Midnight Before Christmas (8 page)

“Oh, yes. Oh, yes.” He lowered her feet gently to the sofa, then reached across the end table to his black tote bag. Carefully he removed the sturdy wooden box inside, opened it, and took out the shiny silver pistol resting inside.

He checked to make sure it was loaded. “Very ready.”

Bonnie stretched out, her face settling into a happy smile. “That’s good,” she said, curling up like a kitten on the overstuffed cushions. “After all, I did promise the man a Christmas surprise.” She began to laugh. “And boy, is he ever going to get one.”

C
ARL WAS PRACTICALLY DRIVING
on autopilot as he made his way to Bonnie’s house. The sky could’ve fallen down around him; he would never have noticed. All he could hear, all he could think about were those last tender words, the words that kept ringing in his ears and wouldn’t stop: “I love you, Carl. I always did.”

He had known she loved him, he thought as he zipped by the state capitol on Lincoln Boulevard. He’d known it. Deep down, she couldn’t have meant all those horrible accusations. It was just a brain fever or something, just an aberration. Now they would get back to how things were supposed to be.

He swerved around the corner of Fifteenth Street, almost lifting the pickup onto two wheels. He wasn’t driving well, he knew that. He’d had too much to drink. Couldn’t see straight and wasn’t thinking clearly, either. But what could he do?

He had to get there. He had to get there. He had to get there.

The words rushed back to him, blocking out all distractions, all reason, all rational thought.

“I love you, Carl. I always did.”

Megan had just about decided to call it a day. She unhooked Jasper’s leash and prepared to haul him home for whatever Christmas they could look forward to when the phone rang.

“He’s coming!” the voice on the phone said before Megan had a chance to say hello.

“Bonnie? Is this you?”

“He’s coming! He’s on his way!”

“Carl? Carl is coming?” She wrapped the leash back around her lamp. “Does he know about the restraining order?”

“He doesn’t care. He says he’s coming to take Tommy away. And he says he’ll kill anyone who gets in his way.”

“Call the police, Bonnie.”

“They won’t come—”

“Bonnie, you listen to me!” Megan put on her most authoritative voice. “Hang up the phone and call the police. They
will
come. You don’t have time to mess around. Call now!”

“All right.”

“I’ll come, too. But you have to call the police. Tommy’s life is in danger. And so is yours!”

Frank brushed his hand around Bonnie’s face, stroking her ears, caressing her chin. “Have I mentioned lately that you’re magnificent?”

“Not as often as you should.” She pushed herself up off the pillows. “I am rather good, though, aren’t I? That little tremor I get in my voice? That broken, halting quality.”

“Positively brilliant. So what are we going to do now?”

Bonnie slipped her hands playfully under his shirt. She stroked his chest. “Like the woman said. I’m going to call the police.”

Carl knew he was taking the curve off Fifteenth Street too fast, but he couldn’t help himself—he wanted to be there so badly! The tires screeched; he left a lot of rubber on the pavement. He swerved to one side and careened into the curb. He whipped the steering wheel around, trying to jackknife the truck back onto the street, but he was too slow. His truck plowed into the corner stop sign before he had even seen it.

He hit the brake and the pickup ground to a halt. Holy mother of—

He checked himself, making sure he was still intact, making sure he hadn’t done any additional damage to himself. Everything seemed to still be attached. Still here. Still alive—

The pickup, however, was trashed. Smoke was rising out of the hood.

Never mind. He didn’t have time for that. He didn’t have time for anything except Bonnie. Bonnie and Tommy. Bonnie and Tommy and Carl, together again.

He popped open the glove box and removed the small service revolver he still had after all these years. Surely he wouldn’t need it, not after everything Bonnie had said. But he wasn’t taking any chances. Not anymore.

He slid out of the pickup cab, landed on his feet. His neck ached. But it didn’t matter. Just didn’t matter.

He could walk from here. Or run. It was barely half a block. He jogged down the side of the street, leaving the wreck behind, ignoring the pain in his neck, his back, his arm. He had to get to her. Had to get there now.

As he approached, a neighbor stepped out of the house next door. Was it the same man he had flattened this morning? Carl wondered. He couldn’t remember. A neighbor was a neighbor, right?

