Midnight Before Christmas (6 page)

Speaking of miracles, Jasper had finally settled down in the corner of her office. When she had first come in with Bonnie and Tommy, he had gone into attack mode. What exactly he thought he was going to do to them wasn’t clear—drool them to death, maybe. At any rate, Megan had fed him, calmed him, and hooked his leash around her desk lamp. For the moment, he seemed content. When the occasional inevitable expulsions of gas were released, Bonnie simply pretended she hadn’t heard. And Tommy … well, it was nice to finally see the boy crack a smile.

“I’ve talked to the police,” Megan explained. Bonnie and Tommy were sharing a chair on the opposite side of the desk in her small office. “They’ve taken the food from the Chinese restaurant. They’re going to run tests to see if”—she glanced quickly at Tommy—“well, you know.”

Bonnie nodded. “I already know. I could see it the moment I looked into Carl’s eyes.”

“Well, after the tests, we’ll know for sure. I also gave them Carl’s license-plate number, and they, promised to broadcast it to all the patrol cars in the area.”

“Then they should pick him up soon,” Bonnie said. “Lock him away. Make sure he doesn’t try anything again.”

“We can hope.” Megan wasn’t sure how to play it. She didn’t want to destroy the tiny bit of hope in Bonnie’s eyes. At the same time, it could be disastrous to lull her into a false sense of security. “The fact is, there’s going to be a lot of traffic on the streets today, and the police can’t possibly check everyone. Plus, I’m almost certain Carl saw me take down the license-plate number. He may be smart enough to ditch the truck.”

Bonnie agreed. “He may be drunk and desperate, but he isn’t stupid.”

“That was my impression as well.” Megan tried to lift the sudden gloom that had descended. “Still, the important thing is, you’ve got Tommy back. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t be able to have a very merry Christmas.” She tried to put as much enthusiasm into this pronouncement as possible, but she observed very little change in Bonnie’s demeanor. “The most important thing is, you’re all safe.”

“But for how long?” Bonnie asked. “I want a restraining order.”

“Definitely.” Megan glanced at her notepad. “And we’re appearing before the emergency domestic judge in forty-five minutes. Given what I know, and what the police have on record, it should be a cinch. And after we serve notice on Carl and have a formal hearing, I see no problem with getting a permanent restraining order.”

“Good. I don’t want Carl near us. I don’t want him anywhere in a ten-mile radius.”

“You know, Bonnie …” Megan fingered the edge of her desk. It seemed she had nothing to bring but bad tidings this Christmas. But as an attorney, she had obligations—like the unpleasant duty to give her client a healthy dose of reality. “We’ll get the restraining order. But when all is said and done, an order is just a piece of paper. Like any other law, it can be broken. Ultimately, it’s only as effective as the police who enforce it.”

“The police won’t lift a finger against Carl.”

“I’m not sure I believe that, Bonnie. Especially not now. But you should realize that if Carl really is desperate—a piece of paper isn’t going to stop him.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I wouldn’t necessarily stop with the restraining order. Maybe consider buying a big dog. A Doberman pinscher might slow Carl down.”

“I can’t do that.” She pulled her boy closer to her. “Not with Tommy in the house.”

“Perhaps a high-grade security system.”

“We can’t begin to afford that.”

“Well, you need to do something. At least until Carl is safely behind bars.”

Bonnie nodded, but Megan wasn’t sure how much of this was sinking in. Bonnie was so overwhelmed with relief at having Tommy back, she didn’t seem able to process any additional information.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Bonnie asked, after a bit. “It … maybe personal.”

Megan’s brow creased. She hadn’t anticipated this. “Can’t hurt to ask.”

“You seem … very professional,” she said haltingly. “Very lawyerly.”

“Well, I try,” Megan said, adjusting the collar on her gray skirt-suit.

“Everything in this office is just about as I would expect it to be. With two exceptions. First, this.” She lifted the end ball bearing of Megan’s new desk toy and let it slam into the rest of the ball bearings.

“That was a gift from my buddy Cindy. Sort of.” Megan grabbed the toy and dropped it into her oversize purse. “Maybe I’ll give it to some needy person. Very needy.”

