CHAPTER 26
1763 Words
CHAPTER 26
The sun was streaming in through the bedroom window when the doorbell woke Kennedy up the next morning.
Her heart leaped up to her trachea for just a moment as all the memories from the previous night crashed and collided into her thoughts at once. She stood up. Who could it be?
She held her breath as she tiptoed down the hall. There was a different policeman in the living room now, and he stood and nodded at the window. “You know that guy?”
She glanced and saw the painted youth group van parked in the Lindgrens’ driveway, the winter sun reflecting off its bright tie-dye swirls. She peeked through the window near the front door. The first thing she saw was the blond dreadlocks.
“Yeah, I know him.” She ran her fingers through her hair as the officer fidgeted with the deadbolt on the Lindgrens’ front door.
“Nick!” She smiled at the St. Margaret’s youth pastor, trying to remember how long it had been since the last time she saw him.
“Sandy called me. Said you might want a ride over to Providence.” His hair reached nearly down to his waist. It was always a temptation for Kennedy to reach out and give it a good, strong tug. “I tried calling your cell, but it kept going right to voicemail.”
“Yeah, that’s the dumb battery. Sorry about that.”
Nick turned his head from one side to the other to stretch. “Hey, it’s no problem. I was gonna stop and see if they needed anything anyway. It’s not even out of my way to swing by here first. I can take you now, or wait in the van if you need time to get ready.”
Kennedy had slept in her clothes. Her bag was in Carl’s car, but she wasn’t sure if the police still had everything roped off.
“I just need to use the bathroom. What time is it?”
Nick stuck his hands in his pockets. “Almost one. Did I wake you up?”
It must have been pretty obvious by the way she looked.
“Hey, don’t worry,” Nick added. “I would have slept in, too. Sounds like you had a crazy night.”
“Something like that. If you don’t mind waiting, I can be out in just a minute or two.”
He jingled the keys in his hand. They were attached to a lanyard with patterns of Jesus fish and surfboards in all the colors of the rainbow. “Sure thing. I’ll be in the van. I just got a new Christmas album, so take your time.”
“If you’re headed out, I’ll check everything one last time and be on my way,” the policeman replied.
Kennedy thanked him and headed to the bathroom. A few minutes later, she was in the old VW bus with Nick, headed toward the hospital. “How’s Carl doing?” Kennedy was almost too afraid to ask, but the uncertainty would have eventually erupted into hundreds of worry pimples all over her body if she didn’t find out soon. Had he made it through the night ok? Had he lost too much blood?
“From what Sandy said on the phone, sounds like he’s doing great. You know Carl. Already invited one of the nurses to Christmas Eve service. Got another one interested in doing ultrasounds once the new pregnancy center ever gets its own machine.”
Kennedy’s shoulders relaxed. So he couldn’t be that bad.
“What about you?” Nick asked. “You holding up all right?”
Kennedy hadn’t bothered to ask herself that question yet today. She knew it would take a while to process everything she had gone through. Logically, it all sounded like great news, all except for the part about Carl getting shot and his car so banged up. But Vinny and Gino were both behind bars, and as far as she knew, there was no one else around who had any reason to harm her.
“I’m just glad it’s finally over.”
It was over, wasn’t it? She already felt more relaxed than she had in weeks. How long had it been since she slept in so late?
Nick strummed the steering wheel as if he were playing an imaginary guitar along with his acoustic Christmas CD. Kennedy had never heard of the band, but she liked the simple, folksy sound. The bobble-head set of Peter, James, and John on the dashboard jiggled when he slowed down to turn toward Providence.
“What about ... I don’t know ... all the stuff you went through earlier? Was it hard for you yesterday, reliving that all over again?”
The unseen fist that had taken residence in her gut for the past half a semester seized her insides and wrenched them in its iron grasp. So much for that sense of tranquility.
“It wasn’t easy.” She forced a little laugh that was far too high pitched for her vocal range. “Just pray you never have to face Carl while he’s waving around a gun.”
Nick slowed to a stop at a red light. “What?”
Kennedy told him how Carl had been in the kitchen, blocking the way before Gino could get her into the garage.
“He’s really still got that thing?” Nick asked. “After all these years?”
“What thing?” Kennedy stared at the van’s paint job through the side mirror. The kaleidoscope of colors almost made her dizzy. On her door was a scene of Moses parting a sea full of tropical fish, with surfing flamingos riding the waves.
