Stevens Chevy - Never Knowing

“We had about ten acres at the base of a mountain.” His voice sounded excited. “Neighbors would bring sick animals to my mom all the time. She only used natural medicines, comfrey for coughs, things like that. She’d keep chicks and kittens in her shirt to keep them warm and she could almost bring them back from the dead.” He gave a happy laugh. “We had a lot of farm dogs when I was growing up, they were always having puppies. The smallest one, Angel, was mine. She was part husky and part wolf — I hand-reared her with a bottle. She went everywhere with me.…” His voice turned flat. “But she ran away. My mother said it was in her nature. I tried to find her but never could.” “I’m … I’m sorry.”

“I’m glad I found you, Sara. Good night.”

I stayed awake for hours.

I hoped I’d feel better after talking to you. But I’m beginning to think nothing is going to do that. I’m also beginning to think they’re never going to catch John. The second call came from north of Mackenzie, near Chetwynd, which is in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. They thought they had something when a local rancher reported a truck on the side of the road, but it turned out to be just a couple of hunters. I marked a map with all the spots John had called from, each one taking him farther away from me physically but deeper into my mind, skewing my perceptions, like someone was turning me sideways and making everything look different, feel different.

I’m sure it makes sense to you that I’d be off-kilter, all things considered, but it feels deeper than that. More of a core upheaval. Like those volcanoes that have been brewing for years, then one day they just explode . I’m not saying I’m going to explode, although it’s possible, just that it feels like something big has burst inside. Maybe because for so many years I’ve used the fact that I had real parents out there somewhere in the world as a way of comforting myself over anything I didn’t like about my family.

It’s like thinking you were handed the wrong life and you just had to get to the right one and everything would be okay, then finding out that there isn’t a right one. Or the right one was actually the wrong one after all, or — never mind, you know what I mean. But then I think about my temper, my urges to lash out with tongue or fist, I think about Ally’s tantrums, the line we both cross sometimes when we lose control, and I wonder if we do belong in that other life, with that other family.

When I first told you I found my mother, I said it was like standing on cracking ice. This is like falling straight through into the freezing water. You struggle back to the surface, your lungs burning, everything focused on that patch of light above you. And you finally make it there, but the hole’s frozen over.

I’ve never been so scared in my life. I still can’t believe I actually thought I was in the driver’s seat with John. I’m such an idiot . You warned me about getting overconfident. Did I really think just because he asked me about my tools and my work, because he told me about his dog, that I had any control over him? He has all the power, and do you know why he has the power? Because I’m terrified of him and he knows it.

The day after our last session another box was delivered. I knew I should wait until Sandy and Billy opened it, but I wanted to know if he’d sent me another tool, wondering for a moment why it mattered, then brushing off the thought. This box was smaller and lighter than the one the jack plane had arrived in. I gave it a little shake but didn’t hear anything. After I found some gloves, I carefully sliced open the package and lifted out a smaller box from inside. What if it was another victim’s jewelry? I debated for half a second about calling Billy, then lifted the lid off the box.

A small rustic metal doll, maybe four inches tall and a couple of inches wide at the shoulders, lay nestled in cotton batting. The body seemed to be made from some sort of dark, heavy metal, like iron or steel. Its arms and legs were thick and straight down like a toy soldier’s. The feet and hands were just round metal balls. It was wearing a little denim skirt and a yellow T-shirt. The clothes were delicate, the stitching intricate. The head of the doll was also a round ball of metal. But it had no face. No mouth or eyes.

Long straight brown hair, parted in the middle, was attached to the top of the head. Faint traces of glue were visible through the strands, but you had to look closely. Why had John sent this? I looked back in the main box to see if he’d included a note, but it was empty. I looked back at the doll again. Marveled at the clothes, the hair.

The hair.

I put the doll back in the box and called Billy. He and Sandy were at my house twenty minutes later — I was waiting in the driveway, pacing back and forth with Moose in my arms, when Billy stepped out of the driver’s side of the SUV.

“It’s in the kitchen,” I said.

“You okay?”

“I’m freaking out .”

“We’ll get it out of here as soon as possible.” He gave my shoulder a quick squeeze and scratched the top of Moose’s head.

Sandy’s first words as she exited the SUV were “I thought we agreed you would contact us the next time a package arrived.”

“I changed my mind.” I headed toward the house.

“Sara, this is an investigation.” She was following close on my heels as we reached the front steps.

“I know what it is.” I fought the urge to close the door in her face as I walked into the house.

“You could damage evidence.”

I spun around. “I wore gloves .”

“That still doesn’t—”

Billy said, “Come on, Sandy. Let’s have a look.” She brushed past and headed straight to the kitchen. Billy shook a scolding finger at me behind her back. I gave a couldn’t-help-it shrug. He smiled, then focused in on the box.

Sandy set a soft briefcase on the kitchen counter, took out some gloves, and handed Billy a pair. Their backs were to me as they examined the box. A minute crawled by, then Sandy lifted the smaller jewelry box out and gently took off the lid.

I said, “It’s real hair, isn’t it? Do you think it’s from one of the victims?”

Neither of them turned around. Sandy put up a hand. “Sshhh…”

If I didn’t already dislike her, that would have sealed the deal.

Finally, after a few moments that felt like hours, she murmured something to Billy. He nodded. Sandy slid the jewelry box into a plastic bag while Billy bagged the larger box.

Sandy turned and said, “We’re going to take this back to the station.”

“So the hair’s from one of the girls?”

“We won’t know anything conclusive until the lab runs some tests.” She walked past me with the evidence bag. “We’ll be in touch.” She stopped with her hand on the front door handle and frowned at Billy, who was still in the kitchen. “Let’s go, Billy.” “Right behind you.”

She gave him another look and went outside.

I turned to Billy. “What’s her problem?”

“She’s just frustrated because none of the leads are going anywhere.”

“You don’t seem frustrated.”

“I have moments, but I stay focused. I’m building the case brick by brick. If one falls out, I move on to the next. But I look for the right brick — if I shove them together without making sure each one fits, the structure’s going to collapse. Even after we catch John, there’s still a trial. That’s why it’s important to be patient.” He gave me a stern look. “We can’t risk losing trace evidence or contaminating it with a fiber from your clothes. One mistake and he gets away forever. Trust me, it’s happened.” “I get it. I shouldn’t have opened the box.”