"Home For The Holidays"
Written by: Linda Ford and CoronetBlue
Directed by: Julia R.
Producer(s): Lea Ames and CoronetBlue
Post Production: Brixius and R.A.
Creator: Roy Huggins
PROLOGUE
VIRGINIA BEACH, VIRGINIA - FIRST WEEK OF DECEMBER, 2001
A hand opens a mailbox and drops in a letter. The camera pulls back to show Richard Kimble, tanned and looking healthy again. He smiles. His ponytail and sideburns are longer and on the left side of his face is the tattoo of a phoenix. Kimble heads a short ways up the beach-side street, then enters a T-shirt shop. An assortment of shirts hang in the window: Metallica, Grateful Dead, Virginia is for Lovers, Hug a Tree, Peas on Earth, etc. Painted on the glass in flaming letters is the name 'Paradise Tees'.
INSIDE THE PARADISE TEES SHOP
"Back from lunch already?" a young man, with an even longer blond ponytail, asks Kimble.
"Yeah, I'll take over," Kimble tells him, going to the cash register. High on the walls of the shop more shirts are displayed.
A bald biker with numerous tattoos and body rings brings his purchase to the counter. "I'm also thinking about ordering five shirts, like that one up there with the sun. Do you do the airbrushing?"
"No, I just work here, the owner is the artist," Kimble answers, ringing up the purchase.
"That's cool. How long will it take to do all five?"
"What do you want on them?" Kimble asks, putting the receipt in the bag.
The biker pulls a sketch from the pocket of his faded denim vest. "Our name, 'Rad Road Avengers', with a flaming sword and whatever the artist can add to that."
"He's got another order to finish first, so you might check back Friday," Kimble says, handing him the bag.
"Sure, will do. Thanks, man." The biker saunters out, rubbing one hand over his smooth head.
CHICAGO - THE HUME LIVING ROOM - SECOND WEEK OF DECEMBER
Maggie Kimble Hume is going through her mail. Spotting familiar handwriting on an envelope, she checks the post-mark.
"Virginia Beach," she says aloud. Hurriedly opening the letter, Maggie hears Richard's voice speaking as she reads.
Dear Maggie,
I needed to write and let you know I am OK and hoping you are too. Since the terrible events of September 11, I have missed being with you and the kids even more, if that's possible. I hate to say it has been beneficial to me, but with local police forces and the FBI concentrating on terrorist activities, I've been able to relax a little and rest up in an off-season rental. I know it won't last, but I'm grateful to stop the running, even if just for a few months.
I wish we could be together for the holidays. I'm going to miss Dad. I'll light a candle at midnight mass."
"Signed, 'OBFL'," Maggie says to herself. She smiles, even as her eyes mist.
Stuart, unpacking a box of Christmas decorations at her feet, pulls out a gold-winged angel ornament.
"Look, Mom, I found the angel!" he says, holding it up.
"Then you get to hang it on the tree," she tells him, folding Kimble's letter.
"I'm going to hang it for Uncle Richard," Stuart tells her solemnly.
Maggie looks proudly at her son. "That's a good idea, Stu. A very good idea."
TASK FORCE OFFICES - MONDAY, DEC. 17, 8:00 A.M.
The entire team is present and expectant. All eyes turn as Philip Gerard steps out of the elevator, briefcase in hand.
"Welcome back, Captain!" every voice choruses.
Gerard stops just inside the room and surveys his Team. He realizes he has been missed. "Thank you," he says, his tone a little deeper than usual. "It's good to be back."
"Just so you know," Eddie Miles says, "we protested your suspension."
"Each of us did," Eve Hilliard affirms.
"Good to see you on the Team again, Eve," Gerard acknowledges. "The F.B.I.'s loss is our gain."
"I would have gone to North Carolina with you, Captain," Art Zimmerman puts in, "if not for the flu."
"I'm sure of it," the Captain responds dryly, heading for his office.
"Now that all travel restrictions have been lifted, just say the word and I'll fly anywhere," Art promises. "Well...that is, after the holidays I will. My wife and I have patched up our differences and I want to stay in her good graces."
Gerard turns and sets his briefcase down on the nearest desk. "I take it the trail has grown cold while I've been gone." "Jerry Walston's been using us for everything BUT the Kimble case," Victor Gutierrez gripes.
"As of now, you're all back on the job. Art, I want you to send out this new press release immediately." Gerard pulls out a sheet of paper from his briefcase and hands it to Zimmerman. "We've got to get Kimble back in the national eye. Our best hope is to keep his face continually in the media until some good citizen does the right thing and turns him in."
"Consider it done, Captain," Art says with alacrity.
"Also, I'm hoping Kimble will let down his guard and call his family over Christmas. So, I've convinced the powers that be to let us put a trace on Maggie Kimble Hume's phone," Gerard continues.
Hilliard's eyes grow bright with interest.
"BUT, and this is a big 'but'," Gerard cautions. "I could only convince them to give it to me for twenty-four hours, starting midnight Christmas Eve. Bottom line—I need volunteers to monitor her calls for each of the three shifts. If Kimble phones, you are to trace the call and alert me as soon as you have a location." He turns from one to the other for takers.
"Come on, Captain, you can't be serious! Not on Christmas!" protests Eddie.
"I'm very serious. Kimble went to elaborate measures to get that bone marrow transplant for his sister. He'll call her!"
Art sinks lower in his chair. "If I'm not home Christmas Day, I'll be back in the doghouse," he says mournfully.
Leaning over to Art, Eddie barks, "Arf, arf!"
"Yes, Eddie? Are you volunteering?" Gerard asks. "It's double time."
"Well, when you put it that way, I'll take the morning shift," Eddie capitulates. "I have to be at my parents' Christmas Eve. Anyway, I don't believe in Santa Claus."
"Good. I'll take the graveyard shift before yours," Gerard decides. "That way I can spend Christmas Day with Alex. Takers for the last shift?"
"Put me down, Captain," Eve says. "I don't have any big plans for that evening."
"Fine. I appreciate your cooperation," Gerard tells them, closing his briefcase. "Back to work, everyone. We've got lost time to make up for!"
As soon as Gerard has disappeared into his office, Eddie whistles. "Geez, can you believe the Captain? His first day back and already he's got our noses to the grindstone. Maybe we should call this the Scrooge and Marley Task Force!"
Gerard's door opens. "I heard that, Agent Miles. The ghost of Jacob Marley has been put to rest...months ago." He retreats again into his office.
Gutierrez shakes his head. "Did I miss something?"
"Search me," Eddie says. "Hey, Eve, I thought you and I were getting together later Christmas Day. What was that crack about your having no plans?"
"No 'big' plans. Some of us actually hope to intercept a call from Kimble," Hilliard says, a bit frostily, as she heads for the coffee machine.
