One Way Or Another You Will Pay (7 page)

My
head hurts, my eyes are swollen from crying, and my voice is hoarse from shouting out Savannah’s name.

“Mum?”

I look up into Warren’s face. “Is Savannah going to …to …like…
die
like Sasha?” His eyes are watery and his bottom lip quivers as he struggles to skirt the word ‘die.’

To
hear him utter those words, even though they’re on everyone’s lips and minds, horrifies me. Quickly, I reach out, grab him, and jerk him into my arms. “No,” I whisper, hugging him tight, my tears wetting his t-shirt. “No!”

He
hugs me back, then rubs my back like Bear usually does. “Better, Mum?”

I
nod and sob into his little chest.

Somebody
is massaging the back of my neck. I look around into Amy’s face. Tears spill down her red cheeks. I draw her to me and hug her too.

“It’s
okay,” Warren mutters, rubbing Amy’s back, then mine. “Dad’s going to fix it. He always does.” He looks at me. “This time it’s different, right, Mum? This time we have Dad with us?”

I
don’t answer, because …what do I say to him?

“Right,
Mum?” His voice is pleading.

I
look up into Bear’s face and we lock eyes. He drops his first, his shoulders hunching even more.

“Yeah,”
I eventually say to Warren. What else can I do but lie to my son?

Then,
three detectives race over, excitement all over their faces. They take Bear and I aside.

“Through
the use of Luminol, we’ve found blood in Savannah’s room. Savannah’s blood.”

My
hands fly to my mouth. “Oh, God! Oh, God!”

“H…how
much blood?” Bear asks.

“Not
sure as yet, but it’s smeared on the walls of her bedroom.”

My
legs threaten to give. “Oh, God!”

“Hang
on a second,” Bear says. “About a week ago, she and Warren bumped into each other and she bled at the mouth. Could that be …?”

Detective
Holmes turns to look at Bear. Doesn’t answer, just looks at him as if he’s studying him, observing him.

“Tell
us about last night,” Holmes says. “Why did you take a shower at 2 AM?”

Bear
shrugs. “Arena was home with the kids, I went fishing …got home around 2 AM, took a shower and went to bed.”

“Who
did you fish with?”

“Alone.
Ritchie canceled on me, so I went alone.”

“Ritchie?
Arena’s …?”

“…younger
brother.” As Bear utters these words, Ritchie rushes over to us and puts his arm around my shoulder.

Bear
jerks his chin toward Ritchie.

Holmes
looks at Ritchie.

“Yep,
that’s what happened,” Ritchie says. “I canceled because my wife couldn’t get home on time from her girls’ night out.”

Holmes
nods and writes furiously. “Anyone can verify your time of arrival and the shower story?”

Bear
shrugs. “Only Arena.”

My
head bobs.

The
detectives put their heads together and start muttering.

“What?”
Bear asks.

“We’ve
found blood on your fishing knife,” Holmes says. “We can confirm it’s Savannah’s blood.”

“Oh
my God!” I cry. Did whoever take her slit her throat? “Oh, God! Oh, God!” The room begins to spin.

Bear
tries to hold onto me, but he’s fast crumbling.

“Oh,
Jesus!” Bear cries, clutching at me. “No, no, no!” he mutters. “Savannah, baby…”

Both
of us are shaking.

Savannah…

They give us a few minutes to our grief before they return to us.

“We
need you to come down to the station for questioning,” Holmes says, putting away his notepad.

Behind
him, three cops adopt an arresting stance and look at Bear.

“Sure,”
Bear says. “Whatever you need. Just do it.”

“Why
do you need him to go to the station?” I ask through my tears.

“It’s
okay, Arena,” Bear says. “Let’s get this over and done with so we can move on.”

In
plain view of neighbours and news crews camped outside our house, Bear is escorted into the
back
of a police car.

Both
our SUVs and our boat have been ‘seized by the police for investigation.

“Don’t
worry,” Ritchie says, as he dials furiously, “I’ll get him a lawyer right away.”

“Why?”
Holmes asks. “Does he need one?”

Ritchie
doesn’t answer, he continues his call.

Fatima
taps me on the shoulder.

I
turn around.

“Look!”
She points to her laptop.

To
my surprise, I see Meredith Simon, the neighbour whose house I’m in, talking to a news crew. Being interviewed.

“Yes,
it’s true; they found blood on the husband’s knife and he’s been arrested,” she says. “No dingo around this time.” She chuckles. “Shows you don’t really know people. Evidently, we didn’t know our neighbours.”

My
jaw drops.

She
looks in her element, happy to be surrounded by cameras, lapping up the attention.

“Yes,
it is scary indeed, because we’ve known them for a while now and they came

across
as, well,
normal
.” She laughs.

When
she finishes and walks back inside, I run up to her. “Meredith, why did you do that?”

“Why
did
Bear
do what he did?” she snaps, arms akimbo. “Shouldn’t you be asking your husband that question?”

I’m
stunned by her coldness. Where did this come from?

“Meredith,
he didn’t do anything!”

