“Come on in. Where’s Sandy?”
“Coordinating with some of the other departments involved in the investigation.”
“And you’re in charge of me?”
He grinned. “Something like that.” He followed me to the kitchen, sniffing the air. “Is that coffee?”
“Can I pour you one?”
“Sit, I’ll get it.”
I collapsed at the kitchen table. Billy tossed his suit jacket over the back of a chair, then made himself at home in my kitchen, getting a mug out of the cupboard, opening the fridge for milk. He stopped and stared.
“What?”
“Your fridge is as bad as mine. Don’t you have anything to eat?”
“Are you raiding my refrigerator?”
“Trying to, but I think I just saw a tumbleweed go by. You need to go shopping ASAP.”
“I’ve had a few things on my mind.”
Billy closed the fridge and started making peanut butter sandwiches. He glanced over his shoulder. “Want one?”
I shook my head, but he took out two more slices of bread.
I said, “What do you mean, as bad as yours? Aren’t you married?”
“No sirree, Bob. I’m divorced. My ex is still back in Halifax.” That explained the East Coast accent I caught in his voice.
He let Moose outside, then sat at the table. He handed me a sandwich as he took a huge bite of his. His eyes rolled back.
“Man, that hits the spot.” He took a swill of his coffee and watched me as I nibbled my sandwich. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks a lot.”
He grinned, then his face turned serious.
“How you holding up? This is some heavy stuff you’ve got going on here.”
“I’m doing all right. But I’m putting in some serious couch time with my psychiatrist. Can I send the RCMP my receipts?” I smiled.
“There are resources you can apply for through the Victims of Crime Act. I’ll get you the forms. But I’m glad you’re talking to someone, Sara. This is a lot to deal with.”
“I just feel like it’s all on me, you know? I want to help, but most of all I just want this all to go away—I want my life back.”
“The sooner we catch him, the sooner that will happen. You did great last night.”
“I don’t know, Billy, I thought maybe I pushed too hard.”
“You backed off at the right time. ‘To a surrounded enemy, you must leave an escape.’”
“Huh?”
“It’s from The Art of War by Sun Tzu.”
I started to laugh. “Isn’t that from that movie with Michael Douglas?”
He shook his head. “Wall Street. I know, I know, I’m a cop cliché.” He smiled. “Sandy gives me a hard time about it too. In my defense, it’s the most successful book on military strategy ever written.”
“I’m not in the military!”
He laughed. “You don’t have to be. It’s just about strategy and applies to lots of things in life. I don’t go anywhere without a copy. You should check it out. It’ll help you deal with John.”
“It’s just so weird.”
“What’s weird?”
“Talking to him. In that one conversation he asked me more about my work than my real dad ever has.” I caught myself. “I guess he’s my real dad—I meant my adopted dad.”
Billy set his sandwich down and leaned forward, his eyes intense.
“Most killers don’t seem like killers, Sara. That’s what makes them so dangerous. You have to be careful not to—”
A tap on the sliding glass door sent our bodies jerking back in their seats. I spun around. Melanie was standing at the door with Moose in her arms. She must’ve come through the side gate. Billy was on his feet, his hand hovering near his sidearm.
“It’s my sister.”
His hand dropped. Melanie slid open the door and strolled in.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Her smirk said it all. I knew my face was red, but I shot her an as-if look.
“Melanie, this is Billy. He’s…”
Billy jumped in. “Sara’s going to restore some furniture for me.”
“I see.” She leaned against the counter and reached for the jar of peanut butter. She stuck her finger into the jar and brought it to her mouth. As she licked the peanut butter off, she said, “What’s with the gun, Billy?”
Billy just grinned. “I’m an RCMP officer, so you better be nice to me.”
Melanie’s face said she’d love to be very nice to him.
I said, “We were just wrapping up. I’ll walk you out, Billy. Melanie, grab a cup of coffee.” She nodded, but her eyes were on Billy.
Outside, I said, “Sorry about that, my sister…” I shook my head. “We don’t get along—like at all.”
He grinned and shrugged. “No biggie. Just stick with the cover and it should be fine.” His face turned serious. “When John calls again, remember he doesn’t really care about you, Sara. This is a man who takes what he wants, and he thinks you belong to him.”
* * *
Melanie was waiting by the front door. “Evan know you’re hanging out with hot cops?”
“He knows about all my clients. What are you doing here, Melanie?”
“I’m not allowed to come visit my big sister?”
She sauntered into the living room and sprawled on the couch. Moose hurled himself on top of her and licked her face as she scratched his head. Traitor.
“I have to get back to work. What’s up?” I remembered my cell was on the kitchen table. Please don’t let John call.
“Dad wants us to talk before Brandon’s birthday party on Saturday. He said we have to get along. Mom’s not feeling well.” Her chin jutted out at an angry slant. With everything happening I forgot Lauren was having a party for Brandon, and I hated to hear Mom was sick again, but I wasn’t about to share either fact.
I waited her out.
She said, “I never told that Web site your real father’s a serial killer, you know.”
“I didn’t really think you did—I was just upset.”
“Yeah, right.”