“Now, Carl, I can’t let you go in there.”

Carl, the man had called him—like he knew him or something. Maybe he did—Carl wasn’t sure. His vision was blurred and he was having a hard time making out the lines of the man’s face.

“Why don’t you just leave those nice folks alone?”

He was a big man, this neighbor was, Carl noted. But he knew he could take him. He hadn’t spent all that time at the academy learning exotic self-defense methods for nothing. The man was an obstacle, that’s all. An obstacle between him and his family. And he’d had about as much of those obstacles as he could take.

“Be reasonable, man. It’s time to get on with your life.”

Don’t you see? That’s what I’m
trying
to
do,
Carl thought, but somehow he couldn’t make the words come out. It didn’t matter. This was no time for words.

Carl reared back his fist and aimed a roundhouse punch at the neighbor’s chin. The man ducked, managing to avoid the swing.

“Don’t make me hurt you, Carl. It’s Christmas Eve. I don’t wanna—”

“I will not let you keep me from my family!” Carl bellowed, then charged, gun at the ready. The neighbor turned and ran, looking as if he’d stared Death straight in the eye.

Once he’d chased the man out of the yard, Carl turned back toward the house, propelled by his confusion and rage. “I will not let you keep me from my family!” he shouted, waving his gun in the air.

“Not anyone.
Not anymore!”

Inside the house, Frank and Bonnie crouched beneath the front window.

Frank tossed the pistol absently from one hand to the other. “Is it time?”

Bonnie smiled, then stroked him affectionately. “Not quite yet.”

Megan pushed her car to the limit. She could hear the frame of the old rattletrap Toyota vibrating ominously, but she put it out of her mind. She blitzed down Lincoln Boulevard as quickly as she could, blazing a trail to Bonnie’s house.

As she turned onto Fifteenth, she saw two black-and-white police cars making the same turn just ahead of her. Thank God—the word had gotten through. If Carl was desperate enough to violate the restraining order, to return to the house only hours after that scene this morning, he must’ve lost control, must’ve lost all grip on reality. There was no telling what he might do.

She pushed her little car down the seemingly endless length of Fifteenth Street, just praying that she and the cops got there in time.

Even in the midst of his rage, Carl remembered that she had told him not to come to the door. Wait outside, she had said. I want to surprise Tommy.

Well, here he was. He had fought like a maniac to get here. So where was she?

“Bonnie!” he cried out, but there was no response. “Bonnie!”

He couldn’t bear to wait any longer. He ran up to the front door and began pounding.

“Bonnie!” he shouted, battering the door already splintered by his assault this morning. “Bonnie, I’m here! I’m ready!”

There was still no response. Carl could feel sweat breaking out all over his body, chilling him. He didn’t know how or why, but he had the distinct feeling that his most cherished dream was falling apart before it had ever really begun.

“Bonnie!” he cried. He started moving toward the window when he heard police cars making a beeline down the street. The shrill sirens raised the short hairs on the back of his neck. He knew if they saw him, they’d haul him away. He didn’t have much time.

“Bonnie!
Please!”
Why didn’t she open the door? He couldn’t understand it. He knew she wanted him; she’d told him so. There must be something wrong, some horrible misunderstanding.

The first police car door opened.

“I just want to be with my family!” Carl cried out. His voice dripped with confusion and anguish. “I just want to be with my boy on Christmas Eve!”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” one of the cops said, his voice transformed into a metallic squawk by the electric bullhorn. “Drop the gun.”

“No!”

“You can’t win. We have you surrounded. You cannot escape. And we will not let you enter that house!”

Carl glanced over his shoulder. The cops were out of their cars, three of them now. The doors were out and the officers were crouched behind them, primed and ready to shoot.

He could think of only one thing to do, one last chance. He knew the front bay window was weakened; he’d put his arm through it only this morning. If he hit it at top speed…

“I’m coming, Bonnie!”
He crouched down in a sprinter’s start and flew toward the broken window. He was barely five feet away when a chorus of shots rang out.

Carl stopped in his tracks. He froze up, twitching like a man having a seizure. And then he fell, like a man with no legs, tumbling into a heap on the yellow grass.

S
TILL PEERING THROUGH THE
window, Bonnie couldn’t help but express her amazement. “Nice shooting.”

