Never Knowing

  I turned to Billy. “How old were they?”

  “Alec was twenty-four and Danielle twenty-one.” Twenty-one. I thought of their parents getting the news and pressed the heels of my hands hard into my eyeballs.

  Block it out. Block it out.

  “What do we do now?”

  Billy said, “We’re not getting a signal from his cell phone, but just in case, we’d like you to try to call him again.” He took my cell off its charger on the counter and handed it to me.

  Before I started to dial I said, “How am I supposed to act?”

  Billy said, “Good question. You should have a plan before you—”

  Sandy said, “Just start off expressing how sorry you are, show lots of remorse, then gauge his reaction. Wait and see if he brings up anything, but don’t say you know about the woman. It won’t hit the news until tonight.”

  I glanced at Billy for confirmation and he nodded, but his neck was flushed. He didn’t look at Sandy and I wondered if he was pissed she had interrupted him.

  As I dialed John’s number Sandy’s hand curled into a fist on the table. Her nails were chewed to the quick. John’s phone was off.

  I shook my head.

  Sandy stood up. “We’re going to fly out to Kamloops this afternoon. Keep trying to reach him. We’ll call you if we learn anything further from the crime scene.”

  I walked them to the door. “She could still be alive?”

  Billy’s face was tense. “Of course, and we’ll try our best to find her.” But I saw it in their eyes—they were going to Kamloops to find a body.

  * * *

  That night I tossed and turned for hours, thinking about everything Sandy had said. My guilt segued into anger when I thought more about the police—why hadn’t they staked out all the parks? They knew he was in the area. But when I got out of bed and Googled, I learned the park was one hundred and twenty-four hectares. How were they ever going to find her? How were they going to find him?

  I called John several times, but his phone was never on. I thought of what I’d say if he did answer. Why did you do it? Did she die quickly? It was the second question that haunted me the most. I could taste Danielle’s fear. It gnawed at my skin, burrowed into my muscles, screamed in my head: You did this!

  Evan called that night after Ally was in bed and I cried through the entire phone call. I tried my best not to sound blaming, but it leaked out when I said, “You’d been giving me a hard time about checking my phone all the time, so I was trying to just relax and have fun like you said, and—”

  “I didn’t know he’d—”

  “I told you, but you kept saying I was worrying too much and now two people are dead.”

  “Sara, I was just trying to help you—you’re my priority, not him. And it’s awful what he did, but it’s not your fault. You do see that, right?”

  “If I’d answered the phone, they’d still be alive.”

  “And if you went back in time and killed Hitler, millions of—”

  “That’s not the same thing. I have no control over what happened then, but I could’ve stopped this.”

  “All of this is outside of your control, but you’re going to blame yourself no matter what.”

  “I wish you could understand why I’m so upset.”

  “I do—it’s horrible what happened, and you’re taking it even harder because you get so involved in everything. But it stresses me out when you get yourself all worked up. You have to try to step back a little.”

  “It’s not that simple, Evan. I can’t just close my eyes to everything like you.” I flinched at my harsh tone. Then waited out the silence that followed. Finally Evan broke it.

  “I’m not the bad guy here.”

  I groaned. “I’m sorry. This is just so awful and I miss you.”

  “I miss you too—I’m coming home this weekend, okay?”

  “I thought you have a big group.”

  “I’ll call Jason in. You need me right now.”

  “God, Evan. I want to tell you to stay, but I really do need you.” I rubbed my nose on my sleeve. “I keep seeing her face, you know, seeing her having fun with her boyfriend. Then John’s there—with a gun, and she’s watching her boyfriend get shot, then she runs away, and…” I was crying again now, trying to get my breath.

  “Baby…” Evan sounded helpless. “You’ve got to stop thinking about stuff like that, please.”

  “I can’t help it. I think about what if it was you, then I just—”

  “Mommy?” Ally was at the top of the stairs.

  I cleared my throat and tried to keep my voice pleasant.

  “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

  “I can’t sleep.”

  “I’ll be up in a minute.”

  Evan and I said our good-byes, then I washed my face in cold water, hoping Ally wouldn’t notice my puffy eyes. As I cuddled in bed with her, Moose at our feet, I stroked her hair and gently tickled her back. Then I thought of another mother out there who just found out her daughter was missing. I wondered what she did to soothe her to sleep when she was little. I wondered what this woman would think if she knew her daughter was gone because my cell was on vibrate.

  * * *

  When Ally drifted off, I eased out of her bed. Moose’s head popped up, but I motioned for him to stay and he dropped it back onto Ally’s Barbie quilt. In my office I pulled up Google and typed in “Danielle Sylvan.” I hoped there wouldn’t be anything, but I found an article in the paper where she’d volunteered for a literacy program. The photo of her face beaming as she held out an armful of books to some children just about killed me. The deep red of her hair was vibrant against her pale skin. I imagined that skin even paler in death, and my stomach flipped. I sent the article to Billy, knowing he had a BlackBerry and would get it instantly. My message said, Did you find her? I waited and waited—hitting send/receive every second. Finally, ten minutes later, he answered: Not yet.

