Lost Innocents

by MacDonald, Patricia

  Nick nodded. It confirmed what he had suspected.

  “Not to be un-Christian,” Colleen added hastily, remembering that her visitor was a priest. “I mean, I know we’re all supposed to love our neighbor and all…”

  “Some people make it difficult, don’t they,” Nick said with a smile.

  Colleen sighed and sank back into her chair. “I don’t mind telling you, I miss having Bonnie around here. She’s only been gone a week or so, and look at this mess. When she was here, this place was shipshape. I felt guilty even charging her rent, the way she took care of everything. The house was always picked up, and she’d do the shopping.” Colleen leaned forward. “Now, don’t get me wrong. I tried never to take advantage of her. Poor Bonnie’d been taken advantage enough of in her life by that witch of a mother. Oh no, I was always telling her, Don’t work so hard. You don’t have to do all that. But Bonnie hated a mess. Me, I don’t even notice it,” she admitted.

  Nick stifled an urge to smile. It was pretty obvious that she didn’t notice it. But she had a quality of goodness about her that made her appealing.

  “So,” said Colleen, “how’re they doing now, anyway?”

  Nick set down his teacup and leaned forward, clasping his hands. “That’s actually what I came to talk to you about. I mean, I didn’t know if Bonnie had any family in town…”

  Colleen shook her head. “I’m about as close as it gets.”

  “Well, I can see that,” Nick said. “The truth is—”

  A baby’s thin wail pierced the air, emerging from a room down the darkened hallway. Colleen threw up her hands. “I’m sorry, Father, just a minute. I’ll be right back.”

  She started down the hall, calling out, “Coming, angel. Coming, my little sweetpea.”

  He heard her murmuring, and the crying stopped immediately. In a few minutes she came back into the living room, carrying a big fat baby in her arms. He was wearing a stained sweatshirt and pants, but he was cooing happily in his mother’s arms. “This is George junior,” she said proudly.

  “Very handsome lad,” said Nick.

  Colleen walked back to the kitchen, one arm wrapped securely around her baby, and got a bottle of milk from the refrigerator. She brought it back into the living room, sat down, settled the baby in her lap, and gave him the bottle. He began to suck on it contentedly. Colleen gazed at him in complete adoration and then forced herself to give her attention back to her guest.

  “How old is he?” Nick asked politely.

  “Eight months,” Colleen answered. “He’s full of mischief. Just like his dad. But he’s good-natured like his dad, too. Bonnie used to take care of him sometimes. It was great having a built-in babysitter.” She sighed, remembering. “One weekend I knew George senior was coming into port up the line, and I wanted to go up there and surprise him. I knew I couldn’t because of Georgie here, but Bonnie insisted that I go. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. So I just left Georgie with her, packed up my laciest things, and off I went. George was so surprised. It was like being honeymooners all over again. We had the whole weekend, alone together.”

  “I think Bonnie likes to be helpful,” said Nick. “Although right now she’s the one who needs a little help.”

  “Now, don’t get the wrong idea. I didn’t ask her to do it. She volunteered. She practically begged me,” Colleen protested. “Anyway, you were telling me that she’s in some kind of jam. What happened that she needs help?”

  “Well, it seems that no sooner had Terry gotten out of prison than they were involved in a car accident.”

  “Oh no,” Colleen exclaimed. “Not another one.”

  “Another one?” he asked.

  “Well, that’s how her mother died. Bonnie was driving her to a church fashion show or something, and she lost control of the car. Drove right into a tree. She was okay, but her mom never had a chance. She was in the death seat, and she was from the old school—didn’t wear seat belts. The police said she never knew what hit her.”

  Nick winced. “Bonnie never mentioned it to me,” he said.

  “It happened a couple of years ago. I don’t think she likes to talk about it,” said Colleen. “That’s just so sad about the accident. Just as they were really getting started, you know.”

  “I know,” said Nick. “Luckily, there was a very nice person involved in the accident who took them in while Terry had surgery for a ruptured spleen.”

  “Them?” she asked, wiping a little milk off Georgie’s chin with the tail of her shirt.

