CHAPTER 7—MASS CONFUSION
Loralei threw the large duffel bag she had snagged from her husband's closet into the trunk of the car. She hadn't packed much, because she didn't intend to stay there very long. Her parents were thrilled to have her, but they didn't quite understand her sudden decision to visit them. They had last seen her only a few weeks ago at the wedding. She didn't tell them about the baby, and probably wouldn't for a while. She simply didn't want to jinx it. After climbing behind the wheel of the car, she sat and stared straight ahead for twenty minutes or more. She debated with her conscious the entire time, trying to decide whether to stay or go. Her brain pushed her onward, but her heart wanted to keep her with Donovan. If she stayed, he would never forgive her. If she left, she would never forgive herself. Pitifully, she buried her face in her hands and began to sob uncontrollably. This entire horrible situation had literally torn her apart. She didn't want to go, but she couldn't stay. Right at that moment, she wanted her husband in her arms, wanted to forget all about the hell that had come to revisit them. She needed him to hold her, needed the comfort of his warm embrace. It took a long time for her to calm down. Struggling mightily against her inner demons, she revved the engine to life and put the car in gear. At the first rest stop, she intended to call Donovan; she had to hear his voice.
* * *
Although he hated himself for doubting his wife, Donovan borrowed Cody's car to ensure that Loralei had gone. He was somewhat relieved not to see his car parked in the garage, but of course, that didn't mean anything. She could have simply moved it to another slot. He hadn't wanted to send her away, hadn't wanted to be separated from her for five minutes, and he hoped she hadn't decided to go against his wishes. He slid the car into a vacant parking slot and vacated the vehicle as quickly as possible. He trotted up several flights of stairs until he made it up to their floor. Please don't let her be in here, he thought as he stared at the door. He unlocked the door and pushed it open. The darkened living room lifted some of the weight off his shoulders, but it still didn't exactly prove anything. He wasn't completely satisfied until he searched the entire apartment and discovered that his duffel bag was missing. He checked the closet and found that some of her clothing was missing as well. Thank God. Donovan found himself gazing down at the bed. At that moment, he felt a tremendous ache in his heart. He wanted to hold his wife in his arms and forget everything, even if it was just for one night. Immensely depressed now, he left the bedroom and reentered the living room. He needed to leave, needed to get out. Here, he could only think about Loralei. He grabbed Cody's key-filled ring and almost had his hand on the doorknob. Something stopped him. He wasn't sure what drew his attention to the mail. He hadn't even glanced at it since Saturday night.
Absently, he approached the low credenza where they stacked unopened mail, key rings, magazines, etc. His eyes fell on a letter from his brother. It had been in the stack with the neon green card from Kelly Bartlet, but he had been so concerned about Loralei and the baby that he hadn't given it a second thought. He knew he shouldn't focus on it now. After all, he had more than enough to occupy his mind without throwing another piece of grief into the mixing bowl. Some weird impulse drew him to the letter. He picked up the envelope and stared down at it for what seemed like a dry age. Donovan hadn't heard from his brother in over a year. He had sent him a wedding invitation, but never received an RSVP. It was typical. The Donovan brothers had never meshed well. He had little patience with fuck ups, and his brother fit that mode well. It seemed as if he consistently tried to get into trouble. Donovan loved his brother, but neither could ever get along with the other. So, he didn't understand why he would write after all this time. What have you done now, Farron, he wondered.
Already disturbed by having to send his wife away, nothing his brother had to say would shock him further. He tore open the envelope and briefly skimmed over Farron's usual bullshit. The only thing that caught his attention was his casual mentioning of having spoken to a relative of one of his old flames. Wasn't Kelly Bartlet your girlfriend once, he had asked. The most bizarre thing happened to me a couple of weeks ago. Kelly's aunt called and said she wanted to send you and your new wife a wedding present. Donovan didn't bother reading further, didn't bother to read any explanation Farron might have included. He balled up the letter in his fist. He finally understood how Kelly had gotten his and Loralei's address. Goddamn you, he thought, ready to kill his brother. Farron knew that his status was such that he just couldn't give his address out to anybody. Yet, he gave it to the very person that shouldn't have ever found him again. His brother had no idea, no idea at all. Donovan hadn't mentioned to his family what transpired between him and Kelly. He had wanted to bury it, to put it behind him, to run from it. It wasn't Farron's fault at all, but he was so angry he could hardly think straight. Without hesitation, he tossed the letter and its envelope into the trashcan. He would deal with Farron later. Right now, he had too much on his mind, and his brother could wait.
* * *
Loralei had driven for thirty minutes or more in total silence, and she couldn't stand it any longer. She jabbed at the power key on the car stereo and soft music wafted from the speakers. Oh, hell no. She loved her husband, but he had shitty taste in music. This hideous Wal-Mart music was absolutely dreadful. She had a long trip ahead of her, and couldn't spend it listening to music that would induce her into a deep coma. She punched the preset buttons, knowing that her favorite stations were in there somewhere. She heard the clash of drums and a screaming guitar. Ah, here we go. The driving hard rock music began to pump adrenaline through her, and for the first time since leaving, she felt halfway okay. However, it was a false sense of well-being.
