Never Knowing (38 page)

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.

I stepped into the camper. “Ally?”

When I peered under the table her big green eyes gazed up at me. Her mouth had a bandanna tied over it and so did her wrists. She threw herself into my arms with muffled whimpers.

“Oh, my God! You
gagged
her.” My fingers fought with the knot at the back of her head.

“I made sure she could breathe—I told you, she wouldn’t stop screaming.”

I had the bandanna off, but Ally was almost hyperventilating. I forced myself to keep my voice calm.

“Ally, take deep breaths. It’s okay, I’m going to undo your hands, everything’s fine. Just do what Mommy says, okay?”

She was still gasping while I wrestled with the knot on her wrists. I had to calm her down. Then I remembered a game I used to play with her when she was younger and her attention span was even worse.

“Remember wiz-a-boo, sweetie?” Ally’s body stilled.

John said, “What’s that? What are you telling her?”

“It’s just a word that means we can trust someone because they’re a friend.” It actually meant to pay very careful attention to Mommy because the fairies were listening. If she was a good girl, they left little presents for her around the house—glass flowers, tiny bells, little crystal shoes. She soon caught on that it was me leaving the trinkets, but I hoped she understood what I was trying to tell her now—she
had
to listen to me.

She lifted her head and looked into my face with tear-filled eyes.

“The man cut my hair and he tied my hands and put me in here and—”

John said, “I didn’t want you to hurt yourself.” I glanced out. He was pacing at the back of the camper. “Tell her! Tell her who I am.”

I took a deep breath. “Remember when Mommy told you she was adopted? Well, this is your grandfather.”

She stared at me and her voice quivered as she said, “He is
not
!”

“Yes, he is, Ally, he’s my real father. Mommy has two dads, like you. But I didn’t know about him until recently. He wants to get to know you, but he just did it the wrong way and he’s sorry he scared you.”

John said, “It’s true, Ally. I’m sorry.”

Ally was sobbing. “He hurt my hands.” She buried her face in the crook of my neck. Her body shook against mine. I wanted to kill John.

“He didn’t mean to, honey. Did you, John?”

“No, no, of course not! I tried not to tie them tight, but she was squirming.”

“See? He’s really sorry. He has a new chair outside just for you. Let’s go see it, okay?”

John said, “It’s a Barbie chair, but I didn’t know which one you like—I bought the blond one. I didn’t know you had dark hair.”

He sounded concerned, so I said, “The blond one is Ally’s favorite.” Ally’s head popped up and her mouth started to open. I quickly gave her a smile and a wink.
Please, please, please.

Ally paused for just a moment. “She’s the prettiest.”

I gave her a big smile. “Yes, she is.”

I glanced at the door to see if John was buying it. He clutched at his heart.

“Phew. I spent hours trying to get the right one.” He motioned with his hand. “Come out so we can sit by the fire and talk.”

I stood up and took Ally’s hand. I glanced around the camper for any possible weapons, but there were only plastic shakers on the table. Ally let me lead her to the door. I jumped out first and spun around to lift her out, but when I tried to set her down she clung to my neck. I carried her over to the fire, where John was fussing with the chairs. He moved one closer, then put it back, then moved it closer again. I stood and waited with Ally’s face buried in my neck.

Finally I said, “That’s good.”

He stepped back. “All right, then. But let me know if you get too hot—we can move them wherever you want.”

As I sat down—Ally still wrapped around me—John threw a couple of logs on the fire. Then he sat in his chair, but his body was tense. He scratched the side of his head and gave me that awkward smile again as his eyes slid past mine.

“You want some lunch? Kids are always hungry.” He stood. “I’ve got some moose sausages in the cooler.”

Ally’s voice was panicky. “I don’t want to eat Moose.”

“He doesn’t mean our Moose, Ally.”

John laughed. “I got a big yearling this spring and had most of it made into sausages and hamburger.” He walked toward the camper. “Meat melts in your mouth—doesn’t taste gamey at all.” As Ally made a face, I shook my head and brought my finger to my lips.

“Sounds delicious,” I said to John’s back.

John reached for a blue cooler under the camper. While he was busy I looked around, but there was nothing I could grab. I eyed a couple of blocks of wood and wondered if I could knock him out with one, but they were big and I wouldn’t be able to lift one quickly, which meant I’d lose the element of surprise. Maybe later when he was sleeping? The thought of spending the night with him sent a new wave of terror through my body.

John set a package of sausages on the table and a carton of eggs, then stepped back into the trailer. My blood surged with adrenaline as he banged around, and my muscles tensed—every cell in my body saying,
Run!
But I stopped myself. Even though I hadn’t seen his guns yet, I knew he had them. And carrying a six-year-old, I needed a big head start—Ally wasn’t fast enough running on her own. Biding my time and trying to talk my way out of this was still my best chance of escape.

John emerged from the trailer with a handful of condiments, set them on the table, then went back in and came out with some plastic glasses and plates.

“Aren’t you going to try your chair, Ally?” He was setting the table.

She turned and glared at him. “No.”

He frowned and set the last plate down, then rested his big hands on the table. Anxiety hummed in my chest and I held Ally tighter.

John said, “I thought you said you liked it.”

Ally’s mouth opened, and I quickly said, “She does—she’s just scared of wrecking it. But you won’t be mad at her if she does, right, John?”

John laughed. “For breaking a chair? Of course not!”

Ally stared at me. I smiled and said, “See, it’s okay. You can sit in it.” With my chin tilted down so her head blocked my lips from John’s view, I mouthed,
Go, now.

She eased off my lap and with one eye on John pulled the chair close to me and clutched my hand. I tried to give her a reassuring smile, but she was watching John. I noticed tear tracks on her face and felt sick. She must be so confused. Here was a man who hurt her, and now I was telling her to do what he said.

John had everything out on the tables—salt, pepper, butter, syrup, bread. He moved the plates around a couple of times, lining up everything just right, then looked at me.

“I got the plates yesterday, but I didn’t know what color…”

“The green’s pretty. Thanks.”

“Yeah?” His face lit up.

I nodded and prayed he’d be stupid enough to give me a knife, but he didn’t lay any cutlery on the table. Instead he set a metal rack in the middle of the fire, then got a cast-iron frying pan from the camper and put it on the rack. “I can’t wait to show you the ranch I bought for us to live on,” he said as he arranged sausage links in the pan.