I became concerned when nobody could locate Bear.
After a few days, I requested a meeting with Captain Warner. He, for some reason, was reluctant to see me. But I persisted and eventually I was ushered into his office.
“Mrs. Botha, I’m really sorry for your loss.” He shook my hand.
“Thank you. Please call me Arena.”
He gestured to a chair. “You mention a Bear Shaw.”
I nodded as I took a seat. “Shane Shaw.”
“Unfortunately, we don’t have anyone by that name, I’m afraid.”
“That’s because he’s an undercover. Probably has a different—”
“I know all the undercovers, and I know nobody by that name, ma’am.”
I frowned and rubbed the back of my neck. Could Bear have given me the wrong details? What the hell was going on?
“I can’t show you photos of all our undercovers and ask you to identify him, but do you have a photo of him?”
“Sure.” I pulled out my phone and showed him a couple photos of Bear.
He took my phone, excused himself, and left the room.
When he returned, he was shaking his head. “Sorry.”
I placed a hand on my forehead as confusion rained over me. “He has a daughter, Amy…?”
“Do you have a vehicle registration, perhaps?” he asked in a sympathetic voice.
I shook my head, feeling the fool that I was.
“I will look into it, check out his apartment, and get back to you. Can I ask that you please don’t pursue this? I don’t want to alert this person in any way. I will be on it.”
Alert him in any way? This person? What the hell was going on?
“Sure.” They had Bear wrong. He wasn’t the fraud they were making him out to be. However, by the time I left the police station, I felt somewhat duped by Bear. How did I even know that he was a cop? I just took his word for it.
But he had given me Captain Warner’s name? Maybe he gave me the Captain’s name not realizing that I would actually need to contact him. How stupid was I? He was probably married to someone in another state and was leading two lives. A candidate for an Oprah show.
Even though I doubted who Bear really was, I didn’t believe that he would hurt Sasha. I remembered how he held her and how he would kiss her cheek when she slept and how many soft toys he had bought her. He adored her. That I believed.
Anyway, what did it matter if Bear was a fraud? I couldn’t even think about him with Sasha’s funeral dominating my thoughts. I stowed Bear away in the attic of my mind. Later, Bear, whoever you are.
How do I describe the funeral? Heartbreaking. I wanted it to be over. I never wanted to remember Sasha like the way I saw her – ashen and in a tiny white box. Part of me died with my baby that day. I would never be the same.
I remember feeling rage – I wanted to hurt someone. Badly. Maim, injure, slash at them with a knife – I just wanted to fight.
I stood at her grave and closed my eyes. Sasha my baby, mommy is so sorry to have hurt you. I promise you darling, that one day I will find the person who did this to you and I will hurt them like they hurt you. I promise my darling baby. I love you forever.
****
For three weeks, Tom was consistently wonderful to Warren and me. Sometimes I had to wonder if this was the same man who abused and mistreated both my son and me – the man who grabbed me by the throat and squeezed till I saw tiny black dots in front of my eyes. Who had towered over Warren and smashed a CD with his bare hands, scaring Warren into wetting his pants. Who mocked Warren and called him names because Warren wore a Pull-up to bed.
Who grabbed my phone out of my hands and dropped it into the toilet once, because I was too long on the phone with my mother in South Africa, who had just undergone chemotherapy. Who threatened to hurt Mom if Warren wet the bed again.
As I said, it came to a point where I had to quiz myself as to who I was. I felt like I was going mental. I worried that I was.
Tom was always helpful, eager to make us happy, and he spent like crazy on Warren and me. Bought us stuff we didn’t ask for and didn’t even need.
He had passed the polygraph, defended me like crazy, and most of all, he had made no attempt to take Warren away.
“Losing Sasha has been a wake-up call,” he said to me. “I know that I have done and said some things that were truly…” He hung his head in shame. “I didn’t want to see the kids because I feared that I was too weak to give them back to you. I needed the time to do some soul-searching, and I did, Arena, I did. By God, I did – realized just how much I loved you and my kids. Without you, Arena, I am incomplete. I’ve been in therapy, and I have tackled demon after demon. Trust me – it has really helped me see where I went wrong.”
“Okay.”
“Everybody deserves a second chance, Arena. I need one too. Come home. It’s where you both belong. I miss my son so much. Losing Sasha has changed me. I can’t bear to think that something could happen to Warren.”
“I will think about it,” I said. “For now, I have too much on my plate to consider anything drastic. Please understand.”
“Absolutely. Take all the time you need.”
A wonderful changed man, or a con artist? I had to wonder; I was so damn confused.
A few days after Sasha’s funeral, I found a bulky envelope in my mailbox addressed to me. Gingerly, I pulled it out, opened it, and gasped. In it was two thousand dollars in cash.
I whirled around to see if anyone was watching me, then quickly shoved the money into my bag. It was Tom, I was sure. He was helping me out. Trying hard not to think about his ulterior motives, I decided to say nothing. With Bear’s credit card gone, I really needed money, so…
****
Culpable homicide. That was what I was charged with. I nodded and pleaded guilty. I had this incessant need to pay for my negligence. My way of righting my horrendous wrong. I was responsible for my baby’s death, and I wasn’t shirking that.
I needed to pay. I needed to bleed, then only would Sasha be avenged for my part in her death. Twisted way of thinking, but…
My dilemma was Warren. If I went to prison, what would become of him? He was just five, and a battered five-year-old at that, thanks to his authoritarian father who ruled with an iron fist and iron foot. After Sasha’s death, Warren became very clingy and slept with me.
Tom said that he had changed, but I knew that nobody changed overnight. I worried about Warren – stressed about leaving him with Tom.
When Tom heard that I was being charged with culpable homicide, he rushed to the police station, appearing distraught as hell. He secured me a lawyer right away – one of Sydney’s finest.
“She’s a good mother,” he protested. “She’d never do anything to harm her kids. Okay, sure, we had our problems, but as a mother, I cannot fault her. Absolutely not.”
He went on to urge the police not to charge me.
“I know that you guys, you have a job to do. I respect that, and man…I mean, you guys found the car in less than twenty-four hours, so…I mean, I applaud you. Absolutely applaud you. But my wife…you have to have a heart. She’s a mother who has suffered.”
Even though he was saying all the right things, I wished he wouldn’t call me his wife.
As he ranted and raved about me and what a wonderful mother I was, I watched as the attorney’s defense slowly disintegrated.
Anyway, due to mitigating circumstances, I was sentenced to two years imprisonment, but…with no jail time, just probation. All because of Tom’s attorney, Tom’s pleading with the prosecution, and Tom’s support.
I could be with Warren. I cried with relief.