Eddie shrugs his shoulders and follows her. "You should watch that tendency to turn into Ms. Scrooge, yourself," he comments.
"Why did you volunteer, Eddie?" Eve questions.
"I had a run of bad luck in poker. I can use the extra moolah."
"Un-huh," she retorts.
Victor Gutierrez picks up his empty mug. "Need a refill?" he asks Zimmerman.
Art checks his coffee cup. "Still full, thanks." He busies himself reading the press release. Then, seeing he is momen-tarily alone, Art scratches out 'For Immediate Release' and pencils in 'For release Dec. 26.' "There. That should keep the wife happy! Merry Christmas, Dr. Kimble," he says under his breath.
VIRGINIA BEACH - EDGAR CAYCE LIBRARY - DEC. 18, 2:00 P.M.
Kimble is deeply absorbed as he studies various alternative medical journals. People quietly come and go between the CD-ROM room behind him and the shelves featuring the readings of Edgar Cayce, father of holistic medicine. After a while, Kimble gets up to return the journals and to browse the magazine rack. He selects a University of Virginia publication with an article on leukemia.
Settling down again, Kimble flips to the article. He turns the page, then— doubting his eyes—peers more closely at a photo accompanying the interview. The picture is of a doctor at St. Vincent's Hospital, Milwaukee. But Kimble's attention is focused on the janitor caught unawares in the background. It is the man he knows only as 'Smith282'.
Looking over his shoulder, Kimble pulls out a pen knife and carefully cuts out the picture. He replaces the magazine and leaves, taking the stairs two at a time.
MILWAUKEE, WISCONSIN - A BUSY STREET - DEC. 21 - AFTERNOON
Snow lies in dirty drifts against the sidewalks. The sky is heavy with winter clouds. Holiday shoppers glance up occa-sionally as if expecting more snow. Richard Kimble walks among them, trying to keep warm in his thin work jacket, hands in his pockets. His dark hair is newly cropped and he is clean-shaven—the tattoo gone. After three months in the temperate south, he is feeling the cold. He looks up and for a moment his light gray contacts reflect the color of the sky.
Kimble takes in the rosy faces around him—shoppers whose arms are loaded with packages, some laughing and eager for Christmas, others looking tired and rushed. He passes brightly lit displays in the store windows, and a friendly bell ringer beside the Salvation Army pot. Kimble stops to toss some loose change into the pot.
"Thank you, brother," the Salvation Army soldier acknowledges, his breath steaming in the frosty air. "Merry Christ-mas to you!"
Kimble nods and moves on, feeling little of the holiday spirit himself. As he nears the entrance of St. Vincent's Hospi-tal, his pace quickens purposefully.
ST. VINCENT'S HOSPITAL - HUMAN RESOURCES OFFICE
Kimble rubs his hands together, shaking off the cold, as he stands in line at the reception desk. A grandmotherly lady ahead of him is talking earnestly with the heavy-set receptionist.
"But I was to meet Mr. Thomas here! My daughter requires an in-home caregiver so that she can spend the holidays with us. It's all been arranged." The lady appears distressed.
The receptionist is short on patience, herself. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Baldwin. No one told me anything about it. Why don't you go on up and visit with your daughter while I see what I can find out."
"Thank you," the lady says and turns to call a little girl of about five in pigtails. "Come, Tammi, let's go see Mommy." Kimble steps up to the window, but the receptionist ignores him.
Making a phone call, she says, "Hello, this is St. Vincent's Hospital. I understand you were supposed to send a home health aide over this afternoon for a Mrs. Baldwin? Yes...I'll hold." She turns to Kimble. "I'll be with you in a moment,
sir." Kimble fidgets as the receptionist waits on hold for several minutes. Then she listens again, her face registering displeasure. "Well, if he had a family emergency, it would be nice if you had given us notice. We're very short-staffed right now. This is Christmas, you know!" Angrily, she hangs up the phone. Pinning Kimble with a no-nonsense gaze she says, "And how may I help you?"
Kimble pulls out the clipping of Smith282 and shows it to her. "I'm looking for an old friend of mine. I was wondering if you could tell me how to get in touch with him? Last I heard, he was working here."
"I'm sorry, we can't give out information on our employees," she answers brusquely.
Kimble tries another tactic. "Look, I'm not asking for myself. His father is really sick. They haven't spoken in years and he wants to get in touch with his son. I told him I'd try to reach him. Please, it's Christmas."
The receptionist looks hard at Kimble to see if he's being sarcastic. "What's your friend's name?" Kimble freezes. There is a moment of silence.
The receptionist shakes her head stubbornly. "I can't help you. It's against hospital regulations. You'll have to find your 'friend' some other way." She turns abruptly away.
Kimble walks off, frustrated, but already coming up with another plan. Getting on the elevator, he heads for the Ob/Gyn wing.
THE OB/GYN WING
Going directly to the nurse's station, Kimble says, "Excuse me."
The young nurse behind the desk looks up with a kind smile.
"My wife was in the lobby and...well, she has morning sickness and there's a bit of a mess to clean up," Kimble lies. "Could you call one of the janitors?"
"Sure, is your wife OK?" she asks, sympathetically.
"She's fine now, thanks, but the floor isn't."
THE LOBBY - MOMENTS LATER
Kimble watches the lobby unobtrusively from inside the snack room. After a short while, an elderly black custodian enters the area with a mop and pail. He looks about for something to clean up. Keenly disappointed to see it isn't Smith282, Kimble walks out.
The custodian turns to Kimble. "You see some lady throwing up around here?"
"No," Kimble replies innocently. "But I could use your help. I'm looking for an old high school buddy. I haven't seen him in years, but I think he works here. Do you know him?" He pulls out the clipping.
The old man squints. "Sure, that's Bill Walsh. You a buddy of his? That guy don't act like he got no friends." Kimble laughs uneasily. "It's been some time. Do you know where I can find him?"
"Well...Bill works in Wing 4, normally." The man takes his time stringing his thoughts together. "But they cut back on our hours...because of the holidays, you see. He won't be in 'til after Christmas."
"Do you know where he lives?"
"Nope. He don't talk much, that one. Like I said, no friends."
"Thanks a lot for your help," Kimble says.
"Have yourself a happy Christmas, now," the black man replies.
"You, too." Kimble heads absently down a corridor, pondering what to do until the 26th. A woman's voice calling, "Tammi!" startles him out of his thoughts.
A mother in a manually driven wheelchair is awkwardly trying to keep up with an excited little girl in pigtails. Kimble recognizes the child from the Human Resources office. Intercepting her, he gently takes her by the hand and brings her back to the woman in the wheelchair.
"Tammi, I told you to stay with me! Thank you," the woman tells Kimble gratefully.
