Never Knowing

“She’s safe — I tied her up so she can’t go anywhere.”

“What do you mean she’s—”

“It’ll be fine. You two will have fun with me, you’ll see.” He hung up.

I screamed at my windshield.

The cell was hot in my hands. My breath coming in quick, short gasps. This was bad, this was really bad. I had to call the police. They were professionals; they’d know what to do. But what if John had a police scanner? He’d disappear with Ally and we’d never get her back. I thought of the lock of hair in my pocket, the uneven edge like he’d hacked it with a knife, and a fresh wave of terror rushed through my body. I put the phone down.

Twenty minutes later I finally spotted the turnoff for Horne Lake, and as soon as I parked in the gravel clearing I located the culvert. Sure enough, there was a box in it. As I walked back to the truck I checked the cell, but there was no coverage. I was on my own.

My heart going nuts and my mouth dry, I wrapped the blindfold around my head and lay down on the front seat. The sun was beating through the windshield and I hadn’t had any water for hours. Sweat trickled down the side of my face. About ten minutes later I heard a vehicle coming down the road. My body tensed. When the vehicle pulled off the road into the clearing and alongside my truck, I started to shake.

A door opened, slammed, then heavy footsteps. My truck door creaked open and a hand patted my shin. I jerked back, knocking my head on the doorframe.

“Bet that hurt.” John sounded concerned. “You okay?”

“Can I take the blindfold off?”

“Not yet. Shimmy to the end of the bench seat and I’ll guide you out.”

When a large hand wrapped around my leg it was all I could do not to kick him. As I wriggled out, my knees bumped into something and I braced for a blow, but nothing happened. I was standing now and sensed his presence in front of me. I wondered where Ally was and tilted my chin up to peer under the fold of fabric I’d tied loosely around my eyes but couldn’t make anything out. His hand lightly gripping my elbow, he led me a couple of steps forward, then paused. His hand left my arm and I jumped as he slammed Gerry’s truck door behind me.

“Where’s Ally?” I said.

“Back at camp.”

“You left her alone? She’s six. You can’t just—”

“She doesn’t believe I’m her grandfather — you have to tell her. She won’t stop screaming.” He sounded frustrated. My heart broke, thinking how scared she must be.

“She’ll be okay once she sees me.” I prayed it was true.

He led me a couple more paces, then a door opened.

“Watch your step,” he said as he lifted one of my legs and placed it inside a vehicle. I flinched at the sensation of warm rough hands on my calf, but he didn’t linger. The door slammed beside me. My throat tightened in panic. What if this was just a ruse to get me alone? What if Ally was really still back in the house, maybe tied up in the garage with Moose? My mind couldn’t go to the other, far worse possibility. Instead I focused on what the books said about dealing with a serial killer — there’s no dealing with them. Negotiation, pleading, or resisting generally doesn’t end well. Escape is your best option. I had to keep him calm until I found Ally, then look for a chance to escape.

He started the truck and it clunked as he shifted into gear. A standard. I had no idea if the information was useful, but it made me feel better to know something.

“So here we are, finally together.”

“I don’t understand why you came to the house early. I thought we were going to meet later at the park and—”

“You weren’t going to meet me, Sara.”

I was silent, trying to think of a response that wouldn’t sound like a lie.

Finally I said, “You didn’t give me a chance to think—”

“I told you, there wasn’t any time. I’m not crazy — I know what I’m doing.” He sighed. “I’ll explain later.” Then he said, “I brought some of my guns to show you — my Browning.338 and my Ruger 10/22. I really wanted to show you my Remington.223—that’s a great gun, but the firing pin broke on me last week and it’s still at the shop.” He paused. Even though I couldn’t see his face, I sensed he was waiting for a response.

“Sounds great.” But it would be better if I could convince him to let me hold one. My mind filled with images of shooting him and fleeing with Ally. He changed subjects, explaining how different the lush coastal forest is on the island compared to the drier scrubby terrain of the Interior. I wasn’t sure if he was just excited to have an audience or nervous, but he barely stopped for breath.

When it felt like we’d been bouncing over potholes for a while, I said, “Sorry to interrupt, but is Ally okay where you left her? It’s hot, does she have water and—”

“I know how to take care of a child.” He was annoyed again. “She’s just scared because she doesn’t know me. But when she sees you she’ll be fine.” I was glad that he seemed to want to keep us happy. But what was going to happen if I couldn’t calm Ally down? She had to be terrified.

“John, there was a female police officer at the house. Did Ally see you hurt her?”

“No.” Thank God for small mercies. “I didn’t want to hit that woman so many times, but she wouldn’t go down.”

My body started to shake.

The truck slowed for a few curves, then bumped and swayed over rough ground like we were on an old logging road. After another few minutes it came to a stop. John got out and slammed his door.

A moment later my door opened. “You can get out now.”

As soon as I stepped out of the truck, he lifted my blindfold off and I was standing in front of my father. In my nightmares his face was always angry and twisted, so I was shocked to see that he was handsome in a rugged kind of way. I couldn’t stop staring. It was all there — my green eyes, my bone structure, even my left eyebrow that arches higher than the right. His hair was cut short, but it was pretty much my shade of auburn. He was a lot taller and broader than me, but we both had long limbs. Dressed in a workman’s jean jacket, plaid shirt, baggy faded jeans, and hiking boots, he looked like a lumberjack. Or a hunter.

When he hitched up his pants, his eyes slid away from mine and he smiled awkwardly.

“So … here I am.”

I said, “You look like me.”

“No, you look like me.” He laughed and I forced myself to laugh back, but my eyes were searching the camp. Where is Ally? We were in a small clearing surrounded by fir trees. On my right a camper trailer was parked a few feet from his truck — a red Tacoma. A plastic fold-out table was set up near a fire pit, which was surrounded by a couple of canvas chairs and a smaller pink plastic chair with a Barbie head stenciled on the back. John turned in the direction of my gaze.

“Do you think she’ll like it?”

I glanced back at him. His eyes were anxious.

“She’ll love it.”

He looked relieved.

“Where is she?”

He smacked his head, like he couldn’t believe he forgot, then motioned me to follow him to the camper. He took his key and opened up the back.

As soon as the door swung out I said, “Mommy’s here, Ally.” I peered around his broad back but couldn’t see anything in the dim camper. I heard a small noise.

“Sweetie, you can come out now.”

A scrambling sound, then movement under the table. I could just glimpse the top of Ally’s head as she crawled out, but when she saw John she scooted back under the table.

He looked wounded. “Tell her not to be scared — I’m not going to hurt her.” If only I could believe it.