“I’m talking about you hitting my boy!”
Frank flopped down onto the white plush sofa. “But that wasn’t me, Carl. That was you.”
“Are you crazy? I wouldn’t hit my own son,”
“Ah, but that’s not what the neighbors will say. Or anyone else, for that matter.”
“What are you talking about? I was very careful-no one saw me come in.”
“Oh, but you’re wrong, Carl.” He flipped a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. “Everyone saw you come in. Everyone saw you flip out of control, like a drunken madman. Everyone saw you beating your son within an inch of his life.” He glanced pointedly at Bonnie. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the poor lad died from it.”
“I don’t know what you’re babbling about, Frank.” Carl eased toward the front door, taking Tommy with him. “I’m leaving now and Tommy’s going with me. And you’re not going to stop me.”
“It’s true,” Frank said wearily. Another pointed glance at Bonnie. “I’m not going to stop you.”
Carl didn’t know what was going on, but he also knew it would be stupid to stand around trying to figure it out. The smartest thing he could do was make a run for it while he had the chance.
“C’mon, Tommy,” he said. He broke the boy’s embrace but scooped up his hand. “We’re leaving.”
Son in tow, he ran to the front door, threw it open, and ran into the front yard. “Do you feel well enough to run?” he asked Tommy.
Tommy’s head bobbed up and down, but Carl could tell his heart wasn’t in it. They would have to move slowly. Still, they should be able to get away. As long as there wasn’t any interference …
“Stop!”
Carl knew he shouldn’t stop, shouldn’t even look, but he couldn’t help himself. He turned.
Bonnie was standing on the front porch. In the few seconds he had been conversing with Frank, she had totally altered her appearance. Her clothes were torn; her dress was hanging from one shoulder strap and was ripped open in the front. Her makeup was smeared; her hair was a mess. Her face looked wet and bruised.
As if someone had just attacked her. Attacked and beat her.
There was one other alteration in her appearance, one Carl noticed almost immediately.
She was now holding a small handgun. And it was pointed toward his head.
22
“I’m not letting you take Tommy!” Bonnie shouted. Her voice was abnormally loud, and Carl realized it wasn’t for his benefit. She was playing for the larger audience.
“Bonnie,” he whispered. “Don’t do this.”
“I won’t let you hurt him!” she continued, still shouting. “I won’t let you beat him like you did me. Like you’ve beat him so many times before!”
“Bonnie, please.” He pulled Tommy close to him. “I’m begging you.”
“You’ve made us live like slaves, like prisoners. Always in fear of when you might strike again.” It was like she was shouting lines from a play, lines she had practiced and rehearsed in the mirror well ahead of time. “I know if you beat Tommy again, you’ll kill him. I’m his mother, Carl. I can’t let that happen.”
Carl couldn’t think what to do. He felt paralyzed, frozen. If he tried to run, she might shoot him. But if he stayed still, she almost certainly would.
“Don’t try to run off with Tommy,” she said. “I won’t let you take him. I won’t let you hide him away somewhere and kill him slowly.”
That was it, Carl realized. It was like a cue. She wanted him to run, so she’d have an excuse for shooting him. Well, he wouldn’t give it to her. If she was going to shoot him, it was going to have to be in cold blood. With a stationary target.
“I just hope you haven’t killed Tommy already,” she continued, still blasting out each word. “He’s hurt so bad.”
Carl squeezed Tommy closer to him. “Bonnie-no!”
Bonnie held the gun out at the farthest extreme with both hands. “I’m sorry it has to be this way, Carl. But I can’t let this go on. I won’t let you kill me. I won’t let you kill Tommy.”
It was coming now. Carl could feel it. He could sense that the dialogue had ended and the time had come for action.
He looked down at his son. “I love you, Tommy,” he whispered. “I always have. Always will.”
“Carl, no!” Bonnie shouted for the benefit of the invisible audience. “I won’t let you hurt him! I won’t let you!”
He could see her hands tightening, see the tiny bones in her hand flexing around the trigger. It seemed she’d reached the end of the script.
He closed his eyes and waited for the end to come.
Megan surveyed the tableau in the space of a heartbeat. She might not understand all the details, but she certainly comprehended the main event. Bonnie was pointing a gun at Carl, tensing up to shoot.
Megan didn’t stop to ask questions. She flung herself against Bonnie, tackling her like a tight end sacking a quarterback. They both crashed to the ground, but Bonnie was on the bottom and she took the worst of it. Megan heard a loud exhalation in her ear and knew that she’d at least knocked the wind out of the woman.
Unfortunately, Bonnie was down but not out. She reached up with her gun hand and clubbed Megan on the top of her head. The hard metal dug into her scalp, cutting a jagged dent in the left side. Megan could feel blood rising to the surface.
Megan gritted her teeth and pushed Bonnie’s arm away. Her brain was racing. What should she do next? Somehow, hand-to-hand combat had never been covered back at seminary. She had to try whatever first came to mind, whatever was available.
Bonnie’s head was just beyond Megan’s knees. She grabbed Bonnie’s head and slammed it back against the ground.
That seemed to take the woman for a loop. Her eyes rolled back and the lids fluttered.
Megan moved fast while she had some slight advantage. She lifted one leg back and drove her knee into the woman’s solar plexus.
Bonnie let out an “oof!” and all at once the fight went out of her body. Unfortunately, she was still holding the gun. Megan crawled across Bonnie’s body and clamped down on her arm, just below the wrist. She raised it up and down, pounding it against the hard wet grass. After several poundings, the gun spilled out of her hand.
Carl rushed forward, kicking the gun away. “Thank God you arrived. Another second and she would’ve-”
“Yeah, I saw.” Megan rolled Bonnie over and pinned her arms behind her back. She was beginning to stir; Megan wanted to make sure she was in no condition to struggle. “Lucky timing.”
“Lucky?” Carl shook his head. “More like a miracle.”
Miracle? Megan looked up at him, but at that moment, she heard the sirens of police cars wailing up the residential street. “Let me talk to them,” Megan said. “I don’t understand this mess perfectly, but I probably understand it better than you.”
“No contest.”
Megan glanced down at the bundle of flesh she was sitting on. “Make sure your ex-wife doesn’t go anywhere, okay?”
Carl grabbed Bonnie’s wrists. “It’ll be a pleasure.”
After what seemed like an eternity, Megan returned to Carl. The police had taken Bonnie out of his custody; he was sitting on the front porch steps now, waiting to hear what lay in his future. If he had a future.
“Well, I think I got that straightened out for the time being, anyway,” Megan said. She sat beside him on the porch step.
“You mean they believed you?”
Megan nodded. “I made them call their ballistics expert.” She gestured toward the police officers, now returning to their cars with Bonnie. “And the coroner-the man who examined your arm wound. Both of them had evidence that backed up my story and made the police realize what Bonnie and Frank were doing.”
“Then I’m off the hook?”
“Well, let’s not go overboard. There’s still the matter of the neighbor you injured. The house breaking. The escape from custody. But there are also some keenly mitigating circumstances. It’ll be a while before the cops have finished their investigation. I promised you wouldn’t leave town.”