Midnight Before Christmas

8

“Please hurry,” Bonnie said. She was practically edging out of the car seat. “I have the worst feeling about this. We have to hurry.”

But Megan did not accelerate. They were negotiating the densely packed parking lot at Quail Springs Mall, and high speed was not an option.

“Don’t you hear me?” Bonnie’s voice was becoming shrill in its desperation. “We have to hurry!”

Megan stopped the car. She had hoped to postpone this discussion as long as possible, but the truth was, Bonnie was practically over the brink. Her fear was making her irrational.

“Bonnie, listen to me. I know how frightened you are. But the fact is, we’ve cruised every parking lot we could think of-”

“Don’t you understand? He’s insane! He’s going to try to kill my Tommy! We have to hurry!”

“Bonnie, listen! There’s no point in hurrying unless we have somewhere to hurry to!”

Bonnie fell silent. Megan seized the opportunity.

“We’ve tried every mall. We didn’t find him. Even if he was at one, he would’ve left by now. We have to come up with a new plan. Can you think of anywhere else they might go?”

Bonnie shrugged. Megan could see she was trying to regain control, trying to put her brain back in order. “I don’t know where he lives now.”

“And neither do the police. What else?”

“He has a cellular phone he carries. He gave me the number.”

“And you called it. No answer. What else?”

Bonnie shrugged helplessly. “I–I don’t know …”

Megan glanced at her watch. “It’s about lunch-time. Is there someplace special they might go for lunch?”

Bonnie’s eyes darted around the small car, as if the answers might be written somewhere on the upholstery. “I don’t know.”

“Think, Bonnie. Think. Does Tommy have a favorite place?”

Bonnie continued shaking her head.

“McDonald’s? Burger King? Split-T?”

“No, he doesn’t like any of-” She froze abruptly. “Oh, my-it’s Christmas Eve! I didn’t even think.”

“What? What is it?”

“Christmas Eve. It’s a special day.”

“Right. Major holiday. Santa Claus and ho-ho-ho.”

Bonnie shook her head. “More than that. It’s our wedding anniversary. We were married on Christmas Eve. Nine years ago today. No wonder he’s flown off his rocker. He must’ve remembered.”

“You were married on Christmas Eve?”

“Right here in OKC.” She snapped her fingers. “And after the ceremony, we ate at The Snow Pea.”

Megan did a double take. “The Chinese place?”

“Right. The one on Western. I know it seems crazy, but I just wonder if-”

She didn’t even have to finish the sentence. Megan had already thrown the transmission into Drive. The car lurched forward as she began weaving her way out of the overcrowded parking lot.

Now at last they had someplace they could go in a hurry.

“Tommy, I want you to eat your food.”

Tommy folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not hungry.”

“Just a few bites, then. For me.”

Tommy looked away, sullen-faced. “Mommy says I shouldn’t eat when I’m not hungry. She says it starts a bad habit.”

“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Your mother. She always comes between us.”

“She just doesn’t want me to get fat. Like this kid in my class, Jerry Douglas. He’s a real tub, and-”

“She can’t even allow me one little bit of pleasure, can she? Can’t give me one last moment of peace with my son.”

Tommy didn’t answer.

Carl leaned across the table. “Listen to me, Tommy. I’m your father. I held you in my arms when you were just a baby. I was there the day you were born. I’m your friend.”

“Does Mommy know where I am?”

The question caught Carl by surprise. “She … knows you’re with me. I’m sure of that.”

“Does she know where I am?”

“Well … in general. She may not know precisely-”

“Are you kidnapping me?”

Pound, pound, pound. The kid kept pounding him with questions. He was almost as bad as his mother. Was there no escaping them? “Tommy, what are you saying? You’re my son.”

“Fathers kidnap their sons sometimes. I read about it in the Weekly Reader. Is that what you’re doing?”

Carl pressed his hands against the table. “All I’m doing right now is having a nice Christmas Eve lunch with my son. The only problem is, you’re not eating!”

Tommy sank back in his chair.

“So eat already, would you? It’s important!”

“Why?”

“It-” He checked himself. “It just is, all right? So eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Carl swelled with rage. He reached across the table, grabbed Tommy’s spoon, and shoveled up a heaping spoonful of chicken with peanuts. “I’m your father, Tommy. You’re supposed to do what I say. Do you understand me? So you will eat your dinner.” His eyes twitched. “If it’s the last thing you do.”