  I turned off the computer and climbed into bed, cell on the night table. I tossed and turned for hours.

  It’s your fault, all your fault. Your fault.

  * * *

  The next morning Ally was cranky: “I don’t want to wear my raincoat.” “I want to wear the blue socks, no, the yellow ones.” “When will Evan be home?” “Why can’t Moose come?” “I’m tired of cereal.” Finally I got her dressed and we were on our way. We were a mile from her school when my cell rang in my purse. Ally, who was singing in her seat and moving her head back in forth in time with the windshield wipers, began to sing louder. I reached into the console and grabbed my cell. As soon as I saw John’s number, I panicked.

  “Ally Cat, this is an important client, so you have to be quiet, okay?”

  She kept singing.

  I raised my voice as the phone rang again. “Ally, that’s enough.”

  She looked at me. “You’re not supposed to answer the phone while you’re driving, Mommy—it’s not safe.”

  “You’re right, that’s why Mommy’s pulling over.” I quickly turned onto the soft shoulder of the road and stopped the Cherokee. “He really needs my help, so you have to be super quiet, okay?” Rain thundered down on us as Ally stared out the window, drawing shapes in the condensation. She was pissed at me, but at least she was quiet.

  I answered the phone in a rush. “Hello?”

  “Sara.” His voice was low and raspy. Like he’d been yelling.

  I said, “I’m really sorry about what happened. I made a mistake, but it won’t happen again, okay? I promise.”

  I held my breath and braced for a barrage, but he was silent.

  So Ally couldn’t hear, I turned to the window and lowered my voice. “John, there was something about a missing woman on the news last night?”

  He was still silent. In the background I could hear traffic, but there was another sound—a persistent thump. I strained my ears. Beside me Ally’s legs started to kick. Still waiting for John to answer, I flipped open the glove box and found a no
tepad and a pen. As I handed it to Ally, I motioned for her to draw me a picture. She ignored the pad and crossed her arms over her chest. I gave a warning look, and she stared out the window.

  I said, “Are you still there?” The thump in the background was louder.

  “You shouldn’t have ignored me. I needed you.”

  “I’m sorry. But I’m here now. Can you tell me where she is?”

  His voice was flat. “She’s with me.”

  Hope surged—until I realized he didn’t say she was alive.

  “Is she okay?”

  Beside me Ally kicked at the dashboard. I grabbed her foot and gave another warning look. She pulled her foot out of my hand and started bouncing up and down in her seat. I clamped my hand down on the phone’s speaker. “Ally, stop it this minute or—or you’re not going to Meghan’s sleepover on Sunday.” Ally gave a shocked gasp and sat back in her seat.

  On the phone John said, “I don’t know what to do.”

  I had to say something fast. Think, Sara, think. He depersonalizes them. He doesn’t want to think of them as people. Make her real.

  “The news said her name is Danielle. She has people who really care about her, John. Her parents, they just want her home, and—”

  “I wanted you. The noise was getting bad—nothing was working. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

  I glanced at Ally. She was drawing on the window again.

  “Well, you can talk to me now, so you can let her go home, okay?”

  His voice was flat. “It’s not that simple.” I cringed as I remembered saying the same thing to Evan.

  “It is—you can do it. I know you can. You just have to take a step back and think about it for a minute.” The thumping stopped in the background. Was it Danielle? Had she passed out?

  The rain had eased. Ally was still drawing on the window. I covered the speaker on the phone and said, “I’m just stepping outside for a minute, honey.”

  Her eyes were wide. “Mommy, no. Don’t leave—”

  “I’ll be right here.” I opened the door and stood at the side of the road, smiling at Ally through the window as I said to John, “You could blindfold her, then drive somewhere and just leave her on the side of the road.” In the vehicle Ally’s face was pinched. I drew little faces on the window. She unbuckled herself and crawled onto my seat. She started to smile as she drew teeth on my happy face.

  John said, “It won’t work.”

  It was starting to rain harder again. I was getting soaked as cars passed me.

  “It will. By the time someone finds her you’ll be long gone. They’ll never catch you.”

  “This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.” A loud smack, like he’d punched a wall.

  “Are you okay?” All I could hear was heavy breathing. I tried a different tactic. “I know you don’t really want to hurt Danielle. I saw pictures of her on TV and she looked just like me. She’s someone’s daughter—you have to let her go.”

  Silence.

  “John?”

  A click, then a dial tone.

  * * *

  I climbed back into the Cherokee and cranked the heat while I watched my windshield wipers swish back and forth. The cell phone was hot in my hand. Beside me Ally was saying something, but I couldn’t think straight. Was he killing her right now? Did I say something wrong? I should have—

  “Mom! I’m going to be late for school.”

  The phone was ringing again. “I know, sweetie, I’m sorry. Mommy just has to take this, then we’ll get going, okay?” She groaned beside me. I gave her a little smile, but my heart raced as I glanced down at the phone. It was Billy. I let out my breath. Ally was kicking at the dashboard and singing again, but this time I didn’t try to stop her.