“Oh, he never told you the story behind that gun?” Nick turned down the music. “Well, he and Sandy had their share of issues when they first got married. Stupid people would give them a hard time — bunch of racist bigots, really.”
Kennedy nodded.
“Well, it got so bad in one instance, Carl got himself a license and a gun and took a firearms safety class.”
“I never realized it got that bad,” Kennedy admitted, trying to figure out who could have made the Lindgrens feel so unsafe Carl would have resorted to such measures.
“I know, right?” Nick asked. “I mean, when he tells these stories, it’s like I’m living back in the dark ages. But they were in the south back then. And you know Carl. He’d do just about anything to protect his family.”
Kennedy thought about last night, how he had dived at her to get her out of the way. How would she have felt if he really had died for her? How could she ever have looked Sandy in the eye again?
“Well, so he had this gun, and as time went on people became more and more accepting of others, so he never really needed it. Then one winter — I think it was my first Christmas at St. Margaret’s — someone breaks in to the Lindgrens’ home. Just a kid, really. Seventeen or eighteen, I don’t remember all the details, but not a hardened crook or anything. He was just looking for a few quick things he could sell for easy money around Christmastime. I don’t think he realized the Lindgrens were home. Probably thought they were on vacation or something. Anyway, Carl hears the noise in the living room, comes out with his gun, and sees this kid poking around under the Christmas tree. And the boy stands up and recognizes Carl and says, ‘Aren’t you that guy from that big church off the Red Line? My grandma makes me go there every Christmas.’ So of course Carl puts the gun away, and then he and Sandy sit him down and he ends up accepting Christ, they invite him and his mom and his grandma over for Christmas dinner, and it’s all one big happy ending. But after that, at least as Carl explains it, he decided he just couldn’t be a pastor and keep a gun at the same time. He got rid of all the ammo, but he joked about holding onto the pistol just for show if he ever needed to scare someone away. I guess he was serious, though, if he still had it last night.”
Kennedy was trembling again. Would she ever be able to talk about the things she had gone through without her muscles all spasming at once? It made more sense now, at least logically, how Carl could have stood there with his gun pointed at her. Part of her had known the whole time he was bluffing, but that wasn’t enough to stop her insides from quivering with the memories.
“What about you?” Nick asked as he pulled the van into the Providence parking garage. “You have big plans for Christmas or anything?”
Kennedy hadn’t thought that far ahead but was glad to change the subject and talk about something more mundane. “I’m supposed to fly to Baltimore to visit my aunt for a few weeks, but now I’m not sure what’s going on.”
She’d have to get her phone charged and get in touch with Aunt Lilian. Her parents, too. And she could only guess how many phone calls she had missed from Detective Drisklay by now. With so many meetings and deadlines and demands on her time, it almost felt as if she was still in the middle of her semester at Harvard.
The chances of her getting to the airport in time for her four o’clock flight today were pretty slim. She didn’t want to leave until she was convinced Carl was better, and she had enough experience with the police department to know she’d have to answer a lot of questions over the next few days. Maybe she would stay at the Lindgrens’ and help take care of Carl while he healed. There had to be some way to repay him for his courage.
Nick maneuvered the VW bus in between a flower delivery van and a pickup. Peter, James, and John kept bobbling even after he parked.
“You ready?”
She nodded. Twenty-four hours ago, she had been preparing to take her last final of the semester. Now she was about to go visit the man who had saved her life from a dangerous criminal. Out of the dozens or maybe even hundreds of thrillers she had read over the years, none of them had prepared her for the relief, the almost euphoric release that came from knowing her captors were in custody. But the joy was tarnished, polluted by the guilt that had glared her in the face ever since she saw Carl’s bloody shirt. That bullet had been meant for her. How could she be happy, how could she be relieved when her pastor was in the hospital recovering from a bullet wound — a bullet wound he would have never suffered if it hadn’t been for her?
“You ok?” Nick asked. “You look pretty serious.”
Kennedy forced a smile. “I’m fine.” She followed him toward the hospital entrance, each of her footsteps shouting hostile accusations in her ear.
The wind from last night had died down, and the sky was gray and overcast.
“I’m glad you were able to come with me.” Nick let Kennedy go first through the hospital entrance.
Providence’s interior was decorated with blue and silver tinsel, with large red Christmas ornaments hanging from the ceiling.
He unbuttoned his coat. “I’m sure Carl and Sandy will be excited to see you.”
Kennedy wasn’t that certain, but she kept the thought to herself.
- Writer