An approaching nurse sees the two talking. "You must be Mr. Thomas," she says delightedly to Kimble, coming over. Kimble is about to protest, but the nurse doesn't give him a chance. "We're all so glad Sharon will be able to go home for the holidays. It will do her a world of good to be with her family before she starts rehabilitation." She puts a hand on Sharon's shoulder and gives it a reassuring pat. "Sharon is one of our really special patients."
Coming up behind them, Mrs. Baldwin says to her daughter, "I don't know what to do, sweetheart. I can't seem to find out anything." Then she no-tices Kimble and looks at him inquiringly. He realizes the receptionist has never gotten back to her.
The nurse greets Sharon's mother. "Elaine, I was just telling Mr. Thomas how glad we all are that Sharon will be going home for a few days." Turn-ing to the woman in the wheelchair, she continues, "You have a Merry Christmas, Sharon. We'll miss you. You too, Tammi. Take care of your mom." She reaches down to give the small girl a hug, then continues up the corridor, waving goodbye.
Elaine turns to Kimble. "Mr. Thomas," she says engagingly, extending a
hand. "Elaine Baldwin. We were afraid you wouldn't be coming! I'm so happy that you'll be able to help us out after all."
Kimble finds himself wanting to admit the mix-up, yet unable to turn this family down. He shakes her hand, managing a weak smile.
"Is that all you brought with you?" she asks, indicating Kimble's duffle bag. He nods. "Well, then, let's get going, shall we? Tammi has been waiting for this day for weeks!"
Tammi bounces up and down beside her mother's wheelchair. "Mommy's coming home, Mommy's coming home!" she sings.
Kimble takes Sharon's wheelchair and, marveling at the turn of events, follows Mrs. Baldwin out the entrance.
DRIVEWAY OF THE BALDWIN HOME - 30 MIN. LATER
A Chevrolet Caprice pulls up outside a mid-western style house with a tree-lined yard. Kimble emerges from the backseat of the car and goes around to the trunk. Tammi jumps down to watch as Kimble sets up her mother's foldable wheelchair. He wheels it alongside the car and reaches in to lift Sharon out. She puts an arm around his neck and he easily transfers her to the chair.
"I can do this part myself," she says, steering the chair up the front walk.
INTERIOR OF THE BALDWIN HOME
Kimble sets the wheelchair down inside the front hall. Sharon looks all around and takes a deep breath.
"It smells like home!" she says feelingly.
"It should," Elaine laughs. "And wait till we begin the Christmas baking." She helps Sharon off with her coat.
"You haven't started yet?" Sharon asks.
"Of course not. We saved that for you!" her mother replies, pleased that Sharon has something to look forward to. She hangs their coats on the hall rack, noticing that Kimble's is just a thin jacket.
Sharon steers into the living room, Kimble behind her. Bright holiday decorations are out on the mantle and coffee table, and a wreath adorns the fireplace—though he notices there is no Christmas tree.
"We're getting a tree tomorrow," Tammi chimes in, echoing his thoughts. "A real one!" "I figured you'd want to help decorate it," Elaine says, standing in the doorway.
"Oh, Mom, it's so good to be home, I've missed everything so much!" Sharon's eyes glisten. Elaine comes over and gives her daughter a heartfelt hug.
"Do you feel like resting for a bit?" she asks solicitously.
"No way, that's all I've been doing. The last thing I want to see is a bed. Let's do something," Sharon says.
An excited Tammi shouts, "Candyland! Candyland!"
"Why don't you two set up the game in the dining room while I talk to Mr. Thomas," Elaine suggests, seating herself in a striped wingchair. Tammi runs to find the game, while Sharon wheels into the next room. Elaine watches them go, then turns to Kimble, who sits on the couch opposite.
"I can't thank you enough for coming out here during the holidays, Mr. Thomas," she tells him, "or do you prefer to be called...?"
Kimble looks at her blankly, realizing he does not know the aide's first name. "Stephen or Steve?" she finishes for him, and Kimble quietly breathes his relief. "Steve is fine."
"Good! When home health said you'd be willing to come from out of town, Steve, it was truly an answer to prayer. Sharon has been in the hospital ever since the car accident, so it means a great deal to us to have her home for a little while. I've arranged a bedroom for her in the backroom, as she won't be able to manage the stairs. This isn't a large house, but I put a cot in the pantry for you. That way you'll be nearby if Sharon requires assistance during the night." She rises. "Would you like to get settled in now?"
"Yes, that would be fine." Kimble picks up his bag and follows her into the hall.
"It's not much, I'm afraid," Elaine apologizes, leading him past the kitchen. She opens the door beyond. "Here's the pantry. I emptied some shelves in the cupboard for your use. This other door leads to the cellar. It can get chilly in here, so I put an extra blanket out. You'll find towels in the downstairs bathroom."
"Thank you, Mrs. Baldwin," Kimble says gratefully, setting his bag by the foot of the bed.
"Elaine, please," she replies. "If you need anything else, just ask." She leaves, closing the door partway to give him some privacy. Kimble quickly unpacks his few belongings, including a case and cleaning solution for his contacts. He is about to sit down on the cot when Tammi comes running in.
"We need you to play, too!" she says, grabbing his hand.
THE DINING ROOM - 5:00 P.M.
They are all gathered around the dining room table, the Candyland board spread in the middle. Kimble is close towinning, but he draws his card and pretends to be disappointed. Laying down the 'candy cane', he reluctantly moves his piece back to the beginning of the board. Tammi quickly draws her card and shouts excitedly, "I win, I win. Let's play again!"
Elaine looks over at her daughter, who seems to be tiring. "Why don't we let your mom put her things away in the new bedroom while you help me set the table for supper?" Kimble takes the hint and wheels Sharon out of the dining room, as Tammi reluctantly puts away the game board.
SHARON'S ROOM - LATER THAT EVENING
Kimble is making Sharon comfortable in bed for the night.
"I can handle getting into the shower chair on my own, but I have trouble getting out sometimes," she admits nervously.
"I think you're doing very well," Kimble assures her, tucking in the sheet.
"You're good at this. Have you always been a nurse? I mean, an aide?" Sharon asks.
Kimble looks up at her, then away. "No...not always." Wishing to change the subject, he says, "So you're starting rehabilitation the day after Christmas?"
"Yes," she says without enthusiasm.
"You're not looking forward to it?"
"I am. It's just that...I'm afraid that once I get started, I'll find out it won't really help all that much." She adjusts the blankets around her legs.
Kimble looks at her with understanding. "You shouldn't put limits on yourself before you've even begun." He fluffs another pillow for her.
"You know, when I first met my wife, I knew right away I wanted to ask her out. Then I found out her family was really wealthy and I was afraid she wouldn't be interested in someone with nothing to his name but a mountain of school loans. So I put off calling her all week, figuring that if I asked her out for Friday on Thursday and she said no, I could pretend it was because of the short notice." Kimble sees that he has Sharon's interest. "I finally called her at ten o'clock Thursday night. When she answered the phone, I blurted out an invitation to dinner."