  “Bonnie and Sean.”

  She looked up at him with a pleasant but blank look in her eye. “Who’s Sean?” she asked.

  Nick felt a ripple of anxiety. “Bonnie’s baby,” he said. “Her son.”

  “Baby? Bonnie doesn’t have a baby.”

  Nick stifled a gasp, as if he had been hit with a bucket of cold water. Images were flooding in, confusing him. He tried to organize his thoughts. “Sure she does. Sean,” he said. “Her baby with Terry. I baptized him.”

  Georgie chortled contentedly. Colleen wrapped him up closely in her arms and drew back a little as if Nick suddenly seemed menacing to her. “Are we talking about the same Bonnie?” she said.

  “I don’t know,” said Nick. But suddenly he did.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Terry struggled up to a sitting position, holding his stomach, and stared at his wife, who had the gun trained on Maddy and Justin Wallace. “Bonnie, what in hell are you doing?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “None of this was supposed to happen.”

  “Where did get the gun? Why did she call Sean…whatever name that was.”

  “Justin,” said Maddy. She rubbed the baby’s head gently. “This is Justin Wallace. He was kidnapped a few days ago. And his baby-sitter was murdered.”

  “You’re lying,” Terry said flatly.

  “Tell him, Bonnie. He’s your husband. He has a right to know,” said Maddy.

  “Bonnie, is she telling the truth?” Terry pleaded. “Sweet Jesus, tell me this ain’t the truth.”

  Bonnie turned on him angrily, the gun wavering away from Maddy. For a moment Maddy didn’t know whether or not to lunge, or try to run. It would be impossible to get away in this small room, with Terry splayed out on the floor. And she was holding the baby. She wasn’t about to let him go. He was trembling in her arms, as if he knew there was danger in the air.

  Bonnie glared at her husband. “I wrote to you when you were in prison. I called you, and came to visit when everybody thought you were a murderer. I never once said anything about what crimes you’d done. I didn’t care. I loved you for yourself and I didn’t care. I wasn’t ashamed to marry a murderer. So why are you suddenly so high and mighty about me?”

  “Because I don’t wanna go back there,” he shouted, and then doubled over, his face contorted with pain. “For something I didn’t even do,” he whispered. “But they’ll think I did.”

  “I did it for you,” Bonnie explained. “You wanted a baby so much.”

  Terry looked up at her with pure, black hatred. “For me?” he said.

  “For you and me,” she said petulantly. “For us.”

  “You killed a woman and kidnapped a baby for me?” He laughed, but his eyes were desperate. “Thanks a lot.”

  “You were happy about Sean,” she protested.

  “I thought he was my baby. I thought I was a father. I thought I was going to have a chance to do better by my kid than my old man did by me. That miserable prick.” Terry shuddered from pain as he took in a deep breath. “And all the time I didn’t even see it. I didn’t realize you were a complete wacko. I spent enough time around wackos so that I should have known one when I saw it coming, but no. No. I had to go and marry one. I haven’t been able to do anything right in my whole miserable life, but this…this is the capper. I marry a raving lunatic who’s a murdering kidnapper and I’ll be back in jail before dawn.”

  “You love me,” Bonnie insisted, pointing the gu
n at him like an accusing finger.

  Terry laughed mirthlessly. “Jesus loves you, babe. I wish I’d never set eyes on you.”

  For a moment Bonnie sagged, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. “You bastard,” she breathed. Then she straightened, regarding him with a pitiless wrath that was frightening to behold. She did not hesitate. In one fluid motion she pointed the pistol at his chest, steeled herself, and fired. Terry’s eyes opened wide in surprise as his hand reached for the spot where the bullet went in. Blood began to appear around his fingers and spread across his shirt.

  Maddy screamed and then jumped back as Bonnie turned on her. Tendrils of smoke rose from the metal gun barrel, and the acrid smell of gunpowder filled the room. Until this moment, Maddy had never realized that guns actually smoked when they were fired. “You shot him,” she said helplessly. At that moment Amy appeared in the doorway, frightened by the noise and crying for her mother.

