Nightmares

Mark felt the cold steel of the handcuffs as the red-haired police officer snapped them around his wrists. "Mark McCormick, you are under arrest for the murder of Judge Milton C. Hardcastle. You have the right..." Mark tuned out the rest of the words as he walked slowly to the waiting police car. His world, the world that Judge Milton Hardcastle had made for him, was slipping away. He could see Sarah, the grey-haired woman who ran the estate for the judge, standing on the step, her kind blue eyes now hard in anger.

"How could you, Mark? How could you? He trusted you. And you betrayed him. How?" The angry words followed the young man into the car and echoed around and around his head as the door closed and the car took off, taking Mark away from the only life he had ever learned to enjoy.

Lt. Michael Delaney watched as Mark was loaded into the car and driven off. He had arrived just as the patrol officer had knocked at the gatehouse door and identified himself to Mark. Mark hadn't said a word, in fact, he looked dazed and confused, as though he had just woken up from a deep sleep. The burly black detective had listened as the patrolman tried to get Mark to respond. When that didn't work, the patrolman had simply pulled out his cuffs and had read Mark his rights.

Mike made his way to Sarah who was still standing on the steps of the main house, clutching her shawl tighter around her shoulders. She caught sight of the officer and made a desperate plea. "Please tell me that he isn't dead? He can't be dead. That officer said that the judge was dead and that Mark was responsible. How? Judge Hardcastle loves that boy. And I thought that Mark felt the same way." Shaking her head sadly, Sarah sobbed into her shawl.

"What did they say happened?" Mike asked, taking out his notebook and pen.

"Yesterday evening, the judge and Mark left for that new restaurant up the coast. They were in the Coyote. I was in bed but I heard the Coyote come back. I didn't hear the judge come in, but I figured he and Mark were out talking by the pool. I went to sleep. This morning, the judge didn't come down for breakfast and his bed wasn't slept in. I went to see Mark, but he wouldn't answer the door. That's when I called the police." Sarah cocked her gray head to one side. "You know, they did get here rather quickly."

Mike touched Sarah's arm. "I heard the call for this address too. I'll find out what happened. You just stay here and see if you can find anything in Milt's study that would tell us what they were working on."

"Yes, sir. Although, I don't believe they had started anything else. Mark did get an invitation to a party for one of his old racing buddies for Saturday and I know the two of them were going to that."

"Okay, Sarah. I've got to get going now. I'll call you as soon as I find out anything." Mike jogged to his sedan and took off, driving faster than he normally would to the precinct where Mark was being processed.

Inside the station, Mike found the interrogation room that Mark had been taken to. From inside the adjoining room, the older man could see Mark sitting quietly in the chair with his hands folded on the table. Something in the younger man's manner set off alarm bells in Mike's mind. He turned to face the older, dignified looking gentleman standing by the door.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Cedric Sullivan, I work for the new assistant DA." He straightened his tie and stared down his nose at the homicide detective.

"What is he being charged with?"

"Murder one."

"Based on what?" Mike asked. "I haven't heard anything about Milt's death. He and Mark are both good friends of mine."

"So I understand. That is one reason why you weren't brought in on this."

Mike wanted to slug the smug look off the man's pointed face. He controlled himself and asked another question. "When did you hear about Milt's murder?"

"A tip was called into the office early this morning. Naturally, I followed up on it. Being a retired judge does tend to move you up on the list of cases to be investigated."

Mike tried again. "Where did you find Milt's body?"

"We haven't yet." The man's demeanor began to change slightly.

Mike's voice became low and ominous. "What do you mean you don't have a body? Then, how in the HELL are you charging Mark with murder??" Mike stepped up close to the older man, forcing him up against the wall. "You may be the right hand man to the new assistant district attorney, but that man in there is my friend. I don't want anyone talking to him right now. I will call an attorney for him, I will be there when you question him. Right now, I want to talk to him, then I want to hear all about your so-called evidence."

Cedric Sullivan sputtered and fumed. "You can't do that. You do not have the authority..."

Mike nailed him with a glare. "I have all the authority I need. Now you go tell your boss that Mark McCormick isn't saying a word until he has an attorney present and..SHIT!" At Mike's shout, Sullivan turned to see Mark McCormick slip out of his chair and land in a heap on the cold tile floor.

