Weekend Retreat
The day started out like any other day in the mobile unit. KITT came in for service. A potential disaster was averted. Michael came home triumphant. Devon then told Bonnie that they would be home the next day. She met that news with mixed emotions.
Normally she enjoyed coming home after being in the semi, although working on KITT and being able to tinker with the computers was almost like down time for her. Actually, she most enjoyed spending time in the semi as she toyed around with new concepts and trying to see which ones would really work out for KITT. There had been so many new innovations added to him since he was first conceptualized. Bonnie had added the grappling hook, which had on many occasions literally saved Michael's life. Also the oxygen vent to help him any time he had been drugged or needed a little extra help that way. She'd programmed over 2,000 different poisons into his databanks with their potential consequences. He had CO2 in a compartment that was able to douse a fire within 20 feet of the car without endangering the driver. Lately she had been working on a lie detector system. She had loved Wonder Woman comic books as a girl, and thought of this new idea as KITT's golden lasso.
On this day, when Devon told her she needed to prepare to come home after being away for 4 days, she felt an overwhelming reluctance. It wasn't the thought of having to stop toying with the new idea she was playing with. She could easily continue to do that in the lab or in one of the bay areas once they were home. It was the mail she would open after she got home that she was dreading.
While on the road, their mail was held for them and delivered upon arrival at the Foundation. Bonnie was not looking forward to getting another letter from "Carter". She had received two of them so far, both coming to her at her apartment. She didn't have any idea who this guy was, but he seemed to know an inordinate amount of things about her. She could swear she had never met the guy. But he had sent her two letters within the last 7 days, and she found them disturbing. Oddly enough, although she had brought it to work to show Devon, she hadn't said anything to him about either one of them. The first one merely said, "Hi, Bonnie - hope to see you soon. I like the hair cut. Carter." She had only recently had her hair trimmed. He seemed to know about it. She wondered about it, and wracked her brain for the rest of the day trying to figure out who this guy was. She didn't even know if it were his first or last name.
Chalking it up to a too full schedule to remember, she tossed the letter into a drawer when Devon came in. She didn't want to worry him with something that probably was merely a slip of her memory, anyway. Then, they got busy on the case, and she had simply not remembered it again until the day they left. That's when she'd gotten the second one, addressed to Bonnie Barstow at Greenview Terrace Apartments, #212. It had worried her a little. "Bonnie - can't wait until you're back from your trip. I will be sending you a 'present'. - Carter." How did this guy know where she lived? And how did he know that she was going to be gone?
She was going to bring it up to Devon, but he came in with a headache, and she really didn't want to burden him with it. There was no return address, and it had been mailed from a downtown p.o. Shrugging, she opened her drawer and threw it in with the other one. She promised herself she'd show them to Devon when she got home.
They arrived late afternoon, and soon they had pulled out old parts to be overhauled, dirty laundry, and personal items from the semi. But before they even had a chance to get unpacked, Devon had asked her and Michael to go to dinner with him. "Celebratory feast" he called it, and she had laughed at such a grand name for an Italian dinner - spaghetti and a salad, with a basket of garlic toast. Regardless of what he'd called it, she had thoroughly enjoyed it, and so had the two of the men. There was a family feel to their lives right now, and all 3 seemed to be delighted with it. So as they sipped coffee after their meal, tying up the loose ends of their conversation regarding the just finished case that had ended so well, with no gunfire nor anyone being hurt (except for the tap on the jaw Michael had landed to Mr. Meron before he'd brought him in) she brought up the letters.
"Devon, Michael, do you remember anyone named Carter that has been around recently?"
Michael asked, "First or last name?"
"I wish I knew," she answered.
"Why do you ask?" Devon wondered.
"Well, I've been receiving letters from a guy named Carter, and I don't remember meeting him."
"My, my, what a busy social agenda you must have, to have so many men you meet that you can't even remember them all..." Michael teased.
"That's just it, Michael. My life's been busy, but socially, I've been...well, inert."
Devon looked at Michael and grinned. "She means inactive."
"I got it, I got it," Michael grinned back.
"So wouldn't I remember if I had met a guy, and paid enough attention to him to give him my name and address?"
Devon began to look concerned, and Michael was obviously interested in pursuing this. "Do you still have the letters?"
"Yeah, in my top drawer of my desk in the office. He said in the first one he liked my haircut. I only had it done a few weeks ago, and he'd have had to know me before, or he wouldn't have known to comment on it."
"Maybe he was the guy who cut it," Michael suggested.
"My hairdresser is named Michelle, and I think I'd notice if a 'Carter' took her place."
