I considered the idea for a moment, then said, “I don’t want to tell Dad about the call yet, not until we know more. He’ll just take over and stress me out. And I don’t want to worry Lauren either. Greg’s at camp, so I wouldn’t be any safer over there. She’s got kids to think about too.” Evan still looked unsure, but he said, “Okay, I’ll put the shotgun under the bed and a baseball bat by the front door. Make sure you lock up every night, and take your cell if you go for a walk—”
“Baby, I’m not stupid. I’m going to be careful until the police figure out what’s going on.”
Evan ran a warm hand up my thigh. “I’m here to protect you tonight.…”
I raised an eyebrow. “Trying to distract me?”
“Maybe.” He smiled.
I shook my head. “I have too much on my mind right now.”
Evan pounced on me, growling into my neck. “Let me help with that.” As he tried to kiss me I moved my face to the side, but he held my head in place by the back of my hair, teasing my mouth with his. My thoughts started to settle and my body began to relax. I focused on the feel of his shoulder muscles flexing under my hand. Of our mouths open, tongues playing. I unzipped his jeans and used my foot to drag them down. We laughed as they caught on his ankles, but he kicked them free. He hooked his hand into my pajama bottoms and peeled them off, giving my ass a quick smack that earned him a fake yelp. I lightly punched his shoulder. We kissed for a few minutes.
Then the phone rang.
Into my neck Evan said, “Leave it.” And I did, but as I nuzzled his ear and grabbed at his butt, my mind was busy. Was it the Campsite Killer? The police? Did Julia call? Evan stopped kissing my collarbone and rested on me for a moment. I could feel his heart beating fast. He leaned up on his elbows and gave me a slow kiss, then said, “Go see who called.” I made denial noises. He gave me a look as he sat up and reached for his pants. “I know it’s killing you.” I gave him a sheepish smile, then dashed to the kitchen.
It was just Lauren, calling to chat about the boys, but for the rest of the weekend we both jumped every time the phone rang. Evan left Monday morning, but not until he lectured me on safety again. That afternoon I got a call from a private number. My body tense, I waited until it went to voice mail. Staff Sergeant Dubois wanted me to call back as soon as possible.
Staff Sergeant Mark Dubois turned out to be extremely tall — at least six-foot-four — and genial, despite his intimidating height and deep voice.
“Hi, Sara. Thanks for coming in.” He sat behind an enormous L-shaped desk and waved me into the seat in front. “Have you received any more strange calls?”
I shook my head. “But I saw my birth mother on Friday and she said the earrings the Campsite Killer took were pearls. They were a grad gift from her mother.”
The sergeant said, “Hmm…,” then clicked his tongue against his teeth. “We’d like to interview you, but this time we’re going to audio-and videotape it. Is that all right?”
“I guess.”
The sergeant led me down the hallway and into another room. This one was friendlier, with an overstuffed sofa, a lamp, and a painting of a seascape on the wall. There was also a camera in the upper corner. I settled at one end of the couch and the sergeant sat at the other, throwing a long arm up to rest on the back.
The questions were basically the same as the policewoman asked on Friday, but his tone was pleasant — conversational — and I opened up more. I even told him about my last visit with Julia and her emotional reaction.
“Good job, Sara,” he said with a smile after I was done. “This is going to be a big help to us.” His face turned serious. “But I’m afraid we need to tap your phone and—”
“So you
“We don’t know yet, but the Campsite Killer is a high-priority case and we need to take every lead seriously. Until we can confirm it was just a prank, our first concern is your safety. We’ll have a DVERS installed in your house as soon as possible.” “A what?”
“Domestic Violence Emergency Response System. It’s an alarm system we use when we feel the victim’s at risk.”
“The private investigator you hired is a retired policeman, but we haven’t been able to locate him yet for an interview. We’d prefer you not have any contact with him about this case. In the next couple of days, two members of the Serious Crimes Unit in Vancouver will come over to the island and talk to you.” “Why can’t Nanaimo just deal with it?”
“The Serious Crimes Unit has more members and greater resources. The suspect is potentially responsible for some horrific crimes. If that’s who’s calling you, then obviously we’d like to apprehend him, but we need to make sure we don’t jeopardize you or your family while we’re doing it.” Fear shot down my legs. “Should I send my daughter somewhere?”
“He hasn’t made any direct threats and we try not to separate families, but I suggest you go over some basic safety rules with her. Your husband’s away right now?”
“Fiance—we’re getting married in September. He already knows about the call, but should I tell my family?”
“It’s very important you not discuss this with anyone — including family — and your fiance also needs to keep it to himself. We can’t risk a leak to the media and the suspect finding out about the investigation.”
“But what if my family’s in danger too?”
“At this point he hasn’t indicated he wants to harm anyone. If there’s a threat, we’ll take the appropriate measures. Someone will be at your house tomorrow morning to tap your phone, and ADT will wire it for the alarm. In the meantime, if he calls, don’t answer, and contact me immediately.” He handed me his card. “Do you have any questions?” “I guess not. It’s all just so … surreal.”
He stood up and gave my shoulder a quick squeeze.
“You did the right thing by talking to us.”
I nodded like I believed him.
That night, while Ally played outside with Moose, I kept watch through the sliding glass door as I peeled carrots and listened to the TV playing behind me. When the local news came on, I almost cut myself. Sure enough, their lead story was Karen Christianson. They showed shots of the university — bunnies nibbling grass on the front lawn, noisy students in the cafeteria, a classroom door — while a newscaster said a professor had been identified as Karen Christianson, the Campsite Killer’s only surviving victim. They didn’t give my name, just said that Karen was rumored to have a daughter living in Nanaimo who couldn’t be reached for comment. The newscaster’s closing line was delivered in a somber voice. “As the days grow warmer, we can’t help but wonder where the Campsite Killer is now, and where he’ll be this summer.” That’s when I turned the TV off.
When Ally came back inside I told her we were going to play a game of “let’s pretend” and went over our safety rules. Evan and I had done this with her before, but this time every little detail mattered. Ally soon tired of the game, but I made her go over everything twice. What our code word is: Moose. That she’s not to go anywhere with an adult who doesn’t know it. What number on the phone is programmed to dial 911, what things the operator might ask, especially our address. And a new rule: she’s not to answer any phone, or open the door until an adult looks first. My heart stopped every time she forgot something.
When I snapped at her for answering the phone twenty minutes later, which turned out to be Lauren, she shut herself in her room and refused to talk to me. I made pancakes for dinner and wrote
When I got home the police were waiting to tap my landline, and ADT arrived soon after to wire the house. They also showed me how to use the small personal alarm, which I’m supposed to wear around my neck. I don’t want Ally to ask about it, so I carry it in my purse. After everyone cleared out I stared at the alarm and my now- tapped phone, trying not to panic. How long is this going to last? I can’t even have a private conversation with Evan anymore — The phone rang.
It rang again.
