that to—”

  But he’d already hung up.

  * * *

  And that’s where it’s still at. My next call was from Billy, who was as close to pissed off as I’ve ever heard him sound.

  “How did this happen, Sara?”

  After we spoke for a minute or two his tone changed and he said I shouldn’t beat myself up—it was an accident. I’m pretty sure Sandy didn’t agree, though. She called as soon as I hung up from Billy, asking the same question. I told her I hadn’t ignored John on purpose and I think she believed me, eventually, but I could tell she was still angry. She said John’s cell had pinged off towers in Kamloops each time it connected with my phone, but he’d been staying in high-traffic areas. They pulled over a bunch of vehicles, running checks on anyone who looked suspicious, but they still didn’t have a suspect.

  Sandy told me they’d have a patrol car parked outside, just in case John decided to hop on a ferry and talk to me in person. When I asked if she actually thought he’d do anything, she said, in her tense voice, “We’ll find out soon, but if he is stupid enough to try something, we’ll get him.”

  But I haven’t heard from John since. Not once. I wish I could be happy about that.

  SESSION ELEVEN

  I can’t sit still right now. I have to keep moving, have to walk around. My legs ache with frustration, with the unbearable agony of waiting. It must be driving you nuts, my bouncing around your office. You should see me at home—I pace from window to window, pulling up blinds, dropping them back down. Sweep up dirt, only to abandon the half-filled dustpan in the corner. Put half the dishes into the dishwasher, then start doing laundry. I stuff my mouth with peanut-butter-laden crackers, then race upstairs to Google, find a thread of something on one site, and follow it from site to site until my eyes are blurry.

  Next I call Evan, who tells me to do some yoga, go to the gym, take Moose for a walk, but instead I pick fights with him over stupid stuff—because that makes so much more sense.

  I make notes, charts. I have graphs for my graphs. My desk is peppered with Post-its, rapid thoughts scrawled in a jerky hand. It’s not helping. I ignore work e-mails or barely answer. I’m trying to buy myself time on some projects, trying to hang on to it all, but I’m losing my grip on everything.

  * * *

  As soon as I got home after our last session, Billy and Sandy pulled into my driveway. When I opened the front door and saw their grave faces, my stomach flipped.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Let’s go inside,” Billy said.

  “Tell me what’s going on first.” I searched his eyes. “Is Ally—”

  “She’s fine.”

  “Evan—”

  “Your family’s all fine. Let’s go inside. Got some coffee?”

  After I handed them theirs I leaned against the counter, the hard edge biting into my back, my clammy hands curled around the warm mug. Billy took a gulp of coffee; Sandy didn’t touch hers. She’d spilled something on her white shirt and her hair was a mess. Dark circles shadowed her eyes.

  I said, “Did he kill someone?”

  Sandy looked at me hard. “A female camper was reported missing this morning from Greenstone Mountain Provincial Park near Kamloops. Her boyfriend was found dead at the scene.”

  I dropped my coffee mug. It shattered and I watched coffee splash up on Sandy’s jeans. But she didn’t even glance down, she was still staring at me. None of us moved to clean it up.

  My hands went to my face. “Oh, God. Are you sure? Maybe—”

  “He’s the main suspect,” Sandy said. “The shell casings found at the scene are consistent.”

  “This is my fault.”

  Billy said, “No, it’s not, Sara. He made the choice.” But Sandy didn’t say anything.

  “What are we going to do now? What about the girl?”

  He was quiet for a few seconds. “Right now we’re searching the surrounding area for the female victim’s body.”

  “You think she’s dead?”

  Neither of them answered.

  “What’s her name?”

  Billy said, “We haven’t released that to the media yet—”

  “I’m not the media. Tell me her name.”

  Billy looked at Sandy, who turned to me and said, “Danielle Sylvan. Her boyfriend was Alec Pantone.”

  My mind filled with images of a young woman fleeing through the bushes, John chasing after her with a rifle in his hands. I wondered when I’d get her doll.
br />   I stared down at the broken mug, the pool of coffee.

  “What color’s her hair?”

  They were both silent. I looked up. Dread passed over me.

  “What color is her hair?”

  Billy cleared his throat, but before he could say anything, Sandy told me.

  “Auburn—long and wavy.”

  The room spun. I gripped the back of the counter with my hands. Billy stood up and in one big step was at my side, clasping my shoulders.

  “You all right, Sara?”

  I shook my head.

  “Do you want to get some air?”

  “No.” I took a couple of breaths. “I’ll … I’ll be okay.”

  Billy leaned against the counter beside me. His arms were crossed in front of his chest and he massaged his biceps through his black windbreaker over and over. From across the table coils of anger radiated off Sandy.

  I turned to her. “You think it’s my fault.”

  She said, “It’s no one’s fault. He’s a killer, we never know what’s going to set him off.”

  “But he’s never killed this early before—never in May.”

  She stared at me. Her eyes were bloodshot and the pupils dilated, turning the cool blue almost black. Her skin looked windburned.

  I said, “You think because I didn’t answer his calls he went out and killed someone.”

  “We don’t know what—”

  “Just say it, Sandy—admit you think it’s my fault.”

  She gazed at me steadily. “Yes, I think having his calls ignored triggered him to find a victim. No, I don’t think it was your fault.”

  For a moment I felt victorious—I’d forced her to admit what she was really thinking—then the horror of the situation washed back over me.