"Did she say yes?"
"Well, not exactly." He smiles ruefully at the memory. "I had just asked out the maid! After we were married, she told me she knew it was me calling as soon as she heard the phone ring, but the maid beat her to it. She never let me forget that she was my second choice!"
"So, things turned out better than you thought. Oh, I see…you're telling me something, aren't you?"
"Physical therapy can only do so much, Sharon. The most important thing is to keep a positive attitude." He lays out her bed jacket.
"I know. I've had to learn that as a single mother. But this is something I wasn't prepared to deal with."
"What about Tammi's father? Can't he help?"
"Tammi's never even met her father, " Sharon says flatly.
"Oh." Kimble arranges the tissue box and a glass of water on the bed stand so that they are within arm's reach.
"I met Paul at work. We went to a company picnic together. We both had a little too much to drink and…well, things happened that we didn't intend. When I told him I was preg-nant, he offered to pay for an abortion, but I just couldn't do that. His father was a VP in the company, and I guess it was pretty embarrassing for him when people started putting two
and two together." She takes a sip of water. "Anyway, Paul talked me into taking a voluntary lay-off and promised he'd pay all my medical bills. I'll give him credit—he did do that. But right after Tammi was born, he moved to Texas. We still get a monthly child support check from his lawyer, but that's about it."
"I'm sorry."
"Please don't think I'm too bitter. I just get angry sometimes for Tammi's sake. She deserves better."
They are interrupted by Tammi and her grandmother, who obviously has heard the end of their conversation.
"It's well past her bedtime, but I promised Tammi she could come down for a goodnight kiss," Elaine says.
Tammi climbs onto the bed and gives her mother a big hug and kiss. "Goodnight, Mommy. I missed you. Can you read me a bedtime story?"
"That will have to wait for tomorrow night," Elaine says, seeing the circles of fatigue under Sharon's eyes.
"How about if I read to you?" Kimble offers.
Hopping off the bed, Tammi drags him out of the room. "First I want 'One, Fish,Two Fish' and then 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas' and next….."
After they have gone, Sharon looks at her mother. "Steve's really nice, isn't he?" "Yes, he's a Godsend," she says thoughtfully.
TAMMI'S ROOM - MINUTES LATER
Kimble is reading the story of the Grinch to Tammi, who is tucked in bed and thoroughly enjoying the extra attention.
Mrs. Baldwin appears in the doorway and watches unobserved for a few moments. Kimble enacts the role of the Grinch with high theatrics and Tammi giggles appreciatively.
"I see there is a mutual admiration society going on in here," Elaine interjects when he concludes. "Time for bed and lights out, young lady," she tells Tammi firmly, rubbing noses with her granddaughter. Tammi snuggles under the covers. Elaine dims the lights, leaving only the nightlight on, and steps into the hall.
THE UPSTAIRS HALL
"Babysitting isn't part of your job description," Elaine says pleasantly as she and Kimble walk down the hall. "I don't want you to feel you have two patients to care for."
"I don't mind," Kimble remarks. "I like kids."
"I can tell. You seem to be good at it. Do you have children of your own, Steve?"
"No, that never happened."
Sensing his note of regret and unwilling to intrude further, Elaine says, "Well, Tammi's certainly happy to have you here. We all are." She stops at her bedroom door. "Sleep well, Steve."
"Thank you...I'm happy to be here," Kimble tells her, realizing it is true. "Good night." He continues on down the stairs.
SHARON'S ROOM - SATURDAY, DECEMBER 22 - MORNING
Sharon is sitting in her chair, brushing Tammi's hair. "Grandma is taking us to get the tree today," the little girl says, holding up a twist-tie for her pigtail. "I asked Mr. Thomas to come, but he said only if you are. Are you coming, Mommy?"
Sharon looks at her legs, then makes a decision. "I'll ride along in the car. You'll have to pick out the tree." "I knew you'd come!" Tammi rejoices. "And I know exactly what tree we're getting, too." "You do?" Sharon checks to see if Tammi's pigtails are straight and adjusts one of them. "Mmm hmm."
"But you haven't seen any of them yet, honey," Sharon says practically. "Don't you think you should wait until you get there to make up your mind?"
"Doesn't matter. I've seen it already in my 'magination. Am I done?"
"Yes. Take your comb and brush back upstairs and put on a warm coat and hat. And mittens!" she says as Tammi rushes out.
THE CHRISTMAS TREE LOT - THE SAME MORNING
The Chevy Caprice pulls into the parking area of a large Christmas tree lot. Tammi jumps out as soon as the car stops.
She dances about, clapping her hands.
"Can I go find our tree now?" She begs her grandmother.
"Well, all right. But don't go far," Elaine cautions.
"Are you going to be okay in the car?" Kimble asks Sharon.
"I'm fine. It's just nice to be outdoors again, soaking up the sunshine and the scent of pine."
"We won't be long, sweetheart," Elaine assures her. She takes Kimble's arm to steady herself on the frozen, straw-covered ground. They proceed up an aisle of blue spruce.
"I promised Tammi a live tree this year, but I didn't realize how expensive they've gotten," Mrs. Baldwin remarks, reading the tags.
In the shade of the trees Kimble begins to feel the cold again. He turns up the collar of his jacket.
"I feel selfish prying you away from your own home at this time of year," Elaine confesses.
"It's my job," Kimble says simply.
"Do you live far from Milwaukee?" she asks, wondering about Kimble's tan and his sensitivity to the cold.
Kimble is trying to think of an answer when Tammi is heard shouting. "Grandma, Grandma, I found our tree!" The little girl bursts upon them and takes her grandmother's hand, urging her to follow.
"I hope it's not too big a one," Elaine says, stepping carefully around a patch of ice on the ground.
Tammi leads them into an open space and to a single fir tree.
"Why, it's beautiful!" Mrs. Baldwin exclaims, looking for the price tag. "Tall and full. Are you sure you want this one?"
Tammi nods her head enthusiastically. "It's lonely," she says. "Not like the other trees."
"What do you mean, honey?" her grandmother asks.
"See?" Tammi points out the back of the tree. The midsection of the fir has been damaged in transporting—two large limbs are broken at the trunk and hang limply among the branches. Tammi hugs the tree affectionately. "It needs us." Kimble immediately sees the connection with Tammi's mother.
"Why so it does, honey," Mrs. Baldwin agrees. She finds the tag. "It's marked down, too. OK, we'll give it a good home."
THE CAR - MINUTES LATER
"Will it fit?" Sharon asks from the front seat.
