A Carol for Kent

by Hallee Bridgeman

  Bobby saw the violin wire on the ground near where Carol had knelt. He assumed that she had planned to use it to squeeze the life out of the mother of his child. Snatching it up, he knelt and put his knee between Rhonda’s shoulder blades, then lifted her wrists, intending to tie them together. She started to fight again, so he grabbed a handful of her hair, drew her head back, then slammed it forward onto the wooden floor. She kicked and screamed. He slammed her head into the floor again, harder.

  She lay still now, and he neither knew nor cared about whether or not she was conscious. He wrapped the wire around her wrists over and over like a rodeo cowboy tying a roped calf. Satisfied that she wouldn’t be able to get herself loose anytime soon, he sat down a few feet from her and wiped his mouth, seeing blood there from a wound he hadn’t realized he’d sustained.

  He heard the sound of them running through the house. Then Carol appeared at the doorway. He stood when he saw her, a need growing deep inside him to touch her, to make sure she was okay. She stopped just at the threshold, took in the scene within seconds, and hurled herself toward him before Mitch even made it into the room.

  Nothing had ever felt so good in his life as when Carol’s arms came around him. He held her so tightly that he briefly worried he’d smother her. But she laughed and cried and kissed him, then pulled back and looked at him, then kissed him again.

  “I thought I was dead,” she said, and pulled back again to look at his face. “Oh, Bobby,” she said, the tears starting to flow again, “I thought she was going to kill me. All I could do was think of Lisa and pray that God wouldn’t let her kill me.”

  Bobby squeezed her tighter, not able to speak because his throat was choked with the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He put an arm over her shoulder and walked her from the room, brushing past the innumerable police officers that suddenly filled his house, and headed outside.

  Jack Gordon’s body lay in the yard of her home, his corpse covered with a tarp like some old farm implement the farmer didn’t want to rust in the rain. Carol averted her eyes and tucked her face into Bobby’s shoulder, leaning on him and trusting him to guide her back to her house.

  The rain had started falling again, but the wind had died down and the storm wasn’t as violent, at least not in their vicinity. They walked across the lawn toward her porch and he took a seat. In seconds, he had Carol in his lap and they watched the police move between the two houses performing their duties.

  He had started to calm down and think rationally again, and loosened his grip on her a bit. “Are you hurt?” he asked. “Do you need to go in an ambulance?”

  Carol shook her head. “I’d rather not go in an ambulance. Can you drive me?”

  “Of course, Darlin’. Let me check in with Mitch and make sure he doesn’t need you.”

  “I’ll go inside and clean up,” she said.

  He cupped her cheek with his hand and kissed her eyelids. “Why don’t you call Henry and see if he can come here?”

  Around a sniffle, she agreed. “That would be so much better than going there.”

  CAROL sent Henry a text asking him to come over as soon as possible. Within seconds, he called and she briefly explained what happened. He told her it would take him a few minutes to get there.

  She went inside to clean up. As she stared at her face in the mirror of her bathroom, she wanted to put makeup on, but she knew Henry would probably want to look at the bruises on her face. Instead, she went back downstairs without her usual shield. Her hip ached, and she didn’t know if she’d hurt it while fighting Jack, or if Rhonda had done something when she lay there unconscious. There was no telling, really.

  She headed for her kitchen, wanting a pot of tea.

  From the black dust covering the counters, she could see the police had dusted for fingerprints. While the water came to a boil, she worked at cleaning it off. She wanted her life back in order, and might as well start in the kitchen.

  She knew she was avoiding talking to Bobby. She didn’t know how to tell him about Jack, but it was something she couldn’t keep to herself. Or keep from him. She also knew she had to tell Mitch, and knew that telling him would hurt her more than anything.

  She poured the steaming hot water over the tea leaves, then left the kitchen to find Bobby. He was on the front porch where she’d left him, talking to Mitch. She took his hand as she lowered herself into the chair next to him.