Mike jerked open the door to the room and ran over to the fallen man. He knelt down by Mark and felt for a pulse. He found one and breathed a sigh of relief. "Call an ambulance!" he shouted through the open door.

"I will not waste the county's resources to coddle a criminal who is obviously faking an illness." Cedric Sullivan sneered. He prodded at Mark's prone body with his foot, "Get up and quit wasting my time."

Mike jumped up and grabbed the slender man by the arm and threw him towards the door. "I said call an ambulance now!" His round face was seething with anger.

Sullivan just looked at the overweight detective in front of him and decided that maybe he should call an ambulance just in case the prisoner wasn't faking. He left the room quickly and shouted down the hall for a medical team to be contacted.

An hour later, the doctor entered the waiting room where Mike was waiting. The detective had filled out the paperwork as well as he could and was now waiting on news of Mark's condition. The paramedics at the station had found a wound on the side of Mark's head but would not comment on how it might have occurred. Mike had also contacted Sarah and told her that Mark was in the hospital. She was waiting at the house for Mike's next call. She was of two minds about Mark. She was worried about him, but at the same time, she wasn't sure if she could trust him or not. There still had been no news about Judge Hardcastle and she was more concerned about that.

Mike looked up and saw the doctor standing in the doorway. "Are you the officer with Mark McCormick?" the older man asked.

"Yes, I'm Detective Mike Delaney. How is Mark?"

"I'm Dr. Evan Saunders. Mr. McCormick should be fine in a day or so. Do you know how he was wounded?"

"I was hoping you could tell me," Mike replied.

The white haired doctor sat down beside Mike and turned to him, holding Mark's chart in front of him. "Mr. McCormick has a six inch laceration just above his right ear. Now I don't want to say the boy was in trouble, but it appears that he was shot from behind and the assailant missed. He took eight stitches to close up the wound. He is sleeping now and will for the next several hours. McCormick has a moderate concussion so the nurses will be doing neurological checks once an hour for the next eight hours. If all goes well, he will be ready to go home day after tomorrow." Dr. Saunders consulted his clipboard again.

"He was mumbling about someone, looking for them. Sounded like Milt or Judge?"

Mike dropped his gaze and looked at his strong brown hands. "His best friend, Judge Milton Hardcastle. Right now he is missing and the only link we have is Mark. I was hoping he could tell us where Milt is."

The doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know how much help he will be. He was having a hard time waking up enough to tell us his name, much less anything else. I don't want anyone trying to question him about anything for at least 12 hours and maybe longer. We will just have to see how he does."

Mike stood up and held out his hand to the other man. "Thank you. Just one more question. You said Mark was shot from behind?"

"Yes, the wound was made by a bullet from behind. I have treated enough police officers and other shooting victims to know what to look for." Dr. Saunders shook his head slowly. "I really wish I wasn't sure. I'll come and talk to you after we have him moved to a room." He gave the detective the room number then left.

Mike's head drooped down as he sat back down. He reached for the phone that was sitting on the small table in the corner. Dialing a number, he checked his watch for the time. "Yea, Frank? It's me, I'm still at the hospital. I need a 24 hour guard put on Mark. It looks like someone tried to kill him. I don't want anyone near him but the medical personnel and us. No, I haven't heard anything yet. Call me here if you do find out anything. I'll be back as soon as a patrolman gets here. See ya."

Mike walked down the hall to Mark's room. The injured man was in a private room on the third floor. Mike stood by the bedside and gripped the raised bed rail. Mark was sleeping quietly now, but Mike could see where the medics had cleaned and sewn up the gash on his head.. He was pale but otherwise looked unharmed. "What happened, Mark?" Mike asked quietly.

Twenty minutes later, a uniformed officer knocked on the door and stepped inside. Mike knew the young man and silently blessed Frank for sending a good man.

"Good afternoon, Detective," he greeted the older man.

"Hi Dave. Did Frank give you any background here?"

Dave Gibbs shook his head. "A bit. He said someone tried to kill Mark here and the judge is missing. There's talk in the station that Mark was arrested for killing Judge Hardcastle, but that's absurd. Mark loves that old man." The 30 something year old redhead wasn't known for his tact, but he was the perfect man to keep a secret.

