Bonnie

by Iris Johansen

  “TAKE THE PHOTO AWAY,” BEN SAID.

  It was the first time Ben had spoken in the last two hours. He had worked steadily, not looking at Joe, but Joe had seen his eyes wander several times toward the photo beside him on the bench.

  “Does it bother you?”

  “It mixes me up. You mix me up.”

  “Then talk to me. Ask me questions. Maybe I can straighten it out.”

  The boy didn’t speak, but his expression held a kind of helpless anguish.

  “Okay,” Joe said. “I’ll ask the questions and try to work it out. You want to keep your word to Ted Danner. But you know that Danner’s taking Eve was the wrong thing to do. It was the kind of thing your father would do. Isn’t that right?”

  “He won’t hurt her.”

  “But you’re afraid of the accidents, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t like accidents. They scare me.”

  “Then the best thing to do is get her away from him. Then there won’t be an accident. But he won’t let her go, we’ll have to take her. To do that, we have to know where he’s going with her.”

  “I don’t know that.”

  “But you know where he went when he left the camp on weekends. I think he’s probably taking her there. Don’t you, Ben?”

  “He … likes it there sometimes. Sometimes it scares him.”

  “Why would it do that?”

  No answer. Skip the questions before they caused him to skitter away. “We agree that it’s best that Eve doesn’t stay with him. Now we have to find a way to find her.”

  He shook his head. “I promised him.”

  Blank wall.

  “You’re afraid I’ll hurt him.”

  Ben raised his eyes and met his gaze. Joe was once again aware of the gentle clarity that seemed to see beyond and through him. Piercing vision. Knowing vision. “You want to do it,” he said. “No matter what you say, you want to hurt him. Because of the woman. Because you’re afraid for that woman in the photo.”

  Joe couldn’t lie. If he did, the boy would see right through him, and he would lose any hope of cooperation. “You’re right, I want to stop anyone who would hurt her. And I would hurt Ted Danner if I thought he was going to do it.” He paused. “If it came to that moment, I believe you would find a way of stopping him, too. If you thought there would be an … accident.”

  “I wouldn’t like it. I couldn’t do it.”

  “No one is making you do it.” Ben was close, but Joe had an overwhelming barrier to overcome. “Suppose I do everything I can not to hurt Ted Danner. If I can take Eve away from him without hurting him, I’ll do it.”

  “You will?” Ben’s gaze searched his face. “You promise?”

  “I’ll promise that if he doesn’t hurt Eve, I won’t hurt him.”

  “Ever?”

  All he had to do was say yes. He slowly shook his head. “I’ll probably have to go after him, but I would do it anyway. It won’t be because you broke your promise. The only result of that will be that Eve will be safe.”

  Ben’s gaze was on his face. “You didn’t want to tell me that.”

  “Sometimes it’s hard to do the right thing, particularly if it might hurt someone else.”

  “Yes.” He looked down at the photo of Eve. “And it’s hard to know what’s right or wrong. What’s right for you may be wrong for me. It’s confusing. I don’t always understand.”

  “None of us do, Ben.”

  Ben lifted his gaze from the photo. “But lately things are becoming clearer. It’s like lifting a curtain, isn’t it?”

  “Is it? And what’s causing that curtain to lift, Ben?”

  “I’m not sure. I think it’s the dreams.…”

  “Will you help me, Ben?”

  He didn’t speak for a long time, then he slowly nodded. “I’ll take you to the place.”

  “You don’t have to do that. Just tell me where it is.”

  “No.” Ben got to his feet. “I have to go with you. I have to make sure nothing happens to Ted. That’s how it has to be.” He headed for the door of the tent. “I’ll go tell my supervisor that he needs to replace me for today.” He smiled. “Though it will be hard for him. I’m real good at my job. Everyone says so.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Joe said gently. “While you’re gone, I’ll let Father Barnabas know that you’ve changed my mind.”