  Maddy watched Terry slide back down onto the floor, his eyes rolling back in his head.

  “What is the matter with you?” Maddy asked, but there was really no need for an answer.

  Bonnie was shaking, looking at her bleeding husband with horror. “I killed him. I killed the only one who ever loved me.” Then she shook her head. “No, he didn’t love me. He never did. Oh my God, oh my God!”

  “Mommy,” Amy cried, seeing the bleeding man on the floor, the gun in Bonnie’s hand.

  Maddy did not hesitate. Still clutching Justin, she reached out and tried to grab the gun from Bonnie’s hand. For a moment she felt the hot metal in her fingers, and then Bonnie jerked it up and wrested it away. “Get away!” Bonnie shrieked. “Get away or I’ll kill you.”

  Maddy knelt beside her daughter, trying to avert her eyes from the scene and shield both children from Bonnie’s madness. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and she wanted to throw up, but she kept murmuring inanities to the whimpering children.

  Bonnie lowered the gun and stared impassively at the man on the floor. “Nothing has worked out like I planned,” she said.

  Maddy watched her, not knowing what to expect next. Bonnie’s mood was careening from hysteria to detachment. Now she looked out the window at the darkness, the bare branches of the trees in the moonlight. For a moment she stood there, lost in thought, seeming oblivious of her husband, who lay bleeding at her feet. Then she turned to Maddy. “Come on,” she said. “We’re going.”

  Maddy looked up at her, horrified. “Going where?”

  “I don’t know, but we have to get out of here,” said Bonnie.

  “Please, Bonnie,” Maddy pleaded. “Just take the car and go. Leave us here. Please leave us. I won’t call the police, I promise. You can pull out the phone lines. I don’t care. Just leave us and go. You can disappear and no one will ever know who you are. You could start over somewhere. Just please, not the children. Why do they have to suffer?”

  Bonnie’s eyes glazed over at Maddy’s final question. “I had to suffer,” she said. “Why shouldn’t they suffer? Come on. Let’s get out of here. If you don’t do anything wrong, I’ll leave you somewhere when I’m finished with you. But right now, I need to take you with me. Come on,” she said, waving the gun. “Let’s go-Glancing at Terry’s inert form, Maddy did not dare to argue with her. “Come on, Amy,” she said. “We have to go with Mrs.

  Lewis.”

  “Why? I don’t want to go with her.”

  “Just get your jacket on,” she said. She started to ask Bonnie if she could dress Justin, put him in a diaper and pants, but she decided it was better just to do it. She reached into the nearest suitcase, pulled out the first pants she grabbed, then lifted a diaper from the diaper bag. Bonnie did not seem to be paying much attention. She was staring down at Terry, who lay crumpled on the floor at her feet. Maddy set Justin on the bed and quickly put on the diaper and pants.

  Bonnie fell to her knees beside Terry and gently pushed his hair back off his clammy forehead with her free hand. “Why couldn’t he just have said he loved me?” she said. “I would have done anything for him. I did do everything for him. What does it take?” she asked.

  Maddy did not know whether or not to reply. Bonnie’s question could have been directed to Maddy or to an indifferent universe. She tried to summon up a sympathy she really didn’t feel.

  “It’s not too late,” she said. “Let’s call an ambulance. He might still be alive.”

  “It is too late,” Bonnie responded.

  Maddy forced herself to imagine the turbulence in Bonnie’s heart, tried to self not to think about poor Rebecca Starnes, and the Wallaces, half out of their minds with fear and grief. She tried to put it all out of her mind and consider her words. Finally she said gingerly, “I know you’ve been hurt, Bonnie. I know it must be terrible for you. But can’t you just leave the children out of this? They’re completely innocent. They’ve never done anything to hurt anybody. Can’t you just leave them here?”

  “Leave them alone here in the house? What kind of a mother are you?” Bonnie asked impatiently, pushing herself to her feet. “You can’t leave children alone in a house. They could get hurt.”

  “We could call someone to come over here and get them. We’ll be long gone by then.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Bonnie. “They’re coming with us. Now let’s go.”