A song was interrupted by a news bulletin: "Two patients escaped tonight from Rockbridge Hospital. They have been identified as Kelly Bartlet and Carly Butler. Carly Butler is the notorious Black Heart Killer responsible for a string of murders in at least five states…"
She heard nothing further after that. Her mind went numb, blank, and dead. Escape? Impossible. Not together. Not those two. She didn't have to think very hard to know where they were destined to appear. Am I dreaming, she thought. I must be dreaming. I must have fallen asleep at the wheel. Maybe I didn't change the station fast enough and I have been lulled asleep. Any moment now, the car will careen off the road and hit a guardrail, and I'll be awake. Oh God, oh dear God. Frank, I must get to Frank. She took the nearest exit, driving crazily, and turned back toward home. Steering with one hand, she opened the console and dug around inside until her hands fell on the spare cell phone Donovan kept inside for emergencies. She hoped the damn battery was still good.
* * *
Kit's car was a piece of shit. It whined and wheezed like an old asthmatic dog. The transmission also had a grinding sound that made Black Heart nervous. It probably wouldn't make the trip back to Chicago. Besides, she was more than certain the hospital knew they were gone, and they would have to dump the car anyway. Black Heart knew nothing about hotwiring cars, so they would have to get one by other means. She had used her body before, and wouldn't hesitate to use it again. She glanced over at Bridal Babe and noticed that the chick wouldn't stop looking at those pitiful bridal magazines. Perhaps she would rid herself of this burden before she confronted the Donovans. This psycho bitch was a thorn in her side, a blatant liability. She didn't have much time to fuck around. She still had a bank account and a new identity awaiting her in Louisiana. She would go there as soon as she rid the world of Frank and Loralei Donovan.
Black Heart had tried to tell Bridal Babe what their next course of action would be, but she simply smiled widely and giggled. She'd follow along with whatever she wanted. Bridal Babe hadn't swallowed the medication Kit had given her tonight in order to be more 'lucid.' However, she appeared to be slipping into some kind of shaky psychosis. If she fucks this up for me, I'm going to jerk her eyeballs out of their sockets and make her eat them. She pulled over on a darkened country road and killed the headlights. They both looked ridiculous in the baggy hospital scrubs, but there was little they could do. Bridal Babe would never look sexy regardless of anything she did. She was a sick, sick woman. The two women climbed out of the car, and Bridal Babe nearly freaked out when Black Heart suggested that she leave the magazines behind.
"No, no," she begged as she plunged into some deep psychotic pool, "I have to show them to Frankie. He has to help me pick out the wedding dress."
Exasperated, Black Heart took Bridal Babe by the arm and dragged her toward the back of the car. There had to be something inside that could alter the scrubs enough where they could look like 'normal' clothing. She needed a pair of scissors, and hoped she could find some in the trunk, perhaps in a first aid kit. However, she wasn't expecting her luck to run smoothly. It would be too damn easy. She popped open the trunk as Bridal Babe whirled and twirled behind her, doing some type of dance. Sighing impatiently, she dug around in the dark interior of the trunk, throwing aside anything she didn't need. I could use a fucking flashlight, she grumbled to herself. Her hands landed on something large and solid. It wasn't a pair of scissors, but it would prove to be very useful.
"Kelly," Black Heart called sweetly. "Could you come here, darling? I want to show you something."
"Of course," she giggled. "Oh yes, of course."
As Bridal Babe approached, Black Heart swung her arm out in a wide arc. Kelly Bartlet never knew what hit her. Black Heart stripped off Bridal Babe's top and wiped her blood off the stained tire tool. She would have to use it again soon, and she might even use it on the Donovans. She stared at the heavy piece of metal for a long time. She wondered who she should kill first. Should she go for the man or the woman? She giggled, thinking that Bridal Babe's insanity must be contagious. Hadn't she had the same thought before? Hadn't that thought crossed her mind the first time she encountered Frank Donovan and Loralei Kadin? Oh well, those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. Ugh. She tossed that thought out of her mind. She sounded like one of them. She giggled again. Them? Who were they? Don't tell me I'm getting paranoid. With a grunt, she lifted Bridal Babe's prone body and struggled with her dead weight until she finally had it placed inside the trunk. Before she slammed it shut, she grabbed the magazine the Babe had been clutching in her hand. She would need it. On the back, Bridal Babe had scribbled the new address of the Donovans. She had to get moving. She had a date to keep, and a bank account to raid.
* * *
The speedometer needle hung close to ninety. Loralei hadn't gotten that far out of town, but there was some type of roadblock a few miles ahead. She could see the flashing lights of several police cruisers and a couple of ambulances. Dear God, I'll never get there in time. She looked down at the cell phone. She had yet to turn it on because she was afraid. She was almost certain that the battery would be dead. If that were the case, she'd have no choice but to break into the middle of the roadblock and demand assistance. Holding her breath, she stabbed the power key. The phone had plenty of juice. She had once scolded her husband because he was too meticulous and over prepared. However, as she watched the phone light up, she praised those annoying quirks. She would never complain about it again. Her relief was short-lived. To her sheer horror, there was no signal. With a frustrated cry, she threw the phone down. It was useless to her, so utterly fucking useless. She brought the car to a jarring halt. The police and ambulances were only a few short feet away. There had been some type of accident, and by the look of it, no one would be getting anywhere fast tonight. Her only hope, her only chance, was the emergency personnel ahead.