  He watched the boy wend his way through the tents on the way to the office. It had been difficult as hell to persuade the boy to go along with him. Even now, he wasn’t sure if he’d succeeded or if the kid’s troubled conscience had been the guiding influence. Whatever it was, he’d take it. He hadn’t expected to run into a boy like Ben here.

  Like Ben? He had an idea Ben was unique. He might be slow and have to work his way through the complexity of the human condition and the world around him, but that was not really a handicap in Joe’s eyes. The world ran too fast, judgments were too quickly made, treasures too often lost.

  And Ben would hold on to a treasure with all his strength as he was doing with his friendship for Danner. Even when his conscience was being tormented about the danger to Eve, he was still going to make sure no harm came to Ted Danner.

  And could Joe keep his promise to Ben about not hurting Danner? He had hedged it, made conditions, but the promise had still been made. He had tied his own hands until he could get Eve free. A fine balance.

  All right, accept it. Who knew what would go down when he caught up with Danner? The only thing certain was that Eve would live, Eve would be free.

  “You found out what you wanted to know?” Father Barnabas had come to stand beside him at the entry of the tent.

  Joe nodded. “I will soon. Ben’s going to take me to the place where Danner used to camp.” He gave the priest a sardonic look. “And I didn’t even have to use a rubber hose on him.”

  “I’m a better judge of character than that,” Father Barnabas said quietly. “Under certain circumstances, I’m sure you could be brutal, but not to a boy like Ben.” He turned away. “I’m coming with you. Don’t argue.”

  “The hell I won’t argue. This is the end of the line for you. I don’t trust you. If we’re getting close to Danner, I’m not going to have to risk looking over my shoulder every minute.”

  “That’s your problem. I’m either going with you or following behind. Make up your mind.”

  “I could put you out and there wouldn’t be a decision.”

  “But you’d hesitate to do that. Because there’s a part of you that believes that I’m what I seem on the surface and not one of Danner’s demons.”

  The priest was right, Joe realized in frustration. His time with Father Barnabas had allowed a strange, complex relationship to develop between them. He alternated between liking and believing him and a distrust that was probably what he should be feeling.

  Father Barnabas’s gaze was on Joe’s face. He nodded. “I’ll get my sleeping bag from the car.”

  “Sleeping bag? You came prepared.”

  He smiled. “I’m the urban type. I don’t like sleeping on the cold ground. I might even let you and Ben take a turn using it.”

  “I’m sure you’d consider that your duty,” Joe said dryly.

  “Not necessarily. It might be my duty to strengthen your physical stamina or to strip you of all creature comforts to give you both time to contemplate your sins.” He grinned. “I have choices.”

  * * *

  STOP. REST. SLEEP

  Those words had been repeating in Gallo’s mind for the last two hours. He had to ignore them. He had to keep going.

  Stop. Rest. Sleep.

  Crazy.

  Perhaps it was just his body telling him that it was best to take a break.

  “We can stop for a while and get our breath.” Gallo looked up at Catherine from where he was kneeling by the side of the path. “Danner stopped here and took another break. That’s the third in the last seven hours. He’s letting Eve rest.”

  “May
be he’s letting himself rest,” Catherine said. “He’s not a young man any longer, Gallo.”

  “He hasn’t changed that much. You saw him at the bayou. He’s still very tough.” He leaned back against a pine tree. “We’re making good time, and he’s losing it with every stop. I figure we’ll be almost on top of him in about five hours.”

  “Then we should keep on going. I don’t need to rest.”

  No, Catherine would never admit to a lack of strength and endurance, he thought. Hell, maybe it wasn’t a matter of pride. She did have amazing staying power. Everything about her was amazing.

  Stop. Rest. Sleep.

  “It’s been over twenty-four hours. We have to be at the top of our game when we overtake them. Rest,” he said. “Forty-five minutes. If you can nap, do it.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t sleep. I’m wired.” She sank down beside him before taking out her iPhone and checking the apps. “These last hours we’ve traveled right in line with the coordinates Joe gave us for that camp. That’s got to be where he’s heading.” She frowned. “No, not exactly in line. We’re a little east. But he might veer back.”