  “Billy, thank God.”

  “We got a good signal off the call.” His voice was clipped. “He’s in Kamloops and we’re doing a sweep of the area—every available officer is on the road. But I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

  “She’s alive—I know it.”

  I heard voices in the background, then Sandy was on the phone.

  “If he calls again you have to try to keep him on the line as long as possible. Let him do the talking. If by any chance he hasn’t killed her, we want to keep it that way.”

  “But what do I say? I’m scared I’ll say something wrong and he’ll—”

  “Just proceed cautiously.”

  “What does that mean? Do I ask about her or not?”

  Sandy sighed. “Just stay calm when you’re talking to him. He needs to hear you care about him, that you’re interested in him, that you’re sorry. He probably felt rejected when you ignored his calls—”

  “I didn’t ignore—”

  “Sara, do you really want to argue over semantics? A woman’s life may depend on this next call. What are you doing right now?”

  I gritted my teeth against all the ways I wanted to tell her off and simply said, “I have to drive Ally to school.”

  “She’s with you?” Her voice rose.

  “I was driving her to school, but he didn’t hear her.”

  “If he finds out you never told him you have a child—”

  “I don’t want that either, Sandy—she’s my first priority. And right now she’s late for school.”

  “Drop her off, then call us.”

  I bit out, “Fine.”

  As I pulled back on the road Ally said, “Is the woman okay, Mommy?”

  Still going over Sandy’s call in my head, I said, “What woman, honey?”

  “The one you were talking about with your client. You said she was missing.”

  Crap, crap, crap.

  I tried to think back over what she might have heard. “Oh, she just got a little lost when she was walking home. But the police are going to find her soon.”

  “I don’t like it when you talk on the phone so much.”

  “I know, honey. And I really appreciate how good you were.”

  She stared out the window.

  * * *

  In front of the school I got out and gave Ally a hug and a kiss. Her shoulders were slumped and her little face pinched. I pulled back and looked her in the eyes.

  “Ally Cat, I know I haven’t been the best mommy lately, but I promise I’ll try harder, okay? This weekend Evan’s coming home and we’ll do something as a family.”

  “With Moose too?”

  “Of course!” I was relieved this earned a small smile at least. As Ally started to run to the doors of the school, she stopped and turned. “I hope the police find the lady who’s lost, Mommy.”

  Me too.

  As soon as I got home I called Billy. “What do you want me to do?”

  “If he phones again, just remember what Sandy said, stay calm and let him talk. Don’t forget he’s calling because he’s trying to reach out. He’s in a highly emotional state and you seem to be the one person he feels can help him. He’ll probably call soon.”

  But he didn’t. I paced around my house, then tried to work in my shop but couldn’t focus. So I drank countless cups of coffee—which didn’t exactly help take the edge off—and spent hours Googling serial killers, hostage negotiation, all the while thinking about what could be happening to Danielle. I e-mailed Web page after Web page to Billy, feeling calmer each time I sent something and each time he answered, even if it was just a quick message: You’re doing great, keep them coming. Then I thought about John, about how he said he couldn’t wait any longer, the pressure just built until he had to do something. The sudden realization that I understood exactly how he felt scared me more than anything.

  * * *

  Later that evening Ally and I were just sitting down to dinner when my cell rang. It was John.

  Ally made a face as I got up from the table.

  “I’ll just be a minute, sweetie. If you finish all your dinner we’ll watch a movie together after, okay? But you have to promise to be quiet as a mouse.”

  She sighed but no
dded and dug her spoon into her mashed potatoes.

  I raced into the other room and answered the phone.

  “John, I’m really glad you called back. I was worried.” I was still worried. I didn’t know if he was calling for help, or to tell me it was too late.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Is Danielle okay?”

  “She won’t stop crying.” The frustration in his voice terrified me.

  “It’s not too late. You can let her go. For me, please. She didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one who messed up.” I held my breath.

  He was quiet.

  I said, “Can I talk to her?”

  “That wouldn’t be good for you.” His tone was parental. A father telling his daughter she can’t have another cookie.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” He sounded frustrated again.

  “You don’t have to do anything right now. Do you want to talk for a little bit? You asked me what I like to eat the other day. I was wondering what kind of stuff you like. Are you allergic to anything?”

  “No, but I don’t like olives?” His voice rose at the end.

  “I’m not a fan of them either—or liver.”

  He made a disgusted noise. “Liver is the body’s filtration system.”

  “Exactly.” I laughed, but it sounded hollow. “John, the other day you said the noise was getting bad. What did you mean? Is it bad now?” If I could figure out what the problem was, maybe I could use it to make him let Danielle go.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Okay, no problem. I just wondered if it’s something you can get help for.”

  “I don’t need help.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought if you talked to me about it, maybe I could help.”

  “This conversation isn’t going anywhere.” He sounded exasperated. “I’ll call you another time.”

  “Wait, what about Danielle—”

  But he was gone.

  * * *

  I threw the cell onto the couch and put my head in my hands. The phone rang a minute later. I looked at the call display. It was Billy.