CARL 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.