  “Or he might not. Stop worrying. We’ll find out when we reach him.”

  She was silent. “No, I can see you’re not worrying.”

  He opened his eyes. “I’m not stalling so that we’ll lose him, Catherine. We can afford this rest.”

  She studied his expression, then settled back against the tree beside him. “I know we can. I know all the rules about conserving strength and all that bull. It’s not a code-red situation. Danner has a destination, and he’s not mistreating Eve yet.” She added through her teeth, “But we’re not there, dammit. And this is Eve.” She drew a deep breath. “Okay, forty-five minutes. Though I’d be a hell of a lot more relaxed going full tilt after Danner. I don’t understand why you don’t feel the same way.”

  “I do. I can’t tell you how much I need this to be over.” He closed his eyes again. “But this is the right thing to do, Catherine. I feel it.” And that feeling was tugging, nagging at him with increasing intensity.

  Stop. Rest. Sleep.

  “Well, I don’t feel it.”

  “And you’re so damn tense that you’re about to break apart.”

  “I’m not. I wouldn’t—” She suddenly broke off as he pulled her into his arms so that her cheek lay against his shoulder. “What are you doing, Gallo?”

  He wasn’t sure. It had been an impulse. “Nothing carnal … I don’t think.” Though his body had responded the minute he had touched her. Block it. This wasn’t the moment.

  Something else was coming that was far more important.

  And where the hell had that last thought come from?

  Stop. Rest. Sleep.

  “Relax. I just want to hold you.”

  She was still taut and resisting. Then she was suddenly relaxing, her body flowing into his.

  That heat and hardening again.

  Block it. Not now.

  “Why, Gallo?” she muttered.

  “I don’t know. I just want to hold you. I want you to be calm and … with me.” His hand was gently stroking her hair. “Your hair smells good.”

  “You’re a little crazy, Gallo,” she muttered.

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “I can’t remember anyone ever wanting to just … hold me.”

  “And considering the fact that you’re one totally desirable lady, you may never experience it again.”

  She was silent a moment. “This is important to you, isn’t it?”

  “It’s important.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t understand it, but I guess it’s okay.”

  “Even though you believe I’m a bit wacko.”

  “People need different things at different times.”

  “Close your eyes, Catherine.”

  “They are closed.”

  And he could feel the muscles of her body relaxing. “Forty-five minutes, Catherine.”

  “You already said that.”

  But she was quiet now, and his own body was still and no longer needing her. He could feel her strength but no disturbance. That was how it should be. That was how he knew instinctively that it had to be.

  He could go on now.…

  * * *

  IT WAS HOT IN THE DARKNESS and he could smell his own sweat.

  He opened his eyes and saw the manacles fastened to the wall and the dirty straw on the stone floor.

  His heart jerked in panic.

  He knew this place, this cell. Prison. North Korea.

  The pain.

  “I’m sorry. It will go away. I’ve never tried to do this kind of dream, and I’m not very good at it. I brought you in at the wrong time.”

  Bonnie. Red curls shining under the light flowing into the darkness from the barred window, wearing jeans and a Bugs Bunny T-shirt. Sitting beside him in the darkness. As she had visited him all those other times during the seven years he was in prison.

  And the pain was suddenly gone.

  She smiled. “I told you so. The stink of this place is bothering you. I can take that away, too.”

  “I thought … Oh God, I thought I was out of here.”

  “And you are. I’m sorry. It won’t be for long.” Her smile faded. “I didn’t want to bring you back here, but it was the only way that I could be sure of reaching you. It was the only strong familiar time we shared. I had to be sure that I was here with you quickly. But this is only a dream. That time is all over. It’s only a dream.”

  He drew a deep breath as the panic almost faded. “Or was that other time a dream, and is this reality?”

  She smiled. “I promise you.”

  Peace. Love. Bonnie.

  A dream, just a dream of that nightmare place, and even the nightmare was gradually being shaded with strands of light. He could almost hear the sound of the songs she used to sing to him in this hellhole. “I thought I’d killed you, Bonnie. It wasn’t true, was it?”

  “No, I tried to tell you. But you wouldn’t listen. I couldn’t get through to you.” She smiled. “All you wanted to do was jump off that cliff.”

  “And you wouldn’t let me.”

  “No, that’s never the way. It messes up everything.” She leaned back against the wall and looked around the cell. She whispered, “This is a terrible place. When I found you here, it made me so sad. You were so brave and strong, and they were hurting you. I wanted so to help you. I wanted you to know you weren’t alone. I wanted you to believe that someone cared about you.”

  He remembered the dreams of Bonnie that had kept away the pain and made him fight to live. “You did help me.”

  A brilliant smile lit her face. “I’m glad. I thought I did.” The next moment, the smile had vanished. “I’m slipping away. I have to talk quickly.”

  “Slipping away?”

  “I’m usually pretty good at this dream stuff, but I’m having to divide up my concentration now. I can probably only hold on for another few minutes.”

  “Then why did you come?”

  “I had to tell you something.” She added gently, “And you’re hurting. I had to let you know that I’ll try to help you.”

  “Eve. Forget about me. Can you help Eve?”

  “I’m trying to get near her. That’s why I had to use a dream to reach you. I have to use most of my effort trying to reach her. He keeps pushing me away. He’s so strong right now.”

  Fear iced through him. “Will he hurt her?”

  “I hope not,” she said soberly.

  “Dammit, don’t you know?”

  “I keep seeing Mama, then in his hand a knife.”

  Gallo muttered a curse.

  “That’s why I had to come to you now,” she said quietly. “I think he’ll use the knife. I think the decision to use it is what’s giving him his strength.”

  “But you’re not certain.”

  “And you don’t want to believe he’d do it. Neither do I. I’m scared for Mama. But
Ted Danner’s not always the same. He changes. I think she’s safe now, but I don’t know for how long. When you get to Mama, you have to believe you may not be able to talk to him.” She paused. “You have to believe he’ll do it. In your heart and in your head.”

  He could feel the tears sting his eyes. “Sometimes I have trouble with both. It’s … hard, Bonnie.” He tried to smile. “Hell, you’re a ghost. Isn’t there some great master plan that you can tap into and help keep her safe?”

  “Oh, yes, there’s a plan. And sometimes I get glimpses of it. Sometimes I can help, and that’s wonderful.” She smiled radiantly. “But I’m only learning now. It’s not in my hands. There are so many things I don’t know yet. But I think that there are different ways that the plan can end if the soul has not crossed over. It’s possible we can change it. That’s why you have to help. You have to get to Mama. You have to help her. And I’ll help her, too.…”

  She was gone.

  He felt a wrenching regret and a piercing loneliness. And then the darkness of the prison and the memories it contained were gone, too.

  Swirling. Vanishing.

  “Gallo!”

  He opened his eyes.

  Catherine was looking up at him with a frown. “Your heart was going triple time. I shook you, but you didn’t stir.” She sat back on her heels. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded and straightened. “I must have drifted off.”

  “It was more like a tidal wave than any gentle drifting. Nightmare?”

  “Sort of.” He stood up and reached down and pulled her to her feet. “It’s over now.”

  “What’s over?”

  The return to that ugliness of the past that had been transformed into salvation by the visits of one small girl. He wasn’t about to explain what had transpired to Catherine. She was having enough problems coming to terms with the stories and beliefs about Bonnie that were coming at her from all sides. “We have to get going.”

  “I’m not arguing. But aren’t you being a bit erratic? It’s not as if you’ve been slacking. It’s been less than fifteen minutes.”

  He’d thought it had been much longer. Or as if time itself had stopped.

  I keep seeing Mama, then a knife in his hand.

  He felt the same panic he had when Bonnie had first said those words.