I sigh, and move to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Because they knew it would hurt you like this, Alan."
His head snaps up, eyes filled with fire. "I want these fuckers so bad."
"I know." Boy, do I. "Listen, Alan. I know it probably won't help . . . but I don't think Elaina's in any physical danger from Jack Jr. and company, at least not right now. I don't think that's the purpose of this."
"What makes you say that?"
I shake my head, thinking about what Callie had said earlier today.
"This is a part of their game. They want us to hunt them. And they wants us at our best. To give us a personal stake in this."
His face grows grim. "It's working."
I nod. "No shit."
He leans back, sighs. The sigh is belly-deep and full of sadness. He looks up at me, eyes pleading. "Can you go up and see her?"
I touch his shoulder. "Of course I can."
I dread it, but of course I can.
I knock on the bedroom door, open it, and peek my head in. Elaina is lying on her side, back to me. Bonnie is sitting next to her, stroking her hair. Bonnie looks at me as I enter, and I stop. Her eyes are full of fury. We stare at each other for a moment, and I nod in understanding. They'd hurt her Elaina. She was mad.
I move around the bed, sitting down on its edge. The memory of the hospital flies into my mind. Elaina's eyes are open, staring off at nothing. Her face is puffy from tears. "Hey," I say. She glances up at me. Goes back to looking at nothing. Bonnie keeps stroking her hair.
"Do you know what upsets me the most, Smoky?" she says, breaking the silence.
"No. Tell me."
"That Alan and I never had children. We tried and tried and tried, but it just never happened. Now I'm too old, and I have to deal with cancer." She closes her eyes, opens them. "And this man gets to invade our lives. Gets to laugh at us. At me. Make me afraid."
"That's what he's trying to do."
"Yes. And it worked." Silence. "I would have made a good mom, don't you think, Smoky?"
My face twists. I'm horrified by the depth of Elaina's pain. It's Bonnie who answers her question. She taps on Elaina's shoulder, and Elaina turns her head to look at her. Bonnie makes sure she's watching, and then she nods.
Yes, she's saying. You would have made a wonderful mom. Elaina's eyes go soft. She reaches out to touch Bonnie's face. "Thank you, sweetheart." Silence. She looks at me. "Why is he doing this, Smoky?"
Why did he do it, why is he doing it, why did this happen? Why my daughter, my son, my husband, my wife? This is the unending question from victims. "The short answer is that he likes hurting you, Elaina. That's the simple motivation. The other side of it is that he knows it'll make Alan afraid. That makes him feel powerful. And he likes that very much."
Of course, I know there isn't really a good answer to that unending question. Why me? I'm a good mother/father/brother/daughter/son. I keep my head down, do my best. Sure, I lie a little, but I tell the truth more than I lie, and I love the people in my life the best I can. I try to do more right than wrong, and I'm happier when there are more smiles than pain. I'm no hero; I'm not going to end up in any history books. But I'm here, and I matter. So why me?
I can't tell them what I really think. Why? Because you breathe and walk, and because evil does exist. Because the cosmic dice were rolled and you came up short. God either forgot about you that day, or it's a part of His master plan, pick your belief. The truth is, bad things are going to happen somewhere, every single day, and today was just your turn. Some people might call that a bleak or cynical outlook. To me, it's what keeps me sane. Otherwise you start thinking that maybe it's the bad guys who have the edge. I prefer to think, Nope. No edge. The simple fact is that evil preys on good, and today, good had a bad day. Which brings with it an acceptance of the other side of that argument, that tomorrow might be evil's turn for some rain. And that's called hope. None of this is helpful when they ask why, so I tell them some lesser truth like the one that I just gave Elaina. Sometimes it eases their pain, sometimes it doesn't. Usually it doesn't, because the fact is, if you have to ask the question, then you don't really care about the answer. She mulls this over. When she looks back at me, I see an unfamiliar emotion on her face. Anger. "Get this man, Smoky. Do you hear me?"
I swallow. "Yeah."
"Good. I know you will." She sits up. "Now, can you do me a favor?"
"Anything." I mean it. If she asked me to pull a star down from the sky right now, I'd do my best.
"Tell Alan to come up here when you go down. I know him. He's sitting there blaming himself. Tell him to knock it off. I need him."
Shaken but back as strong as ever. I realize afresh something I've known for a long time: I love this woman. "I will." I turn to Bonnie.
"Let's go, sweetheart."
She shakes her head. No. Pats a hand on Elaina's shoulder, then grips it, possessive. I frown. "Honey, I think we need to leave Elaina and Alan alone tonight."
She shakes her head again, fierce now. No way, Jose.
"It would be fine with me for her to stay, if you don't mind. Bonnie's lovely."
I look at Elaina, dumbfounded. "Are you sure?"
She reaches over, strokes Bonnie's hair. "I'm sure."
"Well . . . okay." Besides, I think to myself, it would take a miracle to pry her away from Elaina right now. "Then I'll go. Bonnie, I'll come see you in the morning, honey."
She nods. I head out the door, turn as I hear small footsteps behind me. Bonnie has gotten off the bed and is looking up at me. She snags my arm, pulls me down to her level. Her face is filled with concern.
"What, honey?"
She pats herself, reaches over and pats me. Does this again, insistent. And again, the concern growing on her face. Then I get it. It makes my face flush, my eyes prick with tears. I'm with you, she's saying. I'm only staying here to help Elaina. But I'm with you. She wants to make sure I understand. Yes, Elaina is Mom. But I'm with you.
I don't speak. Instead, I nod in reply and hug her to me before leaving the room. Downstairs, Alan is standing and staring out the window at the coming dusk.
"She's going to be okay, Alan. She wanted me to tell you to stop blaming yourself and that she needs you. Oh, and you have Bonnie for tonight. She refused to leave Elaina."
This seems to perk him up. "Really?"
"Uh-huh. She's being very protective." I poke him in the chest. "You know I sympathize, Alan. You know I do. But you need to get your ass up there and hug your wife." I smile. "Bonnie's got your back."
"Yeah," he says, after a space of time. "You're right. Thanks."
"No problem. And, Alan? If you need time off tomorrow, take it."
His face is somber. "No fucking way, Smoky. They got what they wanted. I'm after those motherfuckers till they're caught or dead." He smiles, and this time, it's a scary smile. "I think they're going to get more than they bargained for."
"Damn right," I reply.
30
THE DRIVE BACK feels lonely. Keenan and Shantz are where they should be, with Bonnie, so I really am alone. It's dark out, and highways at night have a distinct, isolated feel to them. At times in my life this has been a welcome feeling. This isolation is filled with angry thoughts, sadness, and me gripping the steering wheel, imagining it's Jack Jr.'s neck. The moon shines strong. Somewhere in me, I know it's a beautiful light. Tonight, it reminds me of the times I've seen blood pooled in the moonlight. Black and reflective and final.