Stevens Chevy - Never Knowing

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.

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.

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.

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—”