“And the other anomaly,” Bonnie continued, “is this.” She pivoted slightly, then pointed to the long row of ceramic Kewpie dolls lined up on a shelf just over Megan’s law books. “What’s the story with the dolls?”

Megan smiled. “My mother made those. She took a ceramics class at OCU about a million years ago. Learned how to paint them, bake them in a kiln. For years afterward, she gave them to me as presents. I have a bunch more at home.”

“I would never have guessed there was such a … wide variety of Kewpie dolls.”

Megan laughed. “Or wanted to, right?” She walked over to the shelf. Each of the figures seemed to have the same wide, big-eyed face, with different apparel suggesting various locales. “Mother was a world traveler. She never had much money, but what little she could scrape together, she used to travel. When I was little, whenever she was getting ready to go away on a big trip, she would give me a present—one of these dolls.”

Megan pointed to a well-tanned Kewpie on the top shelf wearing a hula skirt. “For instance, just before she left for two weeks in Hawaii, she gave me this hula one.” She moved her finger down the row to a parka-wrapped figurine. “Sometimes she wrapped them up and left them for me to find after she was gone. A few days after she departed for her big cruise around Alaska, I found this furry Eskimo doll.” She laughed. “Pretty cheesy, I know. But when I was a girl, I loved them. Actually, I still do.”

“Your mother sounds like a sweet woman,” Bonnie replied. “Does she live here in Oklahoma City?”

“Uh, no.” Megan looked down abruptly. “She’s … gone. Died not two months ago.”

“Oh no. I’m so sorry.”

Megan waved away the sympathy. She didn’t want it. “It’s all right. It was a long time coming.”

“Had she been … very ill?”

Megan shrugged uncomfortably. “In a way. She was—” She took a deep breath. “She was in the Murrah building. The day the bomb exploded.”

“Oh, my God.” Bonnie’s eyes widened with the memory of that tragic day. “Was she—?”

“She worked for the Social Security Administration, on one of the upper levels. Her floor collapsed, smashing down on everything and everyone beneath. She was trapped under the rubble for more than ten hours.”

Bonnie’s chin dropped.

“All that time she lay helpless, pinioned, alone, trapped under the remains of her desk, listening to the sounds of her closest friends shrieking and crying. Dying.” Megan lowered herself into a chair. “She was never the same after that. Physically, she recovered. But inside … never.”

Bonnie shook her head, as if groping for something to say when there was simply nothing that could be said. “You must have been a great comfort to her, Megan. At least she had someone to talk to. Someone to help her through it. A daughter and a capable lawyer rolled into one.”

Megan’s face remained impassive. “Well, I wasn’t a lawyer at the time. It was only after …” She stopped. There was no point in trying to explain. And no point in detailing those last dreadful months her mother spent in the hospital, so long and torturous that finally she told Megan she was ready to die. But Megan wasn’t ready to let her go. She came to the hospital every day, begging her mother to hold on. Until finally, about two months ago, her mother called for her. But by the time Megan arrived at the hospital, her mother was gone.

No, she thought silently. There was definitely no point in going into all that.

She pushed herself back to her feet. “Anyway, let me prepare you for—”

A knock at the door interrupted her. “Got a call from the courthouse,” Cindy said to Megan. “You’re on in thirty minutes.”

“Great.” Megan grabbed her briefcase and her shoulder bag. She gestured toward Bonnie. “I’ll clue you in on the way to court.”

Cindy started back out the door. “I’m off to shop till I drop. I really appreciate this.”

“Don’t worry. You’d do the same for me.”

“It’s still not too late,” Cindy said. “We won’t leave for Tulsa till five or so. If you’d like to join us—”

“No.” Megan held up her hand. “Thanks, but I don’t belong there. You have a great time.”

“But who will you spend Christmas—”

“Please.” Megan gently nudged her out of the doorway. “Enjoy yourselves. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Cindy replied, but Megan couldn’t help but detect the note of sadness, of sympathy, in her voice. Exactly what she didn’t want to hear.

“Come on then,” Megan said, gathering Bonnie and Tommy. “We don’t want to keep the judge waiting.”

She ushered them out of the office. As she closed the office door, her eyes lighted once more on the row of Kewpie dolls on the back shelf. So many dolls representing so many excursions. So many years.