"That's all we know right now. I don't want anyone but the medical staff or me and Frank in here. I especially don't want anyone from the DA's office to get in here without me." Mike's face was hard set.

"I've heard some stories already about that new guy, Sullivan. I haven't heard of anyone who likes him yet." Dave stroked his chin thoughtfully. "How is he involved in this?"

"He had Mark here arrested for Judge Hardcastle's murder on the strength of a telephone call, no follow-up."

Dave closed his eyes and pretended to shudder. "And he thinks that Mark killed the judge? Has he not heard anything about these two?"

"Nope." Mike let the subject drop. "Call me if anyone tries to get in here. Someone tried to kill Mark and I don't intend for them to have a second chance. He is in protective custody as of an hour ago."

"Don't worry, Lt. I know most of the staff here and I'm just mean enough to keep out the riff-raff." Dave held out his hand to shake Mike's and then settled himself in a chair outside of Mark's door. He kept the door open slightly so he could see Mark on the bed and hear him when he started to wake up. He had met Mark shortly after the young man had accepted the unique parole arrangement with the retired judge and had a high respect for him. Mark had a fierce streak of loyalty to those whom he accepted as friends and Dave understood and appreciated that.

Mike drove slowly back to the station and tried to make sense out of the situation. The most puzzling aspect was how did Mark get back to the estate after being shot. The Coyote, Mike still wished he could drive that race car just once, was back at the estate and Sarah had reported hearing it drive in. It was highly unlikely that Mark's would-be killers would have driven him home.

Mike settled into his chair and pulled open the bottom left drawer of his desk. Though his friends didn't know it, the detective kept a special set of files there, files on both of his friends and the current cases they were working on. He had started the practice to help Hardcastle keep current on events and people and now needed to use it to try and find out what had happened to his friends. He had just picked up the phone to give Sarah a call when his door was opened and Sullivan marched angrily into the small room.

"How dare you! You had no right to place McCormick in protective custody! The staff at the hospital denied me permission to see him without YOUR authorization. I am trying to run a murder investigation here and you are interfering with the interrogation of the chief suspect!" Sullivan's eyes were hard and his mouth was set in an angry scowl.

Mike leaned back in his chair with his fingers laced over his stomach, a slow smile snaking it's way over his features. "That's right. Mark McCormick is the victim of an attempted murder. He was shot in the head from behind. Someone tried to execute that boy, probably the same person who is responsible for the disappearance of Judge Hardcastle. If you would get your head out of your ass, you could see that Mark McCormick is the last person who would hurt Milt." Mike smiled even wider at the shocked look on his visitor's face.

"And just to sweeten the pot, you are my chief suspect. I want any and all of your files on this case, including your so-called informant. If I have to, I'll get a warrant for them. And since this is a retired judge we are talking about, I doubt that I'll have any trouble getting a bench warrant in about 30 minutes flat." Now Mike stood up behind his desk. "And DO NOT let me catch you..." The rest of his sentence died as his office door was opened again and a new visitor entered the room.

"Milt!" Mike nearly jumped out of his chair at the site of the disheveled figure that had entered his office. He quickly took note of his friend's dirty clothing, matted hair, and missing ball cap. Milton Hardcastle never took off the faded baseball cap if he could help it. Mike literally pushed Sullivan out of the way as he reached for the exhausted man who had entered his office.

"Where have you been? I've got the whole force out looking for you? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Mike gently guided the older man to a chair. The fact that Hardcastle let himself be guided spoke volumes to the detective.

"We were kidnaped yesterday. Mark and I started out for dinner up the coast. First we went out to Indian Dunes to test the new tires on the Coyote. We must have been followed because suddenly there were half a dozen armed men on us." Hardcastle's voice lowered and he buried his face in his hands. "One of them pushed me and...and Mark went after him. They shot him, Mike. One of them threw him on the ground and shot him." The jurist's voice was muffled and full of hurt. He drew a deep breath and continued. "Then they dragged me to a car and we drove for a couple of hours. We finally stopped in some beach house. They were going to call Sarah with a