I sighed. “I didn’t, Melanie.” Her face was stony and I knew there was no way I could ask if she’d told her boyfriend—she’d take my head off. “Just tell Dad we worked everything out.”
“Sure. If that’s how you want to play it.”
“I’m not playing.” I wanted her out of the house fast. “I believe you. I do, okay? I’m sorry I overreacted.”
Her eyes narrowed.
I said, “So how’s Kyle?”
She was watching me. I forced myself to keep an interested look on my face.
“He just got a regular gig at the pub.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
We stared at each other.
I said, “So … listen, I haven’t had a chance to talk to Evan about Kyle playing at the wedding, but I will when he gets home.”
Melanie sat straight up on the couch. “What’s going on?”
“I’m just trying to get along with you, okay?”
“Why?”
“Because we’re sisters.”
“You’re never this nice. Are you worried I’m going to tell Evan about the cop?”
I stared at her. My hands itched to smack the smirk off her face.
Don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait.
I said, “I really should get back out to the shop.”
She stood up. “Don’t worry, I’m going. So when are we supposed to do this bridesmaid-dress-shopping thing?” Lauren and Melanie are my bridesmaids and Evan’s two younger brothers are his best men. Lauren and I have been talking about a shopping trip for a while, but I put it off because of John and because I dread having to deal with Melanie’s attitude. Every fiber of my being wants to tell her she isn’t in the wedding party anymore, but I know that’s exactly what she wants.
“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “I’ll let you know as soon as possi
ble.”
“Whatever.”
I stood up and followed her out of the living room but stopped near the door to the garage. She was almost through the kitchen and at the sliding glass door where she’d left her shoes when the cell rang on the table. She paused and turned around.
I lunged toward the phone, almost knocking a chair over.
A number I didn’t recognize. It had to be John.
Melanie was staring at me, one eyebrow raised.
“I’m waiting for a call from a client, but it’s just one of those stupid 800 numbers.” I shrugged.
She gave me a funny look. “Okay…”
I forced my face into a neutral expression.
She was slowly sliding the door open. The phone was still ringing. My heart fluttered in my chest. Melanie glanced over her shoulder. I smiled and gave a little wave. She was still looking at me. Walk away, walk away. Finally she turned around.
When she was past the window, I answered the phone in a breathless rush. “Hello?”
“What took you so long?” His voice was annoyed.
“I was in the bathroom.”
“I told you I need you to keep the phone with you at all times.”
“I’m doing my best, John.”
He sighed. “Sorry, I’ve had a hard day.”
“That’s too bad.” It almost killed me to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but I still ended up sounding abrupt. I walked to the front window and watched Melanie drive off. For a moment I wondered what she would do in my situation. Probably just tell John to screw off.
“Some people I work with, they think they’re better than me.”
“Where do you work?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Can you tell me what you do?”
He paused. “Not yet. So what kind of things do you like to do for fun?”
My body tensed. “Why?”
“I’m just trying to get to know you better.” His tone picked up. “I like being outdoors.”
“Yeah? Like camping and stuff?” I couldn’t bring myself to ask if he liked to hunt. I thought he’d pick up on my lack of genuine interest, but his voice was cheerful when he answered.
“I camp all over—spots most people are scared to go. There’s not too much of BC I haven’t seen. You could drop me at the top of a mountain and I’d still find my way out. But I stick to land.”
I racked my brain for something to say. “Why’s that?”
“I can’t swim.” He laughed. “Do you like camping?”
“Sometimes.”
John’s tone flattened. “Do you go with your boyfriend?”
I hesitated for a moment. Was it better he knew about Evan? He’d think I have protection living with me. “He’s my fiancé.”
“What is his name?”
I hesitated again. I hated the idea of him having Evan’s name, but what if he already knew? “Evan.”
“When are you getting married?” A hint of something in his voice.
Time stretched out as I tried to think how to answer.
“Um, we’re not sure yet, still trying to work all that out.…”
“I have to go.” He hung up.
* * *
I called Billy right away. This time John was somewhere between Prince George and Quesnel, which is even farther north of Williams Lake. As soon as he was done talking to me, he turned the phone off and essentially vanished. He could be standing right behind a cop and still they wouldn’t be able to get his exact location, only a general area. Billy assured me John was going to slip up soon, but when he said it again I wondered who he was trying to convince.
It doesn’t help that we don’t know what kind of truck he’s driving—everyone has a truck in the Interior—or whether he’s changed his appearance. I asked about roadblocks, but Billy said it’s a waste of resources unless they can pinpoint his exact location. Their best bet is to keep showing his photo around and talking to the locals. At least everyone usually knows everyone in rural locations. The police are also working with conservation officers, so they can stop hunters or anyone driving on the Forest Service roads. Hopefully they get a lead soon, because I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.
I wonder what he does after our talks. Does he go home and make himself a nice dinner, then sit in front of the TV and laugh at sitcoms while he cleans his guns? Maybe he stops at the pub and orders a hamburger and beer, bragging to the waitress about his daughter like a typical father. Does he go over and over our phone call like I do, or forget all about it like I wish I could?