The truth is, after a while, she had gotten sick of the silly things. She had treated them scornfully, even made jokes to her friends about these stupid ugly dolls her mother kept making for her.

And now everything was different, wasn’t it? Now, if she could have any Christmas gift in the whole wide world, she would wish for one more Kewpie doll.

From her mother.

Carl staggered down the streets of downtown Oklahoma City, wondering what to do next. In the past hour or so the sky had clouded up and it had become bitter cold. He crossed Robinson, then headed toward the Liberty Bank building. He had no idea what he would do there, but at least he could step in the alcove where they kept the ATM machines. That was still open. He pushed through the swinging glass door, shivering. He wasn’t dressed for this kind of weather. The wind was bracing, unforgiving, especially downtown. OKC was a windy city, even windier than Chicago. Most people didn’t know that, but Carl did. Especially today, when every burst of cold air made him catch his breath. Worst of all, the cold seemed to exacerbate the aching in his arm. It had been different when he was with Tommy. Then he had focused all his attention on pleasing the boy, trying to make him happy. He had tried to forget about the pain, tried to forget about the deep gash that had practically torn his arm in half, but it wouldn’t let him. The bleeding had stopped, thank God, but the pain hadn’t.

He rolled up his sleeve and looked at it. It had matted into an ugly black mess. He wondered: could he get gangrene? Did people still die of things like that? He didn’t know. He probably needed to have this looked at. But frankly, that wasn’t an option at the moment. He had more urgent business.

As soon as he had gotten away from The Snow Pea, and he was certain no one was following him, he had ditched the truck. He didn’t know who the woman in the suit was, but he saw her write down his license-plate number. He could be absolutely certain the police had it by now. They’d be looking for him. From here on out, he had to make his way on foot.

Make his way where? That was the killing question. He had to get to Tommy, had to get him back. But how? He could be certain now that Bonnie wouldn’t let him out of her sight. What was he going to do?

He needed inspiration. And the only way he knew to find inspiration was …

He pushed himself through the glass door, reentering the bracing cold. Yes! There it was, just down Main. Tony’s Bar and Grill, except there was no grill, not that he’d ever noticed anyway. He used to be a regular, before he joined the force and—

Well, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t welcome at Joe’s anymore, but no one at Tony’s had a grudge against him. Not that he knew, anyway. And hallelujah! The place appeared to be open.

He pushed through the door, feeling the sudden rush of warmth and comfort. The smell of alcohol was thick in the air and it pleased him.

Maybe there were Christmas spirits, after all. He laughed. Maybe they were the kind of spirits you found in a bottle.

He sidled up to the bar and ordered. He felt better already. The pain was subsiding, his head was clearing, and ideas were flashing. Just another drink or two. Maybe three. Four at the most.

And then he felt confident he would know what to do next.

M
EGAN HAD THOUGHT THAT
perhaps, this being Christmas Eve, and everyone on earth having Christmassy activities to attend to, the county courthouse would be deserted. Wrong.

The courthouse was packed. Only one courtroom in the Family Division was open, only one judge was on duty, and roughly fifty billion people were jockeying for her attention. The small waiting room outside was jam-packed with mothers, fathers, and unhappy children who wanted to be anywhere but here on Christmas Eve. And of course each of them had a lawyer. Maybe two.

In short, it was a madhouse.

Megan found two seats in a relatively quiet corner and tucked Bonnie and Tommy away there. Before she had a chance to find a seat herself, her cell phone buzzed.

She pulled the phone out of her shoulder bag and flipped it open. “Megan McGee.”

“This is Barney Palmer, over at the police station. Toxicology.”

Megan glanced at Tommy out the corner of her eye. He was talking to his mother, unaware of what Megan was saying or doing.

She took a subtle step away and pressed the phone close against her ear. “Have you had a chance to test the food sample the police brought in?”

“Oh, yes. It’s not a time-consuming process. Especially not with such a plentiful sample. Sergeant Conner asked me to phone you the results. I can fax a copy of the report to your office.”

“That would be wonderful. But can you tell me over the phone?”

“You mean, the results?”

“Right. Was the food poisoned?”

She listened to several moments of staticky air. “I’m really not supposed to give this information out over the phone, but”—his voice dropped to a shadow of what it had been before—“the test was positive.”