"It will be safe sticking out if I tie the top down," Kimble says as he positions the tree in the trunk of the car. "This fir reminds me of the first Christmas tree I ever bought," he relates to Elaine. "My wife-to-be helped me decorate my apartment that year. I couldn't afford to spend much and she picked out a crooked tree. She said she felt sorry for it because probably no one would buy it."
He ties the top of the trunk down with a strand of thick twine. "We decorated it with popcorn strings. Actually, we got into a major popcorn battle, and a lot of the popcorn wound up on the floor." His eyes warm at the memory.
"It sounds like you had a lot of fun," Mrs. Baldwin comments.
"Yes, we did."
"Steve..." Elaine puts a hand over his. "Why don't you call your wife on Christmas Day? Let that be my present to you. It's the least we can do, after all you've given up to be with us."
Kimble avoids her gaze. "Thanks, but I lost my wife several years ago." He walks around the car and climbs into the back seat.
Tammi tugs at Elaine's sleeve. "Grandma, can we make popcorn strings for our tree?" "I don't see why not." She helps Tammi into the car.
ON THE HIGHWAY
Elaine turns in the driver's seat to glance at Kimble. "Do you have any other Christmas traditions we can keep, Steve?
You're one of the family now, and I want you to enjoy this Christmas as much as the rest of us."
Kimble hesitates for a moment.
"Yes, Steve, what do you like to do for Christmas? Sing carols?" Sharon inquires.
"Peanut brittle," Kimble answers.
"What?" Sharon asks, surprised.
"My dad loved peanut brittle. He convinced us that Santa Claus liked it better than cookies, so every Christmas Eve we made peanut brittle and homemade eggnog for a snack after midnight mass, before we went to bed."
"Well!" Elaine laughs. " We'll make peanut brittle AND cookies then, just in case." "Goody!" Tammi crows. "This is going to be the best Christmas ever!"
THE BALDWIN KITCHEN - AFTER LUNCH
The women are in the kitchen—Elaine washing dishes and Sharon wiping plates. Tammi dries the silverware, placing each piece carefully on the table when she is finished.
"Steve is so helpful. I wish I could think of something to give him for Christmas," Sharon comments.
"He needs a scarf!" Tammi announces importantly. "He looks like his neck is cold."
"I've noticed that, too," Elaine says. "He should have something warmer than that jacket."
"If you still have those spare skeins of yarn in the cupboard, Mom, I could knit him a scarf in no time." Elaine nods in assent.
"Can I help?" Tammi asks eagerly.
"You can help me make the fringe."
"Oh boy—I'm good at making fringes!"
"Tammi, you've never made a fringe before," Sharon reminds her.
"But, I know I'd be good at it!" Tammi insists.
Kimble enters the kitchen and sees six pairs of eyes train on him, determined not to give away a secret. "Is there anything I can do?" he asks, slightly puzzled.
"Yes, Steve," Elaine says quickly. "Could you come down to the cellar with me and look for the boxes of lights and ornaments? I thought we'd decorate the tree this afternoon."
"Sure," Kimble assents, following her into the hall.
Sharon and Tammi whisper conspiratorially.
THE CELLAR
Elaine and Kimble descend the steep stairs into the basement.
"Every year I put the Christmas boxes away so I won't have any trouble finding them the next year, and every year at least one box ends up missing. Last year it was the bubble lights," Elaine explains.
"Is this them?" Kimble asks lifting down a long box marked 'b. lights'.
Elaine claps a hand to her mouth. "I don't believe it. They were there the whole time. Thank you! I must need stronger glasses." She looks closely at Kimble. "I notice you wear contacts, Steve. Are they corrective?"
"I have an astigmatism," Kimble lies evenly. He pulls down another box marked 'house lights'.
"Those are for the outside of the house," she says. "We rarely use them because it requires a ladder to get to the roof."
"I'd be happy to do put them up," Kimble offers.
Elaine is torn between imposing on him and wanting to please Sharon.
Kimble smiles. "It would be a pleasure, really."
"These are the rest of the ornaments." While Elaine sorts through the other boxes, Kimble moves over to the corner, where the scattered parts of a new bicycle are partially covered by a blanket.
"Tammi wanted that bike for Christmas," Mrs. Baldwin confides. "I thought I could put it together for her, but it wasn't as easy as it looked."
"It never is," Kimble agrees. "May I give it a try?"
"That would be wonderful!" She checks herself. "When you have the time, of course."
"You mean you've never heard of 'wait-until-the-last-minute-and-stay-up-all-night'?" He grins.
"Another of your dad's Christmas traditions?"
"You could say that."
THE KITCHEN - THAT AFTERNOON
Kimble, Sharon, and Tammi are sitting around the kitchen table in front of a giant bowl of popcorn. Sharon is helping Tammi tie off the end of a popcorn string. Kimble, having completed several strings of his own, playfully throws a kernel of popcorn their way. He instantly pretends innocence, threading popcorn with great absorption. Tammi looks up at her mother, questioningly.
Sharon, amused, says nothing but selects a large kernel from the bowl. As Tammi threads it, another kernel lands in her lap. Her mouth opens and she looks again at her mother. Sharon nods and the popcorn war begins. Soon they are all three tossing handfuls of popcorn across the table. Their shrieks and giggles rouse Elaine, who has been reading the paper in the living room.
"What the..." she gasps, entering the kitchen and looking around in astonishment. She is met with fits of laughter. "Well, I certainly hope this doesn't become a Christmas tradition! You three get out of here and go trim the tree. I'll clean up this mess," she says with mock disapproval.
MONTAGE OF CHRISTMAS PREPARATIONS
THE LIVING ROOM - THAT EVENING:
Kimble weaves strands of lights around the tree. Sharon applies hooks to the glass balls so they can be hung. Tammi walks around the lower limbs looking for the best place to hang each ornament. Sharon unwraps the gold star for the top and Kimble lifts Tammi onto his shoulders so she can help position it.
After dinner, they turn on the tree lights and admire their handiwork. Elaine, watching her family, becomes aware that her hopes for a happy Christmas for Sharon are being realized. Tammi suddenly runs to the window, noticing that it has begun to snow.
SHARON'S ROOM - SUN. DEC. 23 - AFTER LUNCH:
Sharon is busily knitting by the window. She keeps an eye on Tammi and Kimble as they build a snowman in the backyard with the newly fallen snow. Tammi shouts to her mother and points to the funny troll face they've given it.
OUTSIDE THE FRONT OF THE HOUSE - DUSK
Kimble climbs down the ladder after having hung the house lights. He motions for Elaine to turn them on. All at once the house is transformed. Kimble brings Sharon out and they all stare up at the starry rows of light sparkling against the deepening blue of night.
THE KITCHEN - DEC. 24 - MORNING:
It is snowing heavily outside. Kimble is standing at the stove, dropping a spoonful of hot syrup into cold water. "This is the secret ingredient to perfect peanut brittle— knowing exactly when it's done."