  “Just heard word that she’s regaining consciousness. I have a couple of uniforms taking her to the hospital.” Mitch looked at Carol. “Our force lost a good detective tonight.”

  Carol frowned. “Lost?”

  “Jack Gordon. The M.E. said his skull was crushed from behind. Looked like a struggle went on in your front yard there. He clearly died protecting you. Did you see what she hit him with?”

  She didn’t want to think about Jack or what he had done, but she felt like she might fall apart if she didn’t say something. So she started speaking quietly.

  “He didn’t die protecting me. If he had been protecting me instead of trying to rape me, he might still be alive.”

  She barely recognized Mitch’s voice when he demanded, “What?”

  She told them everything. She told them about her cut battery cables and how Jack had thrown her against the brick wall beside her front door. She told them about how he had straddled her and hit her. She told them about stomping on his foot and spitting in his face. She told them everything, feeling Bobby’s hand tense as she went on with her story, noticing both men and their excruciating silence as she neared the end. By the time she finished, tears streamed down her face. Suddenly overwhelmed by everything that had happened, she covered her face with her hands and fought back the urge to collapse into a sobbing heap.

  Mitch stood up the second she finished her story, kicking the porch railing, then he stopped and ran his hands through his hair. “You tried to tell me, didn’t you? I’m sorry, Carol. I’m so sorry.”

  He strode off the porch and walked next door. Bobby ran a hand down her back and she raised her head. He gently brushed the hair from her face and kissed her forehead. “I love you, Carol.”

  She nodded and pressed her lips together, trying to keep the tears back, and let him gather her into his arms.

  ABOUT five minutes after Mitch took their statements, Henry stepped onto the porch. Carol sat on the chair next to Bobby, her hand in his. She sat up straight. “Hi,” she said. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Hi yourself.” He sat in one of the vacant chairs, set his bag on the ground next to him, and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Well,” he said with a deep sigh, “I’ve had quite a day. What’s been going on around here?”

  Carol laughed as she slowly stood. “Come inside, Henry. I need you to look at my head and my hip.”

  “I had a feeling,” he said gently. “Though I’d have preferred you to get in an ambulance and come to me.”

  “Quit picking at me, Henry, I’ve had a rough night.”

  He stared at her, then nodded his head. “Go on inside. Put on a robe so I can look at your hip.” He bent down to retrieve his bag and looked at Bobby. “What about you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Good. We’ll be right back out.”

  They went into the kitchen because that room had the most light, and Henry cleaned Carol’s wounds while she told him the story. He asked no questions, just letting her speak. After he finished patching up her face, he poked and prodded at her hip until she thought she would scream at him, then shined a flashlight in her eyes until she was sure she would go blind.

  “What about your shoulders? Did he hurt them when he was restraining you?” he asked, lifting one of her arms and rolling it around. She didn’t realize they hurt until he pulled it behind her. She sucked in her breath and bit down on her lip.

  He finally quit messing with her, then poured them each a fresh cup of tea. “Your hip’s bruised. You have a moderate concussion. Your arms are going to be
really sore for a few days while the muscles heal. Other than that, you’re fine.”

  Bobby walked in during the middle of his diagnosis. “What do we do about the concussion?”

  “If she gets dizzy or starts to feel nauseated, call me. Other than that, don’t do anything.” He drained his cup, and they watched as a wave of exhaustion wash over him and manifested in a tremendous yawn. “I’m going to go back to my apartment. I really did have a hard day.” He re-packed his bag and stood, kissing Carol on the top of her head. “Call me if you need me.”

  “Thanks, Henry.”

  “I’ll have my secretary send you my bill.” He stopped in front of Bobby and held his hand out. “See you around, cowboy.”

  Bobby smiled and shook his hand. “Yeah, see you doc.”

  Carol put her head on the table. “I want Lisa,” she said.

  “She’s probably already in bed. We’ll go out and get her first thing in the morning,” he said, sitting at the table next to her. Carol nodded and felt her eyes drift closed. “Go on up to bed, Carol. Mitch came back over and said he’ll come by tomorrow with the statements for us to sign.”