He shrugged as she went on. "He knows where I live , Michael! And he knew I was going to be gone. That's pretty confidential, and I know I wouldn't tell anyone that I was going to go off in the semi for a week - especially someone I had just met!"
They nodded. "When we get home, Bonnie, I want you to show us those letters. This is rather distressing. I hope we aren't dealing with one of those deranged stalkers you read about in the paper."
She shivered. "I think I'm going to be spending the next few nights sleeping with one eye on the door..."
"Stay at the Foundation," Devon suggested.
"But, since I got my own apartment, I feel so...I don't know...not at home when I stay there."
Devon tried not to look stricken. "My dear, you used to stay there all the time."
She wrinkled her nose at him. "I'm a big girl now, Devon. I've got my own place."
He covered her hand with his own. "I know. But even if you'd feel better at your apartment, I believe you'll sleep better at home. I mean, the Foundation."
She again shrugged, this time in resignation. "When you're right, you're right." She grinned at him. "Which seems to be pretty much all the time!"
He shook his head at her as they stood up. "You don't know what such flattery does to my poor old heart."
"'Old heart'?" Michael repeated. "Devon, you'll likely outlive me by ten years!"
"Let's not talk about life expectancy right now, all right Michael?" he asked, nodding slightly toward Bonnie. Michael agreed, and began telling the introduction to a very long, involved joke that they had heard before. Both of them turned in unison, arm in arm, and walked ahead of him out of the restaurant, trying to ignore him while keeping a straight face.
On the way home, Devon suggested they stop at her apartment to get her some fresh clothes. She agreed, and the two of the them escorted her to her apartment. While there, Devon again commented on how much he enjoyed her place, and said he understood her wanting to get back to it. Hopefully, she wouldn't be away for long. It made her feel better.
As they left, she stopped by her mail box and opened it with her key. There, inside, was over a half dozen letters and bills, plus the little yellow slip to show that she had had a package delivered that needed to be picked up at the post office. Her heart sank as she realized that he really had sent her something. She enjoyed getting mail as much as the next girl, but this filled her with an odd sense of foreboding. Devon slipped an arm around her shoulders.
"I'll tell you what we're going to do, my dear. Tomorrow, Michael is going to take that slip to the post office and pick up that package for you. You won't have to worry with it. We'll even let KITT scan it before you open it. Will that make you feel better?"
She nodded as she put her head on his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered gratefully.
The day started out like any other day in the mobile unit. KITT came in for service. A potential disaster was averted. Michael came home triumphant. Devon then told Bonnie that they would be home the next day. She met that news with mixed emotions.
Normally she enjoyed coming home after being in the semi, although working on KITT and being able to tinker with the computers was almost like down time for her. Actually, she most enjoyed spending time in the semi as she toyed around with new concepts and trying to see which ones would really work out for KITT. There had been so many new innovations added to him since he was first conceptualized. Bonnie had added the grappling hook, which had on many occasions literally saved Michael's life. Also the oxygen vent to help him any time he had been drugged or needed a little extra help that way. She'd programmed over 2,000 different poisons into his databanks with their potential consequences. He had CO2 in a compartment that was able to douse a fire within 20 feet of the car without endangering the driver. Lately she had been working on a lie detector system. She had loved Wonder Woman comic books as a girl, and thought of this new idea as KITT's golden lasso.
On this day, when Devon told her she needed to prepare to come home after being away for 4 days, she felt an overwhelming reluctance. It wasn't the thought of having to stop toying with the new idea she was playing with. She could easily continue to do that in the lab or in one of the bay areas once they were home. It was the mail she would open after she got home that she was dreading.
While on the road, their mail was held for them and delivered upon arrival at the Foundation. Bonnie was not looking forward to getting another letter from "Carter". She had received two of them so far, both coming to her at her apartment. She didn't have any idea who this guy was, but he seemed to know an inordinate amount of things about her. She could swear she had never met the guy. But he had sent her two letters within the last 7 days, and she found them disturbing. Oddly enough, although she had brought it to work to show Devon, she hadn't said anything to him about either one of them. The first one merely said, "Hi, Bonnie - hope to see you soon. I like the hair cut. Carter." She had only recently had her hair trimmed. He seemed to know about it. She wondered about it, and wracked her brain for the rest of the day trying to figure out who this guy was. She didn't even know if it were his first or last name.
Chalking it up to a too full schedule to remember, she tossed the letter into a drawer when Devon came in. She didn't want to worry him with something that probably was merely a slip of her memory, anyway. Then, they got busy on the case, and she had simply not remembered it again until the day they left. That's when she'd gotten the second one, addressed to Bonnie Barstow at Greenview Terrace Apartments, #212. It had worried her a little. "Bonnie - can't wait until you're back from your trip. I will be sending you a 'present'. - Carter." How did this guy know where she lived? And how did he know that she was going to be gone?
