Never Knowing

Why did you do it? Did she die quickly? It was the second question that haunted me the most. I could taste Danielle’s fear. It gnawed at my skin, burrowed into my muscles, screamed in my head: You did this!

Evan called that night after Ally was in bed and I cried through the entire phone call. I tried my best not to sound blaming, but it leaked out when I said, “You’d been giving me a hard time about checking my phone all the time, so I was trying to just relax and have fun like you said, and—” “I didn’t know he’d—”

“I told you, but you kept saying I was worrying too much and now two people are dead.”

“Sara, I was just trying to help you — you’re my priority, not him. And it’s awful what he did, but it’s not your fault. You do see that, right?”

“If I’d answered the phone, they’d still be alive.”

“And if you went back in time and killed Hitler, millions of—”

“That’s not the same thing. I have no control over what happened then, but I could’ve stopped this.”

“All of this is outside of your control, but you’re going to blame yourself no matter what.”

“I wish you could understand why I’m so upset.”

“I do — it’s horrible what happened, and you’re taking it even harder because you get so involved in everything. But it stresses me out when you get yourself all worked up. You have to try to step back a little.” “It’s not that simple, Evan. I can’t just close my eyes to everything like you.” I flinched at my harsh tone. Then waited out the silence that followed. Finally Evan broke it.

“I’m not the bad guy here.”

I groaned. “I’m sorry. This is just so awful and I miss you.”

“I miss you too — I’m coming home this weekend, okay?”

“I thought you have a big group.”

“I’ll call Jason in. You need me right now.”

“God, Evan. I want to tell you to stay, but I really do need you.” I rubbed my nose on my sleeve. “I keep seeing her face, you know, seeing her having fun with her boyfriend. Then John’s there — with a gun, and she’s watching her boyfriend get shot, then she runs away, and…” I was crying again now, trying to get my breath.

“Baby…” Evan sounded helpless. “You’ve got to stop thinking about stuff like that, please.”

“I can’t help it. I think about what if it was you, then I just—”

“Mommy?” Ally was at the top of the stairs.

I cleared my throat and tried to keep my voice pleasant.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I’ll be up in a minute.”

Evan and I said our good-byes, then I washed my face in cold water, hoping Ally wouldn’t notice my puffy eyes. As I cuddled in bed with her, Moose at our feet, I stroked her hair and gently tickled her back. Then I thought of another mother out there who just found out her daughter was missing. I wondered what she did to soothe her to sleep when she was little. I wondered what this woman would think if she knew her daughter was gone because my cell was on vibrate.

When Ally drifted off, I eased out of her bed. Moose’s head popped up, but I motioned for him to stay and he dropped it back onto Ally’s Barbie quilt. In my office I pulled up Google and typed in “Danielle Sylvan.” I hoped there wouldn’t be anything, but I found an article in the paper where she’d volunteered for a literacy program. The photo of her face beaming as she held out an armful of books to some children just about killed me. The deep red of her hair was vibrant against her pale skin. I imagined that skin even paler in death, and my stomach flipped. I sent the article to Billy, knowing he had a BlackBerry and would get it instantly. My message said, Did you find her? I waited and waited — hitting send/receive every second. Finally, ten minutes later, he answered: Not yet.

I turned off the computer and climbed into bed, cell on the night table. I tossed and turned for hours.

It’s your fault, all your fault. Your fault.

The next morning Ally was cranky: “I don’t want to wear my raincoat.” “I want to wear the blue socks, no, the yellow ones.” “When will Evan be home?” “Why can’t Moose come?” “I’m tired of cereal.” Finally I got her dressed and we were on our way. We were a mile from her school when my cell rang in my purse. Ally, who was singing in her seat and moving her head back in forth in time with the windshield wipers, began to sing louder. I reached into the console and grabbed my cell. As soon as I saw John’s number, I panicked.

“Ally Cat, this is an important client, so you have to be quiet, okay?”

She kept singing.

I raised my voice as the phone rang again. “Ally, that’s enough.”

She looked at me. “You’re not supposed to answer the phone while you’re driving, Mommy — it’s not safe.”

“You’re right, that’s why Mommy’s pulling over.” I quickly turned onto the soft shoulder of the road and stopped the Cherokee. “He really needs my help, so you have to be super quiet, okay?” Rain thundered down on us as Ally stared out the window, drawing shapes in the condensation. She was pissed at me, but at least she was quiet.

I answered the phone in a rush. “Hello?”

“Sara.” His voice was low and raspy. Like he’d been yelling.

I said, “I’m really sorry about what happened. I made a mistake, but it won’t happen again, okay? I promise.”

I held my breath and braced for a barrage, but he was silent.

So Ally couldn’t hear, I turned to the window and lowered my voice. “John, there was something about a missing woman on the news last night?”

He was still silent. In the background I could hear traffic, but there was another sound — a persistent thump. I strained my ears. Beside me Ally’s legs started to kick. Still waiting for John to answer, I flipped open the glove box and found a notepad and a pen. As I handed it to Ally, I motioned for her to draw me a picture. She ignored the pad and crossed her arms over her chest. I gave a warning look, and she stared out the window.

I said, “Are you still there?” The thump in the background was louder.

“You shouldn’t have ignored me. I needed you.”

“I’m sorry. But I’m here now. Can you tell me where she is?”

His voice was flat. “She’s with me.”

Hope surged — until I realized he didn’t say she was alive.

“Is she okay?”

Beside me Ally kicked at the dashboard. I grabbed her foot and gave another warning look. She pulled her foot out of my hand and started bouncing up and down in her seat. I clamped my hand down on the phone’s speaker. “Ally, stop it this minute or — or you’re not going to Meghan’s sleepover on Sunday.” Ally gave a shocked gasp and sat back in her seat.

On the phone John said, “I don’t know what to do.”

I had to say something fast. Think, Sara, think. He depersonalizes them. He doesn’t want to think of them as people. Make her real.

“The news said her name is Danielle. She has people who really care about her, John. Her parents, they just want her home, and—”

“I wanted you. The noise was getting bad — nothing was working. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

I glanced at Ally. She was drawing on the window again.

“Well, you can talk to me now, so you can let her go home, okay?”

His voice was flat. “It’s not that simple.” I cringed as I remembered saying the same thing to Evan.