Never Knowing (40 page)

I was still trying to figure out what to do when Ally said, “I’m
hungry
.”

As I searched through John’s provisions, a chill came over me every time I noticed some little detail about his life. He liked whole milk and white bread. He had junk food stored everywhere. He liked Orange Crush and Coffee Crisps. It was the last one that shook me up the most. They were my favorite. Finally I found some peanut butter and made Ally a sandwich.

Then I said, “Ally Cat, you’re going to have to wait here for me for a little bit while I go down to the river, okay?”

“No!” She started to cry.

“Ally, it’s
really
important. I won’t be long and you can hide in the camper if you—”

She started to scream, “
No, no, no, no!
” and dropped the sandwich as she threw herself at my knees. There was no way I could leave her, but I couldn’t let her see John’s body either.

We’d walked for over an hour when I finally heard a vehicle coming down the road. As I turned and spotted the white forestry truck, I waved my arms. The truck came to a stop beside us and a smiling old man rolled down the window.

“You ladies lost?”

I started to cry.

*   *   *

After the cops pulled John’s body out of the water and investigated the scene, they found his wallet under the seat of his truck. His name was Edward John McLean, and once they ran some checks on him they found out he was a blacksmith who traveled through the Interior. The blacksmith thing fits with the metal dolls, and Billy said the noises I’d heard in the background on some of the calls were probably horses. Since then they’ve found his trailer with all his tools parked at a motel near Nanaimo.

Sandy’s okay. She had a concussion and spent a couple of days at the hospital for observation—Evan and she were there at the same time. Right after I gave my statement the day I killed John, I made the cops take me straight to Evan. When the police told him Ally and I were missing, he wanted to hold off on his surgery, but the doctors said it was too risky to wait, so he had to go through with it. He was just waking up when Ally and I got to the hospital, and he cried at the sight of us.

Ally and I brought Sandy flowers. When Ally handed them to her and said, “Thanks for trying to save me,” Sandy looked like she was fighting hard not to cry. I thought she’d quiz me about everything that had happened with John, but she didn’t say anything, even when Ally told her about hiding in the cave. I’d gotten so used to Sandy always being fired up about something it was weird seeing her pale and looking depressed. She was probably unhappy she didn’t get to kill John herself.

Billy had already filled me in on how John was able to abduct Ally in the first place. He’d started a fire down the road in someone’s woodshed so the officer parked outside our house had to investigate. Then he hid his truck in our next-door neighbor’s driveway and doubled back through our yards. He was in our backyard, probably planning to break in, when Sandy turned the alarm off and opened the sliding glass door to let Moose out for a pee. John jumped her and she was down, though not without drawing her gun. He’d left the back gate open and Moose fled the scene—a neighbor found him later that day.

Ally was in her bedroom when the “bad man” came in and told her Sandy wanted him to take her to her mommy up at the hospital. Ally didn’t believe him at first, but he said Moose was already in the truck. That did it.

The cops weren’t impressed with me for taking off after Sandy was hurt, but there’s not much they can do about it now. I had to give a statement about killing John, though, and the Crown has to investigate, but Billy said there’s no way it won’t be ruled self-defense.

Evan also gave me hell for going after Ally myself and not waiting for the cops, but he let it go—I think he was pretty shook up by how close we all came to losing one another. He’s not the only one.

*   *   *

Guess I’m even more like my father than we thought. I know it was self-defense, but I still
killed
a man. And not just any man, my own father. I wonder how God will feel about that one. I’m still not sure how I feel about it myself. I think what scares me the most is not that I did it, but that I didn’t even hesitate.

SESSION TWENTY-THREE

I’m so frustrated right now. What pisses me off the most is that after our last session I was actually starting to feel good again. I was just so glad everything was over that life took on this euphoric cast. The media frenzy died down. Evan and I never fought, my child could do no wrong, I loved my family and every one of them loved me back. Food even tasted better. But the more normal things turn, the more things, well, turn back to normal.

