A good long while: This just suggested that more was on the way. Who was behind this? I was convinced that the answer wouldn’t turn up on Washtenaw Street in Portland.
I called Pete Sunday that afternoon.
“I want to see copies of all the police reports from the night Belinda McCormack died. Not just the ones that pertain specifically to Belinda’s death. I want copies of those too. But I want to see any copies of anything having to do with the drugs he might have been on—whether there were bad drugs circulating at the time that might account for Stefan’s behavior that night. There must be all kinds of things I didn’t see. From the…the autopsy. And the way that the…crime scene looked. I never saw all that.”
“Mrs. Christiansen, why would you? You already had access to all of the relevant documents.”
“I only remember hearing about the report dealing with the emergency call at the time of Belinda’s death, and I’m not sure it was complete at the time.”
Pete Sunday sighed, but somehow, I could tell that it wasn’t from impatience or boredom. He actually didn’t know what to say. It had been several years since that night in the hospital; but I could still picture him, a sharp-dressed man seemingly out of place in the Northwoods hamlet. Belinda’s death had been the most shocking case of his career; to be fair, it would have been among the most shocking cases of anyone’s career outside Baltimore.
“Mrs. Christiansen, there’s a limit to what I can share with you.”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“Can you make copies and mail them to me? Or email them?”
“I can’t mail police reports. We can discuss what you need to see. You’d have to come up here and pick up any reports. The ones I can give you anyhow. Which I’m not sure what they are.”
“I…don’t want to,” I told him.
He said, “Well, sure. That makes sense. But we don’t mail copies of police reports. To anybody. If you want them you have to come up here and fill out a formal request form.”
So that was how I ended up making the decision to go back to Black Creek, to make a journey I had formally forsworn, dragging the ballast of my own misgivings and my family’s disapproval.
“Don’t go,” said Stefan. “The place is bad luck.”
“Wait,” said Jep, “for better weather, better timing, for me to come with you.”
“I have to do it now,” I told them both. “I need to know more now. I need to read everything they have on file. I don’t remember what I actually saw and what the lawyer told us. And I just have to put my own mind at rest. I want to read the police report thoroughly now. And I know I never read any follow-up reports at all. I have to find out what became of everything after you were sentenced. I feel guilty that I never even asked…”
Stefan said, “Mom, I know you’re doing this because you still don’t believe you could raise a kid that could do something like I did. But there is no other story. There’s only one story.”
Jep said, “And what is it you’re really looking for exactly?”
“Insight,” I said, at the same moment that Stefan said, “Trouble.” Stefan and Jep nodded sagaciously at each other, so alike that a wash of tenderness nearly swamped me.
“Look, this isn’t over. At least for somebody it isn’t over. Obviously! Are you both going to ignore the fact that there was an arson at our house? At our own house? Maybe the publicity spurred someone to act. It can still get worse. What about the calls, the stalker? What’s next? The whole house itself? One of us?”
That silenced both of them. Jep said then, “I’m sorry for blaming you, Theaitsa. But we just need to move on as a family.”
“Well I can’t move on. Not until I know…whatever it turns out I need to know. I just need to do this. Maybe there is no puzzle. I just feel like there still is. And I’m missing a piece.”
Then we all subsided to our corners like old soldiers hors de combat.
The morning before I left, I sat down with Stefan to ask if he had chosen the next candidate for The Healing Project. Dozens of suggestions had poured in since our appearance on TV. It would take a long time to sort these new ones into priorities and future possibilities. Since Merry was on a maternity leave, for the first time he’d be doing that entirely on his own with situations that were unfamiliar, related in no way to him or us. Even given his driving desire to make amends, he felt like he was underwater in heavy current.