SESSION EIGHT
I am trying to calm down. But I don’t know where to start. I’m just sick with worry. Not to mention tired and hungry, I have so much going on right now I shouldn’t even be here, but I didn’t want to cancel again. I know I’m talking too fast, my blood sugar’s crashing, which is why I’m forcing myself to eat this disgusting granola bar I found in my glove box. Fine, I’ll slow down and start at the beginning.
After our last session I tried that technique you gave me for staying in the present. I sat on our couch and closed my eyes, using all my senses to focus on the smooth fabric under my hands, the dryer thumping in the background, the cool hardwood under my bare feet, but my mind always went back to John. He hadn’t called for three days and I was working really hard on reminding myself I have zero control over what he does. But I couldn’t stop thinking about how he hung up so abruptly. Wondering if it was because I’d mentioned Evan, wondering if he sensed I lied when I told him we didn’t have a wedding date yet, wondering what he might do.
Thank God Evan came home for the weekend. No matter how bad I’m freaking out, he can usually bring me back to some semblance of calm, or at least to the point where I’m not hyperventilating. Before we went to Lauren’s for Brandon’s birthday we had a talk about how to handle it if John called, and I was feeling better about the whole deal. I was even kind of looking forward to the party. I’ve always had a soft spot for Brandon and couldn’t believe he was already turning ten. I’d practiced changing diapers on him. Not that my trial-and-errors with him helped when it came to dealing with a strong-willed little girl.
Just trying to take Ally shopping for a present was insane. First she had to walk up and down every aisle. Then we finally settled on a Nintendo game, but she wouldn’t stop looking at the ones still on the shelf. “Maybe he’d like hockey better, Mommy.” I said Brandon would be happy with any of them, but she started picking up one after another again. When I finally snapped and grabbed the one she’d already picked, she screamed, “It’s the wrong one, Mommy!” like her life depended on it. Then she stood in the middle of the aisle, her arms crossed in front of her, and refused to budge no matter what I said. At the end of my rope, I said, “Fine, you can just stay here all day,” and started walking away. After a moment she followed along behind, her little shoulders slumped and her lips tight as she struggled not to cry.
A few miles down the road she was still staring out the passenger window. Now that I was calmer, I felt bad for rushing her and said, “Brandon’s going to be so excited when he sees your present.” She still wouldn’t look at me, so I started singing along to the radio, making up my own words. “Sugar pie, Ally Cat, you know I love you. I can’t help myself, I love you and nobody else, except for Evan, and Moose, and Nana, and Auntie Lauren, and—” I sucked in a big breath of air. The corner of Ally’s lips twitched as she tried not to laugh. I started singing louder. By the time we picked up Evan, she was also singing—in between giggles, which got me laughing too. Then she tilted her head to one side, smiled at me, and said, “You’re so pretty, Mommy.” God, I love that kid.
We were still having fun when we pulled into Lauren and Greg’s driveway. This year the party was a Transformers theme, so I knew the whole house would be decorated top to bottom, and they had all kinds of games for the kids. I probably would’ve had a great time if both my fathers hadn’t ruined it for me.
* * *
/> Dad was getting a case of beer from his truck when we got out of the Cherokee. As Ally ran ahead with Moose to find the boys, I followed my father and Evan to the backyard while they talked fishing. Greg hovered over a gas grill, apron tied around his neck. He grinned at the sight of us. A big teddy bear of a man, he pulled me, then Evan, in for a rough hug. After he released us he opened a cooler near his feet and handed Evan a beer. Judging by Greg’s rosy cheeks he’d already helped himself to a couple.
“You want anything, Sara?”
“I’ll grab a coffee inside, thanks.”
In the kitchen, Lauren was dumping chips into a bowl while Mom finished up the dishes. Lauren has a dishwasher, but Mom won’t use one. She doesn’t think they get dishes clean enough.
“Can I help with anything?” I said.
Lauren turned around with a smile and blew a wisp of blond hair off her face.
“I think we’re okay for the moment.”
I gave Mom a kiss on the cheek, noticing her face seemed thinner since I last saw her. She smiled, but her eyes were tired and she’d definitely lost weight. I poured myself a cup of coffee and felt my good mood slipping away.
As I took my first sip I spotted Melanie and Kyle coming around the side of the house. Dad barely acknowledged Kyle, who was dressed in skinny black jeans and a tight black T-shirt, before turning back to his conversation with Evan.
Lauren came up behind me and rested her chin on my shoulder. We watched the men for a moment. Greg was telling a story—beer in one hand, tongs in the other. Evan and Melanie laughed when he finished. Greg’s eyes darted to Dad to see if he was laughing too—he wasn’t.
I said, “Beer and logging. Greg’s two favorite subjects.”
“Be nice.” Lauren poked my back.
* * *
While the kids dove into the food at their table, the adults settled around the log picnic table Greg built. I was just taking my first bite of burger when my cell rang in my pocket. I pulled it out and casually glanced at the call display. Another strange number. It had to be John.
It rang again. As I stood up, everyone around the picnic table stopped talking. The only sound was from the kids’ table.
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