* * *
Donovan stood and gazed blankly out the window. There weren't many other steps left to take at this point. He refused to leave, refused to go home. Something out of the norm nagged at him. He felt apprehensive and shaky. He didn't like that feeling. It normally precluded some horrible event. It was customary for him to act on his gut instinct, and right now, he sensed that something had gone terribly wrong. He went to the phone and dialed Rockbridge. There was no answer, no mechanical voice telling him to hold the line. There was nothing more than a busy signal. He didn't like that; he didn't like that at all. He was about to rush downstairs to bark a string of commands, but Cody's voice stopped him dead in his tracks. The look on Cody's face was enough to tell him what had happened, but he needed to hear the words.
"Just received word, Boss," he said, sighing. "Kelly Bartlet and Carly Butler escaped Rockbridge…"
Donovan zoned out totally. He didn't hear the rest of Cody's sentence. Kelly Bartlet and Black Heart. Together. It was hard to reconcile. Outside, he maintained his usual 'ice-man' exterior. He appeared calm and collected. However, inside, he had to fight desperately against his impending panic. His only saving grace was the knowledge that Loralei was safe. He had followed his instincts. He had sent Loralei away, and it appeared he had done so for a reason. Had he expected this to happen? Another thought entered his mind. Had Loralei heard? If she had, she would return. No, he thought, surely not. She had understood him. She had left. She wouldn't come back. Would she? Would she?
Gaining control of his emotions, he said, "They'll come looking for me and Loralei. They know our address." He wasn't looking at either Cody or Monica. His eyes were focused on some object only he could see. "Get Jake and Alex, have them come here immediately." Without another word, he went back upstairs and grabbed the phone.
* * *
Loralei ran out to the crowd of medical personnel and law enforcement. Two police officers stood guard behind a barrier of yellow crime scene tape. There were three or four cars smashed into each other. She tried to get the attention of the cops standing nearby, but they weren't acknowledging her. Damn them, she thought. They had to help her. She had to get to Donovan before it was too late.
"Listen to me," she cried. "I need your help." The noise was tremendous. Her loud cry for help probably seemed no louder than a whisper to them. She needed a bullhorn. It would be the only way they would hear her. "Hey! Goddamn it! Listen to me! I need your fucking help," she screamed as loud as her vocal cords would allow.
* * *
Goddamn it. Donovan slammed the phone back into its cradle. He had just spoken to Loralei's mother. They hadn't heard from her since her last call before her departure. She should have called them by now. Shit, she should have called him by now. He stood leaning over his desk, wondering what he could do. Suddenly, he remembered the backup phone in the car. She knew about it and had probably gotten it out by now. He reached for the phone again and quickly dialed the number. He listened to a mechanical voice telling him that the cell was in a dead zone. Donovan slammed the phone down again, hard enough to crack the receiver. If she had heard, he didn't doubt she would come back. Her heart wouldn't let her stay away. Her love for him was so deep that she wouldn't think twice about throwing herself in the mix. He and the team would have to get to the escapees before Loralei managed to get back home.
The phone rang suddenly, shrilly. He reached for it impatiently. "Donovan," he spat.
Incredible, ear splitting static came over the line. "Goddamn, this reception sucks," the voice of his wife said. "Frank, can you hear me?"
Another burst of static issued forth. In the background, he could have sworn he heard sirens and dozens upon dozens of strange voices. What the fuck was going on? "Where are you," he demanded.
"About thirty or so miles from you," she shouted over the static. "Listen to me, Frank, Bartlet and Black Heart escaped. I'm on my way back."
"No," he shouted back. "I will not let you do that, Loralei. Your destination is Missouri, and you damn well better go. Don't come back here. Don't do it."
"I'm sorry, Frank. The situation is totally different now. I'm coming back despite what you say," she spat stubbornly. "I can't stay away, not now."
"Goddamn it, Loralei. Listen to me." In the background, he could hear a man's voice asking for the phone, saying something that sounded like 'end the call.'
"Sorry, I have to hang up now. We have a situation here," the man's voice said sternly.
"Who is this," Donovan demanded. "Identify yourself."
"Sir, I'm Trooper Harris of the state police."
He nodded. Good. "This is Frank Donovan. I'm a special ops agent for the Justice Department. I don't care if you believe that or not, I can verify it for you when I have more time. The woman who was just on the phone cannot leave. Do what you must to keep her there, even if it means taking her into custody. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir, but in order to hold her, your story is going to have to check out."
"It will, I assure you." He could hear more noise in the background. It sounded as if there were a dozen or more people arguing and yelling. "Tell me what's going on. Trooper Harris? Trooper Harris? Are you there?"
"She's gone, sir."
Three words. They were very simple words, totally and completely innocent. However, each one was like a knife going straight through Donovan's heart.