Midnight Before Christmas (9 page)

“For now,” Bonnie answered. She threw herself across the bed. “They’ll be back day after tomorrow. And I’m supposed to go in and fill out some forms. File a formal complaint.”

“I’ve got a few complaints myself,” he said, drawing a line with his finger down the curve of her neck, across the soft curve of her shoulders. “And Carl?”

“He’s fine, more or less.” Her voice acquired an edge. “You got him in the arm, and only barely that. Just a flesh wound, as they say in the westerns. It was the shock that made him collapse, not the wound.”

“You’re joking.”

“’Fraid not, lover boy” She rolled over to face him. “’Course, the police are planning to arrest him as soon as he’s able to move. They’re going to charge him with assault and battery, resisting arrest, violating a restraining order. He’ll do some time, no doubt about it.”

Frank’s teeth ground tightly together. “That isn’t good enough.”

“I’m aware of that, Frank.”

“Jail time gets us nothing. He has to die.”

“I’m aware of that, too, Frank. Are you blaming me?”

“It was your plan.”

“It was your hand on the gun!” She sat upright. “You told me you could shoot!”

“I can shoot.”

“Meaning, I guess, that you can pull a trigger. But you couldn’t hit a man barely six feet away.”

“For your information, it’s hard to hit a moving target.”

“He was moving toward you, Frank. Tommy could’ve hit him.”

“Then maybe you ought to let him!” His voice swelled. “You can’t leave him at his friend’s house forever, Mommie Dearest. Why don’t you pick him up and ask if he’d like to shoot his father for you? Since you don’t have the balls to do it yourself!”

“Frank, don’t be angry—”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you! The man has to die, or this was all for nothing.”

“Frank—”

“Sometimes I can’t tell what you want.”

“I want to be with you, Frank. I want what you want.”

“That’s not how it sounded to me.”

Bonnie closed her eyes and swallowed. She had miscalculated, she realized, had pushed him too far. Now she was in danger of losing him. And she couldn’t allow that to happen. She still needed him. “Frank, please calm down. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean what?”

She laid her hands gently on his shoulders and began softly kissing his neck. “I didn’t mean to blame you,” she said between kisses. She knew she had to retreat, stroke him, bring him back to the game plan. “It’s just so difficult. You know how much I lust after you.”

“Yeah, right,” Frank replied, but his voice was softening. “Me and the three million bucks.”

“It’s you I want,” she said, using her most seductive voice. “I want you right now.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Frank said, but he didn’t push her away “We have work to do. When do you think Carl will be out of the hospital?”

“Soon.” She continued kissing, making her way to his head, nibbling his earlobe. “Like I said, the injury was minor.”

“But as soon as he’s discharged, the police will lock him away. And then we’ll never be able to get to him. Unless we can figure out some way for him to escape.”

“Escape?” she whispered, blowing gently into his ear. “Is that wise?”

“It’s the only chance we have. If they get him back into custody, we have no chance.”

“I see.” She was snuggling closer, pressing herself up against him. “You’re so smart, Frank. So damn smart.”

“Once he’s free, we can lure him back to the house and finish what we started this afternoon.”

“Is that possible?” She wrapped her right leg around him and squeezed. “He may be a drunk, but he isn’t stupid. He’ll never come back here after what happened today. No matter what crock I feed him over the telephone.”

“He probably won’t come back for you, true.” Frank’s hands were beginning to move, smoothing the curves of her body, searching for his favorite soft spots. “But you’re not the only ace in the hole we have with that idiot. He’ll come. And as soon as he does—” He raised his voice and adopted a near dead-on facsimile of Bonnie’s voice. “I didn’t know what to do, Officer. He was acting crazy, threatening me, hurting the boy. I had to shoot.”

“Hey, that’s pretty good,” Bonnie said. “I had no idea you were so talented.”

“Darling, you haven’t even scratched my surface yet.”

“But even if you do manage to set Carl up, won’t everyone else be suspicious? The neighbors, the police? If he comes here again, even the cops might begin to suspect a frame.”

“Not if they see him beating the kid.”

“But Carl? He would never—”

“Trust me, dear. I can arrange everything.”

