Always Watching

this would be many people’s reactions, Not Aaron, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. But I know he did. I considered sharing my story but didn’t feel right about it, not given our history and his connection with the commune.
    “I doubt it, Daniel. I know for a fact that he has molested at least one young girl.” I held his gaze.
    He sat back in his chair, pushing his cup forward as though to block my words. “No way. I still don’t believe it.”
    He didn’t want to believe it. I sat back in my own chair, suddenly very tired. Since I’d seen the green truck outside my home the week before, I’d woken up several times throughout the night, listening to every vehicle as it drove past, holding my breath until it was gone. The previous evening, I’d gotten two more calls from a private number, and each time they hung up when I answered. In case it was related to my attack in Nanaimo, I talked to the police up there, but they had no new leads. They told me that I could start marking the calls by pressing *57, and then my phone provider would release the information to them. But they could only do something if the person started to verbally harass me when I answered. They couldn’t do anything about hang-ups.
    “There was a reason you left,” I said, gently. “I think if you’d really wanted to stay, you would have found a way to convince Heather. Is it possible that you’ve had your own doubts about some of their methods and beliefs?”
    Daniel flinched, his face pulling as he wrestled with his emotions.
    I said, “I know you’re hurting, Daniel, and you want to be part of something that brings meaning to your life, to all of this, but the center isn’t it.”
    He was already shaking his head before I was finished speaking, refusing to hear me or the doubt-filled thoughts that were creeping into his mind.
    “You don’t understand. The whole point is to trust the process, to have faith you’re on the path to enlightenment, or it doesn’t work. Questions are just fear, trying to distract you from your path.” He got up, and before he walked away, he paused by my chair, not looking down, as he said, “I’m going back.”
    *   *   *
    The next evening after work, I looked for Lisa again. I was encouraged when a homeless woman told me about an abandoned house downtown where she might be staying, but when I got there, the place was empty. I thought about trying to find the commune store, but I needed a break from thinking about that place. I stopped by a store window, seeing an angora scarf in a blue that would look wonderful with Lisa’s eyes. I went in, fingered the soft material, wishing I could buy it for her birthday, which was the following weekend, but realized it would probably get stolen on the street if she didn’t sell it first. I opened a bottle of perfume, inhaled the woodsy aroma, and remembered how excited she was the first year I’d given her a perfume set. Did she still like the sweeter scents, or would something stronger appeal to her now?
    While I browsed the store, I reminisced about how I’d tried to make every one of her birthdays a celebration when she was growing up, baking special cakes and decorating the house top to bottom, singing to her at the top of my lungs. Then I remembered that we hadn’t celebrated birthdays at the commune—Aaron said that we were ageless. I felt a sudden surge of anger at my parents, at the choices they made, how they’d let us down. Then I wondered if Lisa also felt that way. What did she blame me for? Her drug addiction? Her father’s death?
    On my way out, I spotted a stuffed husky who looked just like Chinook. Lisa was long past toy animals. I bought it anyway.
    *   *   *
    In the morning, Steve Phillips called me at the hospital. When I dialed him back, my hand kept pressing the wrong buttons. I had to slow down and start again a couple of times. I was nervous, in hope and in fear of what I might learn.
    He said, “I got those names for you.”
    “That was fast. I really appreciate this.”
    “My friend’s been hoping for a break in this case for a long time. The girls are Tammy and Nicole Gelsinki. He talked to Tammy. She’s living in Victoria, and she’s willing to speak to you, but she’s pretty edgy. Got a pen?”
    I wrote down Tammy’s number, and he filled me in on what Mark had told her about me, and that Tammy wouldn’t reveal where Nicole was living. I wondered if she might feel more comfortable telling me than