“Oh,
really now?”

“I
bet they paid you,” Fatima says.

Meredith
just shrugs.

“I
think we should leave this place,” Fatima says to me.

“I
think that is a good idea,” Meredith says.

All
I can do is stare at Meredith, my friend and neighbour. How quickly did she

turn
on me? Bear and I have been really good to them.

“Bear
being arrested for murder of his own child – we’re church members, we have to disassociate ourselves from people like you. I’m sure you understand.”

“Really
NOW!” I say, ready to snap.

“Don’t
you yell at me!”

Hearing
the commotion, Ritchie runs up to me. “Hey, hey, hey! What’s going on?”

Fatima
explains.

“You’re
throwing them out?” Ritchie says, looking annoyed. “Bear didn’t kill his child, you moron!” He takes my hand, his nostrils flaring. “Let’s get the fuck out of here, Arena. Come to my place.”

Having
no choice, I take my family out of the Simons’ and make my way to Ritchie’s place. The problem with Ritchie’s place is, 1) He has a houseguest, his wife’s brother from the Ukraine, 2) He and Olga appear to be experiencing marital discord, or at least I think they are. 3) Olga hasn’t shown up at my house as yet to offer support or sympathy, even though it has been hours since Savannah was snatched, 4) his house is three streets away from mine, which makes it too far.

Right
now, I want to see my home. I
need
to see my home for …
whatever
reason. I just need to remain connected with it. Badly.

The
television is full of Savannah’s kidnapping and they speak of her in the past tense, as if she is already dead. Photographs of Bear during his time as an undercover cop, in shabby homeless-man’s clothes, big, unruly beard, and busy eyebrows are the only photographs that grace newspapers and television screens. More like mug-shots than photographs.

A
poll taken by a television station shows that 93 percent of viewers believe Bear killed his daughter.

Some
believe that because he’s a former cop, he knows how to manipulate the system to avoid getting caught.

What
is wrong with these people? They don’t know Bear. And if he was such a seasoned murderer, why would he leave a knife at the scene of the crime?

I
sit with my head in my hands at Ritchie’s dining table, my head swarming with concerns and fears.

How
did Savannah’s blood get on Bear’s knife?

Is
Bear going to be arrested? Will he be convicted of Savannah’s murder or killing or kidnapping?

After
losing Sasha, staying positive is near impossible.

But
I know one thing: Bear did not kill Savannah.

He
fell in love with her when he first set eyes on her. During her delivery by caesarian section, he helped the doctor lift her out of my belly. Other than the doctor, he was the first person to touch our daughter when she entered this earth.

He
doted on her. Liked to sleep with her on his chest. Waking up when she cried at night was never a problem for Bear.

With
Amy, he was away on assignments a lot and felt robbed of her early days. Not wanting to make the same mistake with Savannah, he overcompensated, not wanting to close his eyes for fear of missing out.

Bear
loves his children. Dotes on them. They are enough for Bear. Me and the kids, we’re enough for Bear.

But
right now, try telling people that. Try
convincing
people.

I’m
trapped in a nightmare again.

Tom.

Later that afternoon, Bear, after passing a polygraph among other things, returns home.

Thank
God for my brother; he handles everything.

When
he enters Ritchie’s house, Bear gives me a one-arm hug, which tells me he is mad with me.

If
Bear is bitter and angry at the finger of blame pointing his way, at the travesty of justice, he doesn’t show it. Probably because he doesn’t have time to show it. We have a press conference to attend.

At
the conference, when I see all the photos of Savannah, I fall to pieces and am unable to talk, so Bear does, while he holds my hand.

But
he’s overcome with emotion as he talks about Savannah missing her favorite bunny rabbit called Wabbit and he trips over words, mumbles and shakes his head like a Labrador.

Eventually,
he drops my hand and steps back before he can finish what he was supposed to say.

Luckily,
Fatima steps in, puts her arm around my shoulder, and takes over.

After
the press conference, Bear doesn’t rest. “Come,” he says to Ritchie, heading out the door again, “let’s hit the streets.”

He
leaves the house without saying goodbye.

****

When Bear returns home later that night, after cruising the streets looking for his daughter, he withdraws, refuses a drink, doesn’t look at anyone, and barely speaks. Won’t eat, just has coffee.

Each
time I am offered coffee, I accept it, only to let it go cold and untouched.

The
day blurs into night and we jump each time the phone rings. Anyone’s phone for that matter, we all just freeze at the sound of a ringing telephone. Ransom call? They found her? They found her body? A new lead (we’ll take anything,) has come in?

But
nothing.

Then
Debbie, Amy’s mother and Bear’s ex-wife, drops in.

To
our utter surprise, instead of being there to offer her sympathy and support, she turns to Bear and says, “I’ve come to take Amy.”

“What?!”
Bear looks at her in disbelief. “What for?”

“When
all this is cleared up,” she says, circling her finger in the air, “we can
talk
.”

Bear
stands really tall and glares at Debbie. “No, Debbie, you aren’t taking her.”