William Bernhardt - Midnight Before Christmas

“Sure. Next to the lava lamp.”

“Whatever.” She snapped her fingers. “I almost forgot why I came in here. There’s a new client waiting in the lobby-”

“On Christmas Eve?”

“She says it’s an emergency. Of course, since I’m supposed to be handling the domestic cases now, they sent her to me, but I haven’t even finished my Christmas shopping, and if I don’t get out of here soon I never will. I wouldn’t do this to you normally, Megan, but there aren’t many lawyers in the office today, and since … you know …”

Megan did know. What Cindy was saying but not saying was-Since you’re not going anywhere, since you don’t have anyone to see or to spend the holiday with-

“… I wondered if you wouldn’t mind talking to her.”

“What does she need?”

“Emergency restraining order. Ex-husband.”

Megan shrugged. “Cakewalk. Send her in.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate it.” She stopped at the door. “You know, Arnie and I are driving to Tulsa to spend Christmas with his folks. It’s a two-hour drive, but if you’re free by then, we’d love to have you-”

Megan smiled. “Thanks, Cindy. You’re a good friend. But I have plans.”

“You do?”

Granted, it was a lie, but Megan still wished Cindy didn’t look quite so astonished. “I do.” She winked. “Me and Jasper. Now get out of here.”

“Okay. Thanks so much, Megan.” She hesitated. “Merry Christmas.”

Megan nodded. “And to you.”

Megan took advantage of the break to change out of her Santa suit and back into her standard-issue office clothes. About a minute later, the client in question entered Megan’s office-a thin, petite woman. She had a fragile look about her, especially now, when her hands were trembling and her eyes were streaked and red from crying. Still, she was quite attractive. Maybe not in the Cindy Kendall million-dollar-model category, especially at the moment, but still, Megan thought, several G-notes ahead of me.

“I’m Bonnie Cantrell,” she managed. She saw her hands shaking, then lowered them to her side. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m nervous. I’ve been so scared.”

Megan reached out and steadied the woman’s arm. “Just relax, please. Whatever’s happened, I’m sure there’s a solution. My associate told me you’d like a restraining order.”

She nodded. Fresh tears leaked from her eyes. “It’s Carl, my ex-husband.”

Megan nodded sympathetically. “How long have you been divorced?”

“More than two years now. I got custody. He didn’t even get visitation rights. He-” She lowered her head. “He had a drinking problem. Has, I should say.”

“I’m sorry. That must’ve been very difficult for you.” More than once during her days at St. Paul’s, Megan had counseled parents and spouses dealing with alcoholism. She knew it could have a devastating impact on the life of a family.

“It … was.” Bonnie licked her lips, took a deep breath. “He never managed to succeed at anything. I tried to help but nothing ever seemed to work. I thought it would be better, after the divorce. But he’s continued to harass us, to stalk me, my little boy.”

“How old is your son?”

“Tommy’s seven. Too young to understand why…”-another deep breath-“why his mommy doesn’t want him to see his daddy.”

“Have you called the police?”

Bonnie opened her purse and removed a stained handkerchief. “You have to understand-Carl is a cop.”

Uh-oh. Megan fell back in her chair. This was going to be more complicated than she realized.

“He’s not on active duty right now. He was suspended some time ago. But all the local cops know us. They consider Carl one of them. And they consider me someone who betrayed one of them.”

“Still, you should lodge a complaint if he’s threatening you. The law requires the police to-”

“I did call once. But Carl shaped up as soon as he heard the sirens. The cops hassled me, then wrote me a citation because the inspection sticker on my car had expired.”

Megan’s lips pursed.

“I’m just afraid if I call them again, they might do something horrible-like plant some cocaine in my bedroom. And then I’d be the one who goes to jail. And I’d lose custody of Tommy.”

Megan laid her hand on Bonnie’s. “I understand. So you want a restraining order. We’ll go to the courthouse immediately. One of the judges is on duty today, handling emergency cases. We won’t be able to get a permanent restraint without giving your ex notice and a chance to be heard, but we will be able to get a temporary order pending a later hearing. Of course we’ll have to demonstrate that there are exigent circumstances.”

“He came to the house today.” Bonnie’s voice cracked; she appeared to be on the verge of breaking down altogether. “The sun was barely up, but he was already drunk. Crazy drunk. Crazy mean drunk. He punched a friend of mine for no reason. He shoved a neighbor down the porch steps. He broke a window with his bare fist.”

Megan gasped.

“I have witnesses. My neighbors saw everything. I can give you their names.”

“Surely you called the police.”

“One of the neighbors did. Carl ran off when he heard the sirens. I hid, let the neighbors talk to the police. I didn’t want them to know it was me.”

“That must’ve been awful. I’m so sorry.” She placed her arm around Bonnie’s shoulders and squeezed. As others had noted before, whether Megan’s name was followed by D.D. or Esq., her counseling technique didn’t change much.

“It was,” Bonnie whispered. “It was a nightmare.” She clutched her handkerchief so tightly she could have wrung water from it. “I was so scared. I’m still scared.”

“Scared that he’ll come back?”

“Scared of what he might do. Especially if he gets to Tommy.”

“Surely he wouldn’t hurt his own son.”

Bonnie’s eyes widened impossibly, and the flood of tears continued. “I know Carl. He’s thinking, If I can’t have Tommy, no one can.”

A hollow ache resounded in the pit of Megan’s stomach. It was a feeling she had learned to trust. “Forgive me for asking, Bonnie, but where’s. Tommy now?”

“He’s at his school-it’s a private school. Villa Veronica. I didn’t want to bring him here. Didn’t want him to see me like this.”

“I don’t want to alarm you,” Megan said evenly, “but I think you should call. Right now.” She yanked her cordless phone out of its cradle and passed it to Bonnie. “Just to check.”

Bonnie nodded. Slowly, with trembling hands, she punched seven numbers onto the keypad.

A moment later, Megan heard a click that told her someone had answered the phone. “H-hello. This is Bonnie Cantrell. I–I wanted to check on Tommy.”

Megan looked away, but continued to listen. “Yes,” she heard Bonnie say. “Yes.” Then there was a sudden intake of air. “ What?”

Megan whirled around. “What is it? What happened?”

Bonnie looked up wordlessly. The phone fell out of her hands and landed on the carpet with a thud. “He isn’t there.”

“Isn’t there? How can that be?” Her answer was more whispered than spoken. “They say his father picked him up.”

Carl exited I-35 and pulled into the parking lot of the Toys “R” Us near Crossroads Mall. He was worried about Tommy. It had been a cinch liberating him from Villa Veronica. The permanent staff was off for the holidays and the substitutes were clueless. Why shouldn’t he take Tommy? they thought. He was the boy’s father, after all.

Carl had taken Tommy straight from the school to his car, but ever since then, Tommy had been almost motionless, sitting in the passenger seat staring out the window. No matter what ploy Carl tried to engage him in conversation, Tommy remained silent.