Sharon looks skeptical. "Isn't that what they have candy thermometers for?"
Kimble just winks at Tammi and brings the bubbling pot over to the kitchen table and sets it on a hot plate. "Here, test it yourself." Sharon raises an eyebrow, then mimics Kimble and drops a spoonful into the cold water. She stares intently as the syrup forms into a hard ball. "Perfect!" Kimble says, and swiftly begins to pour the hot syrup over the peanuts spread on the pan. "When this cools, you can help break it into pieces, Tammi."
THAT AFTERNOON:
Elaine mixes up the annual batch of Christmas cookies. Sharon sits at the table and rolls the dough. Tammi shows Kimble her favorite cookie cutter shapes. Elaine whips the frosting, letting Tammi lick the spoon afterwards. Each of them creatively decorates the cookies—eating a few mistakes in the process.
THE CHURCH - MIDNIGHT, CHRISTMAS EVE
The lights in the traditional-style church are low, creating an atmosphere of intimacy. As they enter, each person is given a lighted candle. Sharon holds Kimble's while he pushes her up the side aisle, followed by Elaine with Tammi. They choose a pew beside a column, where there is space for Sharon's wheelchair.
The processional begins, to a swell of organ music. The congregation stands, singing "Oh Come All Ye Faithful." Around them the warm glow of candles is reflected in the faces of the worshipers. Tammi holds hers reverently.
ANOTHER MIDNIGHT MASS - YEARS AGO
The carols and familiar words of the mass are echoed by a Christ-mas Eve service from Kimble's past. Maggie and Richard, as children, stand side by side, sharing a hymnal and singing joyfully— secure in the spontaneous faith of their childhood.
RETURN TO THE PRESENT - AFTER THE SERVICE
"Take me to see the crèche," Tammi begs her grandmother, when the congregants begin to file out. Elaine, complying, walks Tammi up to the front of the church.
"Do you mind if I..." Kimble looks across to the tiers of votive candles nearby. "I have someone to remember," he tells Sharon.
"Please, go ahead. I'm fine here," she answers.
Kimble takes a taper and lights two votives, his lips silently praying. A statue of Mary gazes down upon him, sadly smiling.
THE BALDWIN LIVING ROOM - 30 MIN. LATER
A fire is lit in the hearth, and Kimble is surprised to see four stockings hung from the mantle. He looks questioningly at Elaine as she comes in with a tray of eggnog and peanut brittle.
Sharon enters with Tammi, who carries a plate of Christmas cookies and is trying not to tip it. The plate teeters. "Oops!" she cries in dis-may as one slides off.
"That's all right, dear," Elaine says, picking up the cookie. "I just vacu-umed, and I'm sure Santa won't mind. He knows how hard you worked to make them."
"He does?" Tammi asks uncertainly.
"He knows everything," Kimble teases. "And cookies made by little girls are his favorite...next to peanut brittle." She grins.
"A toast," Elaine calls gaily, lifting her eggnog. They raise their glasses. "To loved ones home and absent... To the spirit of Christmas... May it reign all the year!"
"Amen," Sharon and Kimble concur, sipping their drinks.
"Amen!" Tammi pipes in, making everyone laugh.
THE CELLAR - 2:00 A.M.
Kimble is alone in the starkly lit cellar, completing the assembly of Tammi's bike. He tightens a nut on the frame, then moves the handle bars back and forth. Satisfied, he tests the pressure in the tires. After a moment he pulls out a rag and wipes off the grease marks, buffing the red finish to a high sheen.
Done, he rocks back on his heels and smiles with childish pleasure.
THE LIVING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER
Kimble quietly positions the bike under the tree. Sensing something is missing, his gaze sweeps the room and stops at a potted poinsettia with a bright green bow. He removes the bow and ties it to the bike. In a motion of regret for what never was, Kimble pats the seat, then rises and leaves the room, turning off the lights.
THE KITCHEN
As he passes the kitchen on his way to turn in for the night, Kimble slows. His eye is caught by the phone on the wall.
"Why don't you call on Christmas Day? Let that be my present to you. It's the least we can do, after all you've given up to be with us."
Elaine's words play over in Kimble's mind. He glances at the clock on the kitchen wall, thinking of Maggie. It is past two in the morning. The seconds tick by. He agonizes. Then, willing to risk it this one time, he picks up the receiver and dials.
CHICAGO - GERARD'S OFFICE
Captain Gerard has his feet on the desk and a cup of coffee in his hand. The computer screen flashes the alert for an incoming call to Maggie's line. Instantly Gerard's feet come down and he swivels in his chair, grabbing the headset to listen in.
MILWAUKEE - THE BALDWIN KITCHEN
Kimble waits tensely as the phone rings on the other end.
CHICAGO - GERARD'S OFFICE
"I know you're there, Kimble," Gerard breathes, cupping the headset to his ears.
MILWAUKEE - THE BALDWIN KITCHEN
Kimble glances once more at the clock, his chest rising and falling as his heartbeat accelerates. At last there is a click, and Maggie, tired but anxious, answers. "Hello?"
Kimble is about to respond, when he hears a noise behind him. His nerves already on edge, he abruptly hangs up the receiver.
CHICAGO - GERARD'S OFFICE
"Damn!" Gerard cries, throwing off the headset.
MILWAUKEE - THE BALDWIN KITCHEN
Kimble whips around fearfully, but sees only Tammi in her bunny pajamas standing in the doorway. "I heard a noise and thought it was Santa Claus," she whispers.
Letting out a sigh of relief, Kimble bends down to reassure her. "No, he can't come until you're fast asleep." He holds out a slightly trembling hand. "Come on, let's get you back to bed."
CHICAGO - GERARD'S OFFICE
"Give me that number!" Gerard demands of the screen. As if in response, the monitor goes blank, and for an instant he sees reflected there the face of 'Jacob Marley'—in the person of the Old Man from the hospital in Wilmington. The blood drains from the Captain's face. In the next instant the screen is restored...with no data remaining for a trace.
MILWAUKEE - TAMMI'S BEDROOM
Kimble is tucking Tammi back into bed. "Go right to sleep, so Santa can come," he says softly.
"OK." She reaches up for a hug. He gives her a good squeeze, then pulls the door closed behind him.
CHRISTMAS DAY MONTAGE
THE PANTRY - EARLY CHRISTMAS MORNING:
table with mugs of hot chocolate, opening their , asleep, opens his eyes to see Tammi, still in her pajamas, on the tips of her toes with delight. "Santa brought me a bike!" she squeals. "It's under the tree—come and see!"
Kimble groans and produces a half-smile.
THE KITCHEN - BREAKFAST:
As Elaine makes waffles, the others sit around the kitchen
Kimble is surprised to find an angel snow globe in the toe of his.