*   *   *

This morning Melanie came over to pick up the song list Evan and I made for the wedding. I’d spent the weekend ripping apart the house trying to find the CD she gave me, to no avail, so we decided it was just easier to let Kyle do it than have a family war. Right now I’m all about easier. But then last night Evan found the CD—I’d managed to put it back in the wrong case after still not playing it. We listened to it and turns out they aren’t half bad, but the real standout was this woman singing in the background. Her voice was amazing, sort of Sara McLachlan meets Stevie Nicks.

When Melanie arrived I was in the backyard trying to water my pathetic attempt at a garden. We went inside and I gave her the list.

“On the CD there’s a woman in the background,” I said while her eyes scanned the page. “Do you know how to contact her?”

Her head jerked up. “Why?”

“I was hoping she’d sing at the wedding too.”

Melanie’s face flushed and she stared down at the CD.

I said, “Was that
you
?”

She looked up and her eyes flashed. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“Well, I am. You’ve never sung before—that I know of.”

She shrugged. “I sing at the pub sometimes.”

“You should totally pursue singing, Melanie. You could really be something.”

“Instead of
just
a bartender?”

“That’s not what I meant.” I remember the vow I made since my near-death: to be more patient and forgiving. “But I’m sorry if it came across like that. I just think you sound incredible. I’d love it if you sang at the wedding. Please?”

She looked at me, then shrugged.

“If you want. But not all the songs, because I still want to dance.”

“Thanks, that would be great.” We were quiet for a minute and I said, “So you want to stay for a coffee?”

She looked startled. “Sure.”

We took our mugs into the living room and sat on opposite couches, glancing at each other, taking a sip, then looking away. The silence built. Something had been bothering me recently that I wanted to ask her about, but I didn’t want to start a fight. Evan told me to let it go. I agreed with him at the time, but she was here now and we seemed to be getting along. I lasted another two seconds.

“Did you see the photos in the paper of my birth father?” She nodded. “You ever see him in the bar?”

She shook her head. “Why?”

“He just knew some stuff about Ally, and I was wondering—”

“
Unfuckingbelievable.
You
still
think I’m the one who told that Web site, and now you think I told a serial killer about
Ally
.” She set her coffee down with a crash and stood up.

“No! I just thought you might not have known who he was and—”

“You think I’m stupid enough to tell a stranger about my niece?”

“It has nothing to do with being
stupid
. He seemed like a nice guy and he might have been able to get stuff out of you without you even—”

“Believe it or not, Sara, when I’m working, I’m working—not chatting with freaks at the bar. But thanks for blaming me once again.”

“I’m not blaming you, Melanie. I’m just trying to tie up a loose end.”

She laughed as she picked up her coffee and walked to the kitchen.

I stood up and followed her. “Where are you going?”

“Somewhere people don’t accuse me of getting their kid abducted.” She set the mug on the counter with a thud.

“Melanie, you’re totally blowing this out of proportion. I didn’t—”

“You’re one to talk—you’re the freak-out
queen
.” She picked up her purse from the counter and walked out, slamming the door behind her.

*   *   *

I was still fuming when Billy called a half hour later. I thought once John was dead that would be that, but they’re still working backward to learn more about him—Billy said it helps them with other serial killers. They’ve found out quite a bit, but not what I’d expected, which was a basement full of corpses and stacks of porn tapes. His house was tidy, in a bachelor kind of way, and the only tapes he had were videos on hunting. But it doesn’t look like he spent much time there. He didn’t have anything personal around, no photos or keepsakes, and he slept in a sleeping bag on top of his mattress.

They tried to match some missing-women cases up to where John may have been during certain years—he lived a nomadic life—but nothing connected. People who’d hired him said he was pleasant enough and always had a joke at the ready. But he got in fights with a few customers over the years who he felt had “tricked” him out of his payments. We were right about one thing: he was known in most of the towns he’d called me from. He was also an avid gun collector and a member of a few gun clubs.