  She sat up and ran her hands over her face. “Will you stay here tonight? I don’t really want to be alone.”

  He grinned. “Thanks for the offer. I think I can find my normal guest room. Besides, I have no idea how much longer the police are going to be combing through my underwear drawer over there. ”

  “I’m going to take something for my headache. It will probably knock me out,” she said. She stood and squeezed his shoulder as she walked past him.

  “Okay, Darlin’,” he said. “Call out if you need me.”

  CHAPTER 34

  BOBBY Kent opened his eyes in an unfamiliar place and found a tall, lean man about his age and about his height standing at the foot of his bed. The man had a broad chest and shoulders and lean arms with lean muscles. He had faint scars on his chin and at his hairline. They were only visible because of his dark tan and close cropped hair. The man stood there holding a cup of tea, watching him, just watching him, with a perfectly blank expression.

  The man spoke and said, “You’re in a guest room at Carol Mabry’s house.”

  “What?” Bobby asked, only because the statement was not the answer to the first question he would have asked and it jarred him.

  He sat straight up and looked around, getting his bearings. The bright Virginia morning sunlight shone through the window. There was a humid smell in the air, though the storm had passed. The events of the previous night began to crowd his mind.

  The man spoke again. “You looked disoriented. I wake up like that a lot. I’m Nick, by the way. We haven’t met.”

  “Nick? What are you doing here?”

  Nick Williams shrugged. “Apparently, nothing. I hear you did it already. Tea?”

  Nick handed Bobby a cup of hot tea with a lemon wedge floating in it. Bobby asked, “No coffee?”

  Nick shook his head. “Never touch the stuff. Want to tell me what went down last night?”

  Bobby set the tea on the bedside table. Married to Carol’s best friend or not, he hadn’t decided whether he liked this man yet. “Nick, no offense, but you still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

  Nick nodded. “Carol and I go way back. Went to high school together if you can believe that. About a year ago, she did me a favor. It was kind of a big favor. I came because she asked me to. Got here as soon as I could.”

  “Did Carol let you in?”

  Nick grinned. It was an ironic grin. “Carol’s still sleeping. Must have taken one of her headache pills. Lisa’s at your folk’s ranch. That was a good move, by the way. Anyway, I thought just us boys could have a chat. So, Bobby… you go by Bobby?”

  Bobby nodded.

  “So what went down here last night Bobby?”

  “You seem to already know what went down, Nick.”

  Nick nodded. “I don’t know what you think went down.”

  Bobby Kent remembered Carol saying that a Roman Legion couldn’t touch her once Nick Williams stood guarding her. Taking in this enigmatic man in these few waking minutes, Bobby suddenly understood what she meant and believed her. Something about the way he moved spoke volumes about years of training and combat experience. Nick moved like a male Jen Thorne. Bobby suddenly knew, without a doubt, that this man was armed to the teeth with concealed weaponry and could turn just as deadly as a viper if provoked to violence.

  “Well, a crazy woman tried to kill Carol. She killed a cop right there in the front lawn and kidnapped her and had her tied up in my music room next door. She was about to drug her and strangle her when I got there.”

  Nick picked up the discarded tea and blew on it quietly, then took a sip. “How did 150 pound Rhonda Regalman get the drop on the 220 pound cop? I assume he was Carol’s protection detail?”

  Bobby found his jaw had clenched. “The cop was assaulting Carol.”

  Nick nodded and looked at Bobby. “How do you feel about the fact he’s dead now, Bobby?”

  That stopped him. He searched his heart and tried to put a name to his feelings. “I’m not exactly sad about it.”

  Nick nodded again. “That sounds about right. So how did you end up putting that 150 pound murdering serial killer in the hospital?”

  Bobby closed his eyes. “I pounded her head into my hardwood floor until she stopped moving.”

  Nick sat down and met Bobby’s eyes. “You should know that I’ve done far worse. It’s taken me some time to come to terms with that. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you alone this morning. I hope it isn’t presumptuous of me.”