Tammi motions for him to bend closer. "I picked it out," she says in his ear, positive it is just what he wanted.
"It's just what I wanted," Kimble agrees.
THE LIVING ROOM - AFTER BREAKFAST:
While the others open their gifts around the tree, Kimble is surprised to find several tagged for him. He unwraps a soft gray scarf from Sharon and Tammi.
"To go with your eyes," Sharon says.
"I helped make the fringe!" claims Tammi proudly.
"The fringe is the best part," he acknowledges.
A larger package turns out to be a matching ski sweater and cap from Elaine.
"That will keep you warm as toast," she promises. Kimble tries them on and Sharon applauds.
"It suits you!" she shouts over the merry ringing of the bicycle bell as Tammi pedals around the house.
CHRISTMAS DINNER:
Sharon creates a centerpiece for the table while Elaine checks on the turkey roasting in the oven. Tammi helps set the table, and Kimble mashes the potatoes. At last they are ready to sit down and eat. Hands are linked around the table.
"Would you care to say grace?" Elaine invites Kimble.
"I would just like to offer thanks for good people everywhere...who, without thought of reward, open their hearts to those in need." He searches for something else to say. "And God bless this food," he finishes.
While Sharon fixes a plate for Tammi, Elaine gives Kimble a considering look.
THE KITCHEN - DEC. 26 - 7:45 A.M.
It is quiet in the house. Elaine appears to be the only one up. She is reading the morning paper as the toast cooks. Turning to an inside page, shock registers on her face as she sees a black and white photo of Steve Thomas—a.k.a Dr. Richard Kimble—under the headline:
CONVICTED MURDERER STILL AT LARGE!
The toast pops up and she jumps in her seat, a hand flying to her heart. Unbelieving, Elaine reads the article twice, staring at the photo while trying to reconcile the story with the man she has known for the last four days.
"Elaine, I wonder if you could drop me off at the hospital after we take Sharon to the rehabilitation center today," Kimble says, coming in from the hall. He stops in his tracks, as over Elaine's shoulder he spots the newspaper headline.
Neither one speaks. Elaine cannot bring herself to face Kimble, yet from his shocked silence she surmises the truth.
She folds the paper deliberately and rises to take the toast from the toaster.
"We'll go as soon as Sharon has packed her things," Mrs. Baldwin says lightly.
Kimble stares at her.
"After such a big meal yesterday, I thought maybe just toast and cereal would be in order this morning."
"Mrs. Baldwin..." Kimble begins.
"I'll wake up Tammi," Elaine continues. "She's bound to be a sleepyhead after all that excitement." She walks out of the kitchen without a backward glance.
CHICAGO - THE TASK FORCE CONFERENCE ROOM - 8:00 A.M.
Eddie is seated at the conference table when Victor Gutierrez walks in.
"So, I hear Kimble was a no-show yesterday," Gutierrez comments. "Or should I say a no-call." He hands Eddie a ten dollar bill.
Eddie pockets the money. "Yeah, but the Captain turned out not to be such a Scrooge after all. He left us a basket of wine, cheese and crackers—for after hours, of course," he winks. "I stayed late and helped Eve finish it off."
"You think Gerard could be showing a change of heart?" Art asks, entering the conference room.
Eve suddenly brushes past him in a rush. She grabs some files.
"What's your hurry? Going somewhere?" Eddie kids her.
"The phone trace may have been a bust, but the press release finally brought results. The HR receptionist at a hospital in Milwaukee reported seeing Kimble last week. She remembers him because he was trying to get information about one of their employees. She thought it was suspicious. I'm driving up there now to check it out."
"The employee doesn't have one arm, does he?" jokes Eddie.
"That's one of the things I intend to find out."
"A week ago? Kimble could be anywhere by now," Gutierrez observes pessimistically. "And even if he's still in Milwau-kee, you'll never get a full scale search authorized. With all the 'high alerts' we've had out for terrorist activities, the budget of every major city in the country is shot."
"I can be there within a couple hours. I think it's worth checking on. Especially since yesterday was a wash-out and the last confirmed Kimble sighting was in September."
"You are planning on telling the Captain...aren't you?" Eddie asks.
"Yup. When I get back," Eve replies, sailing out.
DRIVEWAY OF THE BALDWIN HOME - 9:00 A.M.
Kimble opens the passenger door of the Caprice while Elaine goes around to the driver's seat. Sharon has done her hair and make-up especially for the occasion, but is clearly anxious about facing rehab. She awkwardly puts an arm around Kimble as he lifts her from the chair.
"Don't worry, Mommy," Tammi says. "You look pretty. Everyone will like you."
Sharon gives her daughter a lopsided smile. "It's a little more difficult than that, honey."
"Tammi's right. You'll do fine," Kimble says, hiding his personal tension as he folds her chair.
THE REHABILITATION CENTER - SHARON'S ROOM - 9:30 A.M.
Sharon steels herself as she wheels into her new room. The others follow her in.
"This is...very convenient, isn't it, dear," Elaine says brightly, taking in the efficiency of the room. She sets Sharon's things down.
"You have a view from your window, Mommy!" Tammi exclaims running over to it.
"Yes, it is nice," Sharon admits. She gives Kimble a brave smile and he nods supportively. Taking a deep breath Sharon states, "Well, this is my new home for awhile."
"Sharon, I'll be back after I drop Mr. Thomas at the hospital," Elaine says. "Tammi, you mind your mother while we're gone."
Absorbed with the snowy landscape outside, Tammi responds without turning. "I will."
Kimble tears a sheet off the notepad by the phone and writes down a name and number. He hands it to Sharon. "Here's the name of a friend of mine. He specializes in spinal chord injuries." To Elaine, he continues, "If you have any problems getting an appointment, just mention my name."
Her eyes widen, locking on Kimble's. A look of understanding passes between them.
CHICAGO - TASK FORCE CONFERENCE ROOM - 9:45 A.M.
Gerard enters and glances around at the seemingly industrious activity of the Task Force members.
"Anyone here seen Eve this morning?" he asks.
"Nope," Eddie mumbles. Victor and Art shake their heads without looking up.
Gerard studies the group suspiciously, raises his eyebrows, and returns to his office.
The Task Force seem to exhale simultaneously.
MILWAUKEE - ENTRANCE OF ST. VINCENT'S HOSPITAL - 10.00 A.M.
The Caprice drives under the portico at the hospital's entrance. Kimble gets out with his duffle bag.
Elaine reaches over and puts a hand on his arm to detain him. Kimble's expression chills.
"I have something for you." She reaches into her purse and hands him an envelope.
He takes it hesitantly, looking first inside and then at Mrs. Baldwin.
"It's your wages. And there's a prepaid calling card in there, too. I thought you might have someone back home you'd like to call."
