DoubleDown V by John R. Little and Mark Allan Gunnells Page A

was enough to convince the nurse to tell her, “They’ve moved her to a long-term care facility.”
    “Where?”
    The nurse looked around.  She knew the life Karen shared with Bonnie, but rules were rules.  She hesitated and then whispered, “This never happened.”  She scribbled the name of Bonnie’s new home onto a Post-It note and handed it to Karen.  The nurse turned her back and walked away.
    Bonnie’s quarters were nice but more crowded than in the hospital.  Six patients were crammed into one small room.  Karen knew that Bonnie didn’t care, but she cared.  She wanted Bonnie to have the best.  Unfortunately there wasn’t much she could do to help.
    She held Bonnie’s hand, kissed her cheek, and pulled out the book to continue reading while a machine forced air into Bonnie’s lungs.
     
    *   *   *
     
    That night, Karen woke up at a little after 2:00 a.m. with a sense of purpose and inspiration.  She went to her computer and pulled up the website for the Los Angeles Times and searched for unexplained deaths caused by slit throats—Bobby’s normal method. She had no reason to think he’d do something different.
    There were three stories in the past few months, all about mysterious injuries to throats that seemed to be caused by box cutters or something similar.  None of the victims had been connected to the others.  She mapped out where they occurred and found them centralized near Union Street and Casper Avenue, nowhere near where he’d led her to believe he lived.
    Time stopped a week later, and she spent a few subjective hours searching the area.  Finally she found him.  He was using the computer in a small back apartment.  The room was a mess, with plates of rotting food scattered around.  Posters of recent science-fiction movies were stuck on a couple of walls, and a large flat-screen TV dominated the room.
    Bobby was hunched over his keyboard, typing something into Google, but he’d only gotten as far as “How do—?” before she’d arrived.
    He looked the same as the last time she saw him.   Tall, handsome, trustworthy.
    She wanted to kill him right then, but that wouldn’t be enough.  She left, went home, and thought about her options.
    When time started again, she knew what she had to do.
     
    *   *   *
     
    The next day Karen called in sick.  She went to a park nearby and sat on a bench, watching the birds as they chirped and pecked at food tossed to them by other visitors.  She enjoyed the feel of the sunshine on her face and smiled as little children played hopscotch and tag.
    She walked through her neighborhood and said hi to some of the people she knew.  It occurred to her that she hadn’t had a vanilla milkshake in years, and she ducked in to the Dairy Queen to order one.  Karen tried not to think about anything except what was in front of her eyes at any particular minute.
    The day went by. She tried her best to enjoy it.  As the sun fell, she walked to Bobby’s house.  By the time she got there, the sun was gone and only hints of scattered light paved the way.
    She knocked and waited.  After a minute, Bobby opened the door, staring at her like she was a ghost.
    “Hi,” she said.  “Aren’t you going to invite me in, Bobby Jersey?  Or should I say Bobby Jameson?”
    He stepped back.  Karen walked into his house without giving him a chance to change his mind.
    “You found me.” 
    She looked around the room like it was the first time she’d been there.
    “Robert Peter Jameson.  Born in Newark, New Jersey, liberating the name of your home state as part of your new persona.”  She looked around at the computer.  “In reality, of course, you’re just a pathetic loser, a murderer, and a freak.”
    Bobby had recovered enough to say, “Good to see you, too.  You can leave now.”
    Karen looked at him and shook her head.  She wanted to cry, but she forced herself to concentrate on the business at hand.
    “You killed the wrong