“You are so bad.” She pressed herself forward, jerking his shirt free of his pants, unfastening the buttons. “And you’re so sexy when you’re bad.”

Frank smiled, wrapped his arms around her, and rolled her over. A moment later their minds were on a different subject altogether.

“L
OOK, LADY, IF YOU’RE
not his wife or kid or close relative, you’re not getting in to see him.”

“But it’s very important.”

“There are cops on duty.”

“I’ve spoken to them. They said if I could get your okay, they’d let me in.”

“But you don’t have my okay.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

Megan pressed her hand against her brow. She hated bureaucracy. There was nothing worse. She had always thought that courthouse protocol was the most abysmal, but she was beginning to alter her opinion in favor of hospitals.

For fifteen minutes now, she’d been trying to get in to see Carl Cantrell, but she’d come smack-dab up against the Iron Maiden of nurse-receptionists. Normally she tried to stay as far away from child-napping poisoners as possible, especially when they were on the other side of a case. But she had business reasons for wanting to get in there. It wouldn’t take long. It would be over in minutes. If she could just get Nurse Ratched here to give her the thumbs up.

“Look,” Megan implored, “this is critical. A woman’s life may be in danger. And that of her son.”

“Because you can’t get in to see a patient? I don’t think so, honey.”

Megan drew herself up. “I want to take this up with your superior.”

“Good luck finding my superior. Or my inferior, either. Lady, do you not understand that this is Christmas Eve?”

“I don’t see what—”

“Most people are at home with their families. We’re on a skeleton staff here, barely enough people to keep the place running.”

“Nonetheless—”

“I’ve been on duty since four
A.M.,
and won’t get to go home until midnight. I’ve had no relief, no coffee breaks. No chance to lie down and take a nap. I haven’t even had a chance to brush my teeth. My breath smells like death warmed over—”

“Lucky I happened by.” Megan opened her shoulder bag and rummaged around until she found the bottle of mouthwash she’d gotten from the woman at the courthouse. “Duck into the bathroom and have yourself a gargle.”

“You carry jumbo-size mouthwash in your purse?” Her eyes narrowed. “What are you, some kind of bag lady?”

“It was a Christmas present.”

“Some friends you got.”

“It was—you know—a joke. From an office party.”

“Oh, right.” Her stern exterior softened a bit. “I got one of those, too.” She reached down to the shelf beneath her station, then plopped a hardcover book onto the counter, “This was mine.”

Megan read the dust jacket.
How to Catch and Keep the Mate of Your Dreams.
“Well, that was very … thoughtful.”

“Yeah, right. A friendly commentary on my winning personality.” She grasped the big green bottle. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll take the mouthwash. You keep the book.”

“Deal,” Megan said, looking up expectantly. “And …”

“I suppose it’ll be all right if you go in there. But don’t stay too long. I don’t wanna get in trouble.”

“Understood. I’ll be brief.”

The nurse raised the mouthwash bottle and made a little salute. “Merry Christmas.”

Megan smiled back. “Ho, ho, ho.”

After the receptionist gave them the high sign, the two cops on duty outside the hospital room waved Megan through.

He was sitting upright in bed, eyes open wide. Megan was startled. She halted, staring at him. Somehow, in her mind’s eye she had imagined he would be sleeping or drugged or hooked up to a million tubes or otherwise incapacitated. Instead, he looked little different from when she had seen him in the restaurant, except that his right arm was bandaged and in a sling. Nonetheless, he looked as if he might leap out at her at any moment.

Megan felt her mouth go dry. In her days as a priest, she had been forced to spend time with all kinds of unsavory characters. But she couldn’t think of an instance when she’d been this close to a killer. This close to someone who had cold-bloodedly tried to murder his own son.

“You were at The Snow Pea,” Carl said, breaking the silence.

“That’s right. I was.”

“Who are you, anyway?” His lips curled a bit. “One of Bonnie’s friends, I suppose.”

“That’s, um, right.” Megan cleared her throat. “Actually, I’m her attorney.”

“You’re not the chump who got her divorced.”

“No, I’m … new.”

“Wonderful. And to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

Megan wished she had a glass of water. Her throat was so parched she could barely speak. “I’m glad to hear you’re going to be all right. They told me the bullet didn’t do any permanent damage. That the previous wound to your arm did more damage than the bullet.”