  Bobby could tell Nick spoke with deep sincerity. This wasn’t some kind of stunt. This man wanted to help him in some way. Bobby said, “I’ll let you know if it starts bothering me.”

  Nick grinned a toothless, tight-lipped grin. “Never been in a fight before, Bobby? Never put a woman in the hospital? Or anyone for that matter?”

  “I was always tall coming up in school. Never got into a single fight. Later on I had security guards to keep overzealous fans back.”

  Nick nodded. “How do you feel about putting her in the hospital, Bobby?”

  He really had to search his feelings. “She’s crazy. She has a sickness.”

  Nick put his hand up in a halting motion. “We’ll get there. I promise. That isn’t the question yet. Tell me how you feel about the fact that you pounded a woman’s head into your floor until she stopped moving. And I’ll know if you lie to me, so don’t bother.”

  Bobby stared at this strange man. “I’m not sorry.”

  Nick nodded sharply and exactly once. “Right. Okay, let’s talk about her mental state. Hang on.”

  He reached into a cargo pocket and retrieved a dog-eared Soldier’s Bible that had obviously seen better days. He opened it and flipped the pages carefully. Then he cleared his throat and said, “This is from the fifth book of Mark. ‘And when He had come out of the boat, immediately there met Him out of the tombs a man with an unclean spirit, who had his dwelling among the tombs; and no one could bind him, not even with chains, because he had often been bound with shackles and chains. And the chains had been pulled apart by him, and the shackles broken in pieces; neither could anyone tame him. And always, night and day, he was in the mountains and in the tombs, crying out and cutting himself with stones.’ You familiar with this passage?”

  Bobby said, “It’s the story of Christ casting out a legion of demons into a herd of pigs.”

  Nick closed his Bible. “Exactly. This guy cut himself and had a legion of voices in his head.”

  “Are you trying to tell me that the possibility that Rhonda Regalman might have been demon possessed should not escape my attention?”

  Nick took a sip of tea. “I’m saying there are likely more things in heaven and earth, Bobby, than are dreamt of in your philosophies.”

  Bobby smiled, recognizing the paraphrase from Hamlet. “Don’t take this the wrong wa
y, Nick, but you’re a bit of an odd duck.”

  Nick genuinely smiled for the first time since Bobby laid eyes on him. “Now you’re catching on, Bobby.”

  Nick set his tea down and held his hand out. Bobby shook Nick’s hand and the two communicated silently, in the way that men do, that they would be friends for now. When they dropped the hand shake, Nick said, “You did what you had to. In my opinion, you did what you were designed to do. You protected the life of the woman you love, the woman God made to be the mother of your child. Pretty soon, when the remorse comes and it feels like more than you can handle, try to remember that.”

  “Remorse, huh?”

  Nick nodded with a very serious look on his face. “The inevitable remorse. I can’t describe it, but you’ll recognize it here in a few days. It’s just horrible and appalling, but don’t block it out or shut it away. Let yourself experience it. It’s the only way you can heal. What you learn about yourself is going to surprise and sadden you.”

  Bobby shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  Nick nodded. “I know. But you will. Listen, Bobby, I know you don’t know me very well – yet – but I want you to know that you can call me any time, night or day, day or night. You can talk to me about it. When you feel so depressed you feel like you can’t deal with it, you need to remember that you can trust me to tell you the truth and not to judge you.”

  “Is that the message you felt called to deliver this morning, Nick?”

  Nick put his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “Not at first. At first I was going to ask exactly when you intend to make an honest woman of my dear friend, Carol. And if you had no intentions of doing so, I intended to persuade you to change your mind.”

  Bobby smiled the same “star quality” sincere smile that had graced everything from billboards to magazine covers. “That can’t happen soon enough, in my opinion.”

  Nick said, “See? You’re still doing what God created you to do. How about you and I pray for a little while. You go first. Then we’ll scare up some breakfast.”