Frank caressed the hot barrel of his gun. “I aim to please,” he said. “If you’ll pardon the pun.”

Bonnie grinned, then turned her eyes back out toward the front yard. “Next time the cops fire—finish him.”

Megan screeched to a stop just as the shots rang out. No! she thought. I’m too late. I’ve failed her.

She jumped out of the car and ran toward the line of police cars barricading the street. “What’s happening?” she asked, breathless, as she ran up behind them. “Are Bonnie and Tommy all right?”

“Stay back, lady,” one of them growled.

Megan took one look and screamed. “Bonnie!” Ignoring the police, she ran forward, making a beeline for the front door of the house.

“Lady!” one of the cops barked, but Megan kept running. She could see now that Carl was lying in a bloody heap on the grass; she didn’t see how he could possibly do her any harm.

She stopped when she reached the body, then groped stupidly for a pulse.

He was still alive.

“Where the hell did she come from?” Frank growled, lowering his gun. “Who is she?”

“It’s the lawyer!” Bonnie answered. “Damn!” She had expected Megan to come, but not so soon, not spoiling everything.

“I can’t tell if he’s dead!” Frank spat the words out.

Bonnie whirled around, livid. “I know that, idiot.”

“What are we going to do now?” He grabbed her by the arms and shook her. “Tell me that, will you? What are we going to do now?”

Bonnie broke out of his grasp, cursing under her breath. “I’ll think of something.”

“Call an ambulance!” Megan cried. The three cops were moving her way, but one of them ran back to radio for the medics.

Megan stood up, raced toward the window. “Bonnie? Are you in there? Are you all right?”

A few moments later, the front door cracked, open. “Megan?” a subdued voice whispered.

“Bonnie!” Megan ran toward the front door. They fell into each other’s arms at the halfway point.

“Oh, Megan!” Bonnie sobbed. Her face was streaked with tears; her voice was trembling. “I—I was so frightened.”

Megan led her back to sit on the front steps. “What happened?”

Several seconds passed as Bonnie tried to collect herself. “I was so scared. Even worse than before.” She cradled her knees and hugged them close to her. “So scared.”

“What did he do?”

She was breathing in short, broken gasps. “He just showed up, shouting and threatening. Said he was going to kill me. Said he was going to kill us all.”

“What did you do?”

“I called the police, like you said. Thank God they got here quickly. He was crazy, Megan, just crazy. He tried to throw himself through the bay window.”

Megan took Bonnie’s head in her lap and held her tight. “It’s all right, Bonnie. It’s going to be all right. It’s all over now.”

“I—I just wish it hadn’t had to happen like this,” she said, sorrow tinging every syllable. “Poor Carl. What away to go.”

“Don’t worry, Bonnie. He isn’t dead.”

Bonnie’s eyes seemed to contract. “He … isn’t?”

“No. The bullet hit him in the arm. Hurts like hell, I’m sure, but it isn’t life-threatening.”

“You’re—sure?”

“Positive. I doubt if he’ll be in the hospital overnight.”

“Oh, Megan.” She turned her head away. “I can’t tell you what a relief it is to hear that.”

“The important thing is, he’s in custody. And after this stunt, he’s likely to stay that way for a good long time.”

She saw over her shoulder that the police were approaching. They would doubtless have questions of their own. “Bonnie, the police are going to need all the details. Do you want me to stay?”

“Do I need an attorney?”

“Probably not. But I thought you might need … a friend.”

“Oh, that would be—you must have plans.”

“Outside of feeding the dog, no.”

Bonnie hugged Megan close to her. “You’re so good, Megan. So good to me.”

“Nonsense.” Megan stood up and prepared to meet the police. “Least I can do. Especially on Christmas Eve.”

M
ORE THAN TWO HOURS
passed before Bonnie finally saw the last of the police, the medics, the family counselors. Carl was hauled off to St. Anthony’s, Bonnie provided a detailed statement, and Frank remained in the upper bedroom, out of sight.

When finally she had cleared the last of the do-gooders out of the house, Bonnie made her way upstairs. Frank was smoking and watching some abysmal Christmas special, something involving talking animals and snowmen and, of course, Santa Claus.

“All gone?” Frank asked, stubbing his cigarette out in a cup.