Stevens Chevy - Never Knowing

“Did something go wrong?”

“You can drop the act, Sandy. I saw you leave her house.”

She was silent.

“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.