I said, “Did you find the one he used to shoot Evan?”

“The ballistic report said the shell casing recovered at the scene was from a Remington .223. It matched up with some found at other crime scenes, so we know he was shot from the same gun, but it wasn’t with John’s belongings. We’re checking with a few gun dealers, but I doubt we’ll ever find it. By the way, did you ever finish that cherry table you were working on? I saw one just like it at an antique store the other day that needs refinishing. Think you could look at it sometime and tell me what you think?”

“Sure, how much did they want?”

The rest of the call we talked about antiques, then Evan beeped in to ask me something, so I had to go. But later, when I was trying to clean up the shop, I remembered John telling me the Remington .223 was his favorite—and that it was being repaired. How did he shoot Evan with a gun he didn’t have?

*   *   *

The front door banged. Evan was home. While he packed his hockey bag with clothes to take to the lodge, I sat on the bed and told him about my morning, starting with the fight with Melanie.

“I can’t believe she acted like that when I asked her about John.”

“I told you to let it go.” He rummaged through his drawers, tossing socks into his bag with his good hand—his left arm was still in a sling.

“I just asked her a simple question.”

He glanced over his shoulder with his eyebrows raised.

“Sara, your questions are never simple.”

“I wish you weren’t going back to the lodge.”

“Me too. I have to get a ride up with Jason and he drives like an old man.” He laughed, but I glowered. “Baby, come on, I haven’t been up there in weeks and everything’s a mess. You said you wanted to get back to work too.”

“I tried after Melanie left, but then Billy called and I started obsessing again.”

“About what?

“Billy said the shell casing they found at your lodge was from John’s Remington .223, but they can’t find the gun. Then I was thinking about it later and John said that gun was getting repaired. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

“He probably had a couple of them and ditched one right after he shot me.”

“Maybe … but I got the feeling he really loved
that
gun. Why would anybody have two?”

“Well, no one else would’ve shot me.”

I paused for a moment. “You know, it’s weird that John only injured you. I got the impression he was a good shot—he never missed a victim before.”

“Baby, it was him.” Evan went into the walk-in closet, came out with a few pairs of jeans, shoved them in his bag.

“I know. Just saying the gun thing’s weird.… We still don’t know for sure he attacked Nadine—she wasn’t shot, which was totally John’s style, just hit in the back of the head. And she never saw who did it. I wonder if they ever followed up on any of her patients. Maybe I should talk to Billy and see what he thinks.”

“Sara, leave the guy alone.”

“What does
that
mean?”

“You must be driving the police nuts. The case is over but you’re still pestering them.” He went back into the closet and came out with another pair of jeans. “Where’s my Nike baseball cap—you were wearing it yesterday?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t believe you just said that. I’m not pestering them, I’m
helping
them. I have to tell Billy about the gun. They could match it up with an old case or something. What if John killed a woman they didn’t know about and her family’s been searching for her for years and—”

“Sara, you’re driving
me
nuts. I just packed six pairs of jeans and no shirts.”

“Fine. I’ll get out of your way, then.” I stood up.

“You don’t have to leave, just talk about something else.” But I was already walking out of the room.

*   *   *

I was staring at a table in my shop, thinking about everything Evan had said and working myself into a complete lather, when he came to find me.

He said, “I’m going.”

I studied the grains in the wood, traced them with my fingers.

“Come on,” he said.

He came over and wrapped his arms around me.

I was stiff in his arms. “I’m pissed at you.”

“I know, but give me a hug anyway.”

“I hate that you don’t take anything I say seriously.”

“That’s not true, Sara. I just wish you didn’t read so much into everything.”

“So you think I’m just overreacting?”

“Let’s see, you accused your sister of chatting up a serial killer and now you think someone else shot me for no reason? Hey, maybe it was
Melanie
who shot me.”