Kimble's face visibly relaxes. "Elaine...thank you...for everything. I hope I haven't..." He struggles with the thought that he has brought her pain.
"Your coming was a blessing. You know, everyone of us has a twin somewhere," she says obliquely.
He gives her a slight nod. A car pulls up behind them. With a brief wave, and a look of concern for his welfare, Elaine drives on. Kimble turns and goes into the hospital entrance.
After a long moment, a rental car zips into the parking area and Eve Hilliard emerges.
THE HUMAN RESOURCES OFFICE - 10:15 A.M.
Hilliard is showing the heavy-set receptionist several Kimble mug shots.
"You're certain this is the man you saw last week?" she asks.
"Definitely. I thought it was funny at the time, because he said one of our employees was a friend of his, but then didn't seem to know his name. We don't give out such information," she adds primly.
"Have you seen Kimble in the hospital since then?" "No, it was just that one time."
"Can you tell me which employee he was looking for?" Hilliard pur-sues.
"Certainly, it was one of our custodians, Bill Walsh." "I'd like to speak with Mr. Walsh. Is he working today?"
"I don't know, I'll call and find out," the receptionist says obligingly. "I believe he works in Wing 4."
WING 4 - 10:25 A.M.
Kimble moves nervously down the hall. With his picture in the morning paper, he is especially cautious, averting his face as hospital personnel pass.
Suddenly, alarmed, Kimble recognizes Agent Hilliard walking down the hallway toward him. Acting as though he has forgotten something, Kimble turns around and slips into a side hallway. He watches as Eve strides purposefully past. Afraid that Gerard may be close behind, Kimble continues down the side hall. He spots an employee locker room and ducks in.
Kimble waits for a moment, heart beating wildly, and then his eye falls on a pair of discarded scrubs lying across a chair. Glancing over his shoulder for fear that someone will come in, Kimble puts them on.
THE THIRD FLOOR NURSE'S STATION
Hilliard goes up to the nurse's station. "I'm looking for a janitor who works on this wing," she says officiously. "Could you page him?"
"Yes ma'am. What's the name?" the nurse replies.
"Bill Walsh," Hilliard answers.
THE LOCKER ROOM
"Bill Walsh, report to third floor nurse's station." The words come over the intercom as Kimble finishes dressing.
He looks up, astounded. Kimble's eyes reflect the dilemma he is in. He should flee. But, he has come all this way to find Smith282—and this may be his only chance. Making up his mind, Kimble hastens back up the side hall and toward the third floor nurse's station.
THE THIRD FLOOR NURSE'S STATION
Hilliard is waiting with her back to him as Kimble approaches. Trying to keep his distance, Kimble slows his pace.
Thinking it may be the janitor, Eve turns. Kimble quickly grabs a patient chart from the wall outside a nearby room and pretends to read it intently.
Eve is distracted by the arrival of a man with a mop and bucket from the other direction. Kimble turns to see that it is Smith282. Hilliard straightens and approaches the man. Kimble's face is all watchfulness.
"Mr. Walsh?" She reaches for her badge. "FBI. I'd like to…"
Before Eve can finish, Smith grabs the mop with both hands and swings as hard as he can at her knees. Hilliard falls to the floor. Smith rushes desperately past her, knocking over the water bucket. He runs headlong into Kimble. The two men lock arms in a brief struggle of recognition. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Kimble sees Eve painfully getting to her feet. He releases Smith282 and turns abruptly to face the wall, head down, as though puzzling over the chart in his hand. Eve, slipping on the wet floor, gives chase to the custodian. She passes Kimble without a sideways glance.
Smith282 disappears around a bend in the hall. Stopping briefly, Eve pulls out her cell phone and places a call to hospital security. Then, limping slightly, she continues after Smith.
Kimble watches her go with a sigh of mixed relief and disappointment.
EPILOGUE
CHICAGO - TASK FORCE OFFICES - 2:30 P.M.
Eddie looks up from his desk to see Eve, still limping, step out of the elevator. He
whistles. "What happened to you? A
tangle with the One-Armed Man?"
"NO!" she says crossly.
"So what then?" he asks, less flippantly.
Hilliard sits tiredly down at her desk. "Kimble was there all right. I got a positive ID from the receptionist."
Gutierrez comes over to hear her story.
"I tried to interview the janitor, but he freaked as soon as I said 'FBI'," she relates. Security and I tried to prevent him from leaving the building, but it's a big hospital. We lost him."
"Lost who? The One-Armed Man?" asks Art, joining them.
"Not you, too! No, he most definitely swung the mop with BOTH hands! But the trip wasn't a total loss. He left behind everything in his locker. I brought it back to check for prints."
"What for?" asks Eddie. "What difference does it make—if he had both arms?"
"Kimble was hunting for him," Eve replies. "That's reason enough. Besides, I want to know who he is."
"Maybe he was the man who emailed Becca Ross," suggests Art, only half seriously.
"Who?" Eve asks sharply.
"Oh, that's right," Art replies. "You were off on another assignment that day. Gerard tapped into Becca's email and obtained a transcript from her chat session with someone named Smith-something. He claimed he knew all about the night Helen Kimble was murdered, that he was there and saw everything. Then Kimble himself called and sent us on a merry chase to Baltimore, but there was nothing there to find."
"What! Why didn't the rest of us hear about this?" Eve demands indignantly.
Art shrugs his shoulders. "The Captain figured it was a scam. He and the psychologist pretty much agreed Kimble might be getting a little schizophrenic—maybe even WAS this Smith guy. So we let it drop."
"So, we have a possible witness to Helen Kimble's murder and Gerard lets it drop," she says, disgusted. "I have a picture of this guy from his ID card. Maybe it's time I paid a visit to Becca Ross myself."
"The Captain already tried that. She's not saying anything."
"Yeah, well, she hasn't talked to me yet!" Eve gets up, just as Gerard walks in.
"Ms. Hilliard," he addresses her. "Would you care to step into my office?"
DAVENPORT, IOWA - A BURGER PLACE - NEW YEAR'S DAY 2002
Kimble, with his new ski sweater on under his jacket and Sharon's skarf wrapped around his throat, pays for a burger and fries. Pocketing the change, he takes the bag and walks outside.
Passing a telephone in the parking lot, Kimble stops on impulse. Retracing his steps, he goes up to it, pulling a calling card from his pocket.
CHICAGO - THE HUME LIVING ROOM
The children are having lunch in the kitchen. Maggie enters the living room as the phone rings. Hardly daring to hope, she picks it up. "Hello?"
"Happy New Year, Sis."
"Richard!" The camera captures the joy in Maggie's eyes as she hears her brother's voice. Behind her, the angel Stuart hung for Kimble spins and twinkles on the tree.
THE END