Never Knowing

“What if I just start talking to him again? Maybe I can coax him to reveal more, or at least take his attention away from the campsites.”

“Why can’t you just let it be?”

My voice broke as I said, “Because I can’t. I just can’t.”

Evan’s voice was gentle. “Baby, you know this isn’t going to make Julia love you, right?”

“This isn’t about trying to get her to love me. But if you love me, Evan, you should understand why I have to do this.”

“I think there’s a part of you that likes being the only one who can stop him — that’s why you can’t let it go.”

“That’s a horrible thing to say. You actually think I like that my father is a serial killer and he already killed a woman because of me?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I mean you just don’t know how to—”

“Stick my head in the sand and pretend everything is okay? Like you?”

“Now, that’s a horrible thing to say.”

We were both silent.

Finally Evan sighed and said, “We’re just going around in circles. If you’re going to talk to him again, just be prepared that he’s going to try and set up another meeting.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, Evan. I just need to know I have your support.”

“I’m not happy about you talking to him, but I understand why you feel you have to. But I mean it, Sara — I don’t want you to try to meet him again.”

“I won’t do anything without talking to you about it first, okay?”

“You better not.”

“Or what?” I said it in a teasing tone, but Evan’s voice when he answered was serious.

“I’m not kidding, Sara.”

Over the weekend I thought about what I should do and talked to Billy about it again. He said Sandy told him she never coerced Julia into speaking to me, it was something she wanted to do on her own. Maybe, but I have my doubts. Sandy’s so driven I think she’d do just about anything to get John. As time went on and I still hadn’t made a decision, I wondered if I could get away with never having to. Then Julia called on Monday.

“I heard he e-mailed you again, Sara. Are you going to talk to him?”

“I haven’t decided.” I braced for her anger.

“Well, while you’re deciding, maybe you should consider this — the police said I might be the next person he tries to contact.” Her voice quivered on the last word and I realized how scared she was. “This time I hope he kills me.” Then she hung up.

It took a full five minutes for my heart to stop pounding. I called Evan, but he didn’t answer. I knew I should talk to him before I made a decision and I did wait another hour, but when he still didn’t answer an odd kind of calm settled over me. I knew what I had to do.

I went upstairs and typed out an e-mail to John. All it contained was one sentence—How can I help you, John? — and my new phone numbers. Then, before I could allow myself to think about it any longer, I hit send.

But I still haven’t heard from him. It just about killed me not to ask Sandy if she told Julia I’d e-mailed him back. Does she like me now? Now that I’m risking my life and my family? Now that Evan’s pissed off at me? Then I told myself over and over again that I don’t care what she thinks. I’m getting so good at lying, I almost believe it.

The thing is, though, it’s not just for her. This will never end unless I find a way to make it end. And in my gut I know the only way to do that is to meet with him — you even agree with me. I know it’s crazy for me to think I can do something the police can’t. But sometimes, on a deep kinetic level, as much as I don’t understand what John does, something inside me does get it. I do think I have the power to stop him. And Evan is right, I like it.

Then I think of John, of that moment when he’s standing over those women, or lining someone up in his gun sights. I wonder if this is how he feels.

SESSION SEVENTEEN

Have you ever felt like you had it all in your hands, everything you ever wanted, but then you dropped it, or maybe you just squeezed too hard? The whole way here I was trying to come up with the perfect analogy for what’s been going on. And isn’t that just the story of my life? I’m always trying to make it perfect.

You know what my past relationships were like — epic dramas I discussed with anyone willing to listen. Either I was completely obsessed with my ex-boyfriends or they were completely obsessed with me. And as your thick file can attest, things didn’t end well.

God, when you used to say, “You’ll know when it’s the right person.…” I wanted to throw things at you. But you’d just give me that all-knowing smile of yours and say, “Trust me, Sara, real love doesn’t feel like that.” If I was currently entangled in a relationship that was heading straight for a cliff, even if deep down I knew it, I’d argue with you until I was blue in the face that he was The One!

I never understood just how wrong they all were and just how right you were until I met Evan. My past relationships were like a brutal hockey game — a brawl could break out at any minute, we were never on the same side, and no one ever won. Evan and I were always on the same team. I never had to look behind me or question where he was — I knew he was skating beside me, working in tandem with the same goal in sight. But it’s like all of a sudden I looked up and now he’s on the opposite side of the rink, we’re both playing defense, and someone’s going to get slammed into the wall.

What’s been happening between Evan and me lately, all this fighting, isn’t good. It scares me as much as John does. But it’s my own reactions that scare me the most. Because when someone pushes me, I push back harder.

John finally called the day after our last session.

“I missed talking to you.”

I didn’t answer right away, wasn’t sure I could without calling him every name in the book.

“I’m glad you e-mailed,” he said. “I was worried.”

He was worried? That was interesting. Billy and most of the books I’d read said serial killers don’t feel remorse but knew how to emulate it, so I figured they must understand the principle behind it. I decided to test my theory.

“What you did was horrible, John.”

“What I did?”

“Leaving the Barbie with its face burned off, then sending e-mails you know are going to upset me. You made me feel awful.”

“You lied to me.”

“You were asking unfair questions. You might be Ally’s biological grandfather, but I don’t know what you want from us — or from her. I’d have to be crazy to give you personal details about my child.”

“I just wanted to get to know you better.” He sounded unsure, like he was thrown off guard by my confident tone.