She was going to bring it up to Devon, but he came in with a headache, and she really didn't want to burden him with it. There was no return address, and it had been mailed from a downtown p.o. Shrugging, she opened her drawer and threw it in with the other one. She promised herself she'd show them to Devon when she got home.
They arrived late afternoon, and soon they had pulled out old parts to be overhauled, dirty laundry, and personal items from the semi. But before they even had a chance to get unpacked, Devon had asked her and Michael to go to dinner with him. "Celebratory feast" he called it, and she had laughed at such a grand name for an Italian dinner - spaghetti and a salad, with a basket of garlic toast. Regardless of what he'd called it, she had thoroughly enjoyed it, and so had the two of the men. There was a family feel to their lives right now, and all 3 seemed to be delighted with it. So as they sipped coffee after their meal, tying up the loose ends of their conversation regarding the just finished case that had ended so well, with no gunfire nor anyone being hurt (except for the tap on the jaw Michael had landed to Mr. Meron before he'd brought him in) she brought up the letters.
"Devon, Michael, do you remember anyone named Carter that has been around recently?"
Michael asked, "First or last name?"
"I wish I knew," she answered.
"Why do you ask?" Devon wondered.
"Well, I've been receiving letters from a guy named Carter, and I don't remember meeting him."
"My, my, what a busy social agenda you must have, to have so many men you meet that you can't even remember them all..." Michael teased.
"That's just it, Michael. My life's been busy, but socially, I've been...well, inert."
Devon looked at Michael and grinned. "She means inactive."
"I got it, I got it," Michael grinned back.
"So wouldn't I remember if I had met a guy, and paid enough attention to him to give him my name and address?"
Devon began to look concerned, and Michael was obviously interested in pursuing this. "Do you still have the letters?"
"Yeah, in my top drawer of my desk in the office. He said in the first one he liked my haircut. I only had it done a few weeks ago, and he'd have had to know me before, or he wouldn't have known to comment on it."
"Maybe he was the guy who cut it," Michael suggested.
"My hairdresser is named Michelle, and I think I'd notice if a 'Carter' took her place."
He shrugged as she went on. "He knows where I live , Michael! And he knew I was going to be gone. That's pretty confidential, and I know I wouldn't tell anyone that I was going to go off in the semi for a week - especially someone I had just met!"
They nodded. "When we get home, Bonnie, I want you to show us those letters. This is rather distressing. I hope we aren't dealing with one of those deranged stalkers you read about in the paper."
She shivered. "I think I'm going to be spending the next few nights sleeping with one eye on the door..."
"Stay at the Foundation," Devon suggested.
"But, since I got my own apartment, I feel so...I don't know...not at home when I stay there."
Devon tried not to look stricken. "My dear, you used to stay there all the time."
She wrinkled her nose at him. "I'm a big girl now, Devon. I've got my own place."
He covered her hand with his own. "I know. But even if you'd feel better at your apartment, I believe you'll sleep better at home. I mean, the Foundation."
She again shrugged, this time in resignation. "When you're right, you're right." She grinned at him. "Which seems to be pretty much all the time!"
He shook his head at her as they stood up. "You don't know what such flattery does to my poor old heart."
"'Old heart'?" Michael repeated. "Devon, you'll likely outlive me by ten years!"
"Let's not talk about life expectancy right now, all right Michael?" he asked, nodding slightly toward Bonnie. Michael agreed, and began telling the introduction to a very long, involved joke that they had heard before. Both of them turned in unison, arm in arm, and walked ahead of him out of the restaurant, trying to ignore him while keeping a straight face.
On the way home, Devon suggested they stop at her apartment to get her some fresh clothes. She agreed, and the two of the them escorted her to her apartment. While there, Devon again commented on how much he enjoyed her place, and said he understood her wanting to get back to it. Hopefully, she wouldn't be away for long. It made her feel better.
As they left, she stopped by her mail box and opened it with her key. There, inside, was over a half dozen letters and bills, plus the little yellow slip to show that she had had a package delivered that needed to be picked up at the post office. Her heart sank as she realized that he really had sent her something. She enjoyed getting mail as much as the next girl, but this filled her with an odd sense of foreboding. Devon slipped an arm around her shoulders.
"I'll tell you what we're going to do, my dear. Tomorrow, Michael is going to take that slip to the post office and pick up that package for you. You won't have to worry with it. We'll even let KITT scan it before you open it. Will that make you feel better?"
She nodded as she put her head on his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered gratefully.