“Your concern is touching, but if you’re here on some obnoxious errand for Bonnie, I’d just as soon you got it over with.”

“As you wish.” Megan edged forward, just close enough that she could touch the edge of the bed, then pulled two thrice-folded documents out of her purse. “This is a copy of the restraining order that was issued today by Judge Harris. It orders you to stay away from your wife, your son, and their home.”

“Ain’t that swell. Anything else?”

“Yes.” She tossed the other document on his bed. “This is to serve notice on you that a hearing has been set for the fifteenth day of January next year, at which time the judge will decide whether to make the order permanent. You can read the details in the notice. I must tell you, though, that if you decide not to attend the hearing, in all probability the order will be granted by default.”

“Thanks so much.” He stared down at the papers on the bed, but didn’t touch either of them.

Megan was puzzled. He seemed bitter, yes, but he was not hostile or belligerent. There was nothing threatening or evil about him. She realized that in the perhaps one minute she’d been in the room with him, her fear had melted away and been replaced by a different sentiment altogether.

She was feeling sorry for him.

“Carl, how—how did this mess get started?”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning … I don’t know. The threats. The fighting. All this unhappiness.”

Carl looked away. “Why do you want to know? Is this some trick to improve Bonnie’s case against me?”

“No. It’s nothing to do with that. I just …” Her voice faded. “I don’t know. I was just curious. And I thought you might like to talk to someone.”

“Even if I did, it wouldn’t be you. You don’t strike me as the listening type.”

“Really?” Megan couldn’t explain why, but for some reason she wanted to understand this man. Something about the whole situation was beginning to trouble her. “I used to spend most of my time listening. People seemed to think I was pretty good at it.”

“Why on earth would you want to listen to people? Were you getting paid by the hour?”

“This was before I was a lawyer. I was a priest.”

“A—” He turned his head and did a double take. “A priest? But you’re—”

“Yes?”

Carl’s voice dropped a notch. “You’re a woman.”

“Thanks!”

“I mean, I didn’t know there were female priests. ’Cept maybe in China or something.”

Megan bit back her grin. “You’ve been away from church too long, Carl. The Episcopal church has ordained female priests for a good many years now. I wasn’t even one of the first.”

“Wow. Sorry, my parents were Southern Baptists. I didn’t know.” He looked up at her again. “And does that mean—”

Megan had seen the look before; she knew where the conversation was going. “Episcopal priests are allowed to marry.”

“Really?” For the moment, at least, he seemed to have forgotten his own problems. “So when’d you give up being a priest?”

Megan’s eyes darkened. “April 19, 1995.” She smoothed a wrinkle in her skirt. “Oh, I didn’t stop that very day. But that’s when it was all over for me. That’s when I lost my faith.”

“That’s the day the Murrah building was bombed, isn’t it?”

Megan nodded grimly. “My mother was in the building, working in the Social Security office. She was trapped in the wreckage for hours, bleeding, in pain. Listening to the agonized cries of her friends. She survived, but then again, not really.” Her head dropped. “She was never the same.”

“And you stopped being a priest after that?”

“It’s hard to explain. I mean, it sounds so trite in a way. I certainly wasn’t a stranger to tragedy. I saw it every day as a priest. I saw it happen to other people, that is. But never to me.” She brushed her hair back, looked away. “Mother recovered her strength, but not her spirit.”

“Where were you when the bomb exploded?”

“At St. Paul’s. That’s where I worked. The cathedral is a block away from the Murrah building, but it was still ruined. All that beautiful stained glass—shattered. A shining testament to faith destroyed. In the blink of an eye.” She rubbed her face furiously. “And all because some poorly educated zealots—some supposed Christians with an axe to grind—decided they had the right to ruin hundreds of lives.” She bit down on her lower lip. “Well, if something like that could happen … it was very difficult for me to believe there really was a God. Or if there was a God, and he would allow that to happen… well, then I didn’t want to be one of his priests.”

Carl stared at the floor. “My mom died. Almost ten years now.” He lifted his head. “You still miss her?”

Megan’s eyes met his. “Every day.”