  Maddy picked up Justin and prepared to take him on the next step of his journey. Please, God, she thought. Let this not be the last.

  Chapter Forty

  The moon was full and low in the sky, criss-crossed by bare tree branches. Ghostly gray clouds wafted past on their to way somewhere else. Doug clutched the neck of the vodka bottle and made a toast to the stationary moon and all the bright stars. He had toasted everything else he could think of. Why not the moon? It was good company. That was more than he could say for most of the people he could think of. He leaned against the wide railing that crowned the uppermost rampart of Fort Wynadot. The only thing higher was the guardhouse beside him. Doug thought about that moon again and wished he had a quarter for the viewer so he could study it like an astronomer. He fumbled in his pockets for change, but his hands were unsteady, and he dropped the coins he pulled out.

  “Fuck it,” he muttered. “I’ll climb up there and look.”

  A narrow staircase led up to the guardhouse. At the foot of the stairs was a chain hung between the railings and a sign that read “No Visitors Beyond This Point.”

  “Fuck you,” he said. He clutched the bottle under his arm and threw his leg over the chain.

  In the parking lot below, Randall Burke and Nina Stefano pulled up, and Randall tried to screen the car under the bare branches of a tree, to give them some privacy. He wished he had somewhere else to take her, but this car, borrowed from his older brother, was the best he could do. So far, she had been agreeable, but Nina was a mercurial girl, and he was like a guy walking through a minefield, trying with all his might not to say or do anything that would piss her off.

  They had lots of fights, which only increased his ardor for her. They would be going along just fine, having a great time, laughing and accidentally touching over and over, when suddenly he’d say something and she’d take it the wrong way and boom, the night was ruined. She’d flash those black eyes angrily, toss her silky black hair, and demand to be taken home or she’d walk. More evenings ended that way. Tonight, however, things looked good, Randall thought. His palms were sweaty on the steering wheel, and he could feel a jolt of unbearable anticipation when he glanced at her profile. He parked the car with what he hoped was elan, turned to her, and rubbed one finger down her cheek. “Spooky out here tonight,” he said. “With that full moon.”

  Nina stiffened with the usual irritation. “It’s just your imagination,” she said. It was not that she didn’t like him. She did. And she wanted him, too. He was handsome in that burly, Irish way that was at once foreign and familiar to her. Hadn’t she always, ever since she could remember, had crushes on altar boys at Ou
r Lady who looked like him? No, it was just the way he went about it. He was so…respectful. For reasons she couldn’t understand, that infuriated her.

  “Maybe there are ghosts,” he said, smiling bravely and thinking about snaking an arm around her. “It’s almost Halloween.”

  She reached up and swatted his fingers away. “Stop it,” she said.

  “Nina,” he pleaded. “What’s the matter?”

  She felt the familiar fury rising again. “Nothing,” she said.

  He leaned across the seat and tried to kiss her cheek, but she turned her head and his kiss landed in her hair, above her ear.

  He drew back in confusion. “I thought you wanted to come here,” he said.

  He did not understand that his only crime was being too timid. That if he wasn’t more vehement, he would soon lose her to an older guy who knew enough to take control. She didn’t want to have to grant permission. It was against her beliefs, to want to do what he asked of her. She needed to be carried away. She needed him to insist that she throw caution to the wind. The fact that Randall didn’t understand this made her furious. Although, to be fair, she didn’t understand it, either. So there they sat, side by side, filled with longing and unable to proceed. Nina huddled by the door and stared angrily through the windshield. Randall threw one hand across the steering wheel, shook his head, and sighed. There was no hope with her, he thought. There was just no way.

  Suddenly she sat up in her seat. “Randy,” she cried in a voice that made him tingle, “what is that?”

  He turned to look at her, hope renewed, and saw that she was pointing to the fort.

  “Look up there,” she said. “It does look like a ghost.”

  Randy looked where she was pointing. “Jesus Christ,” he exclaimed. A man was standing on the top step beside the guardhouse, holding on to its door with one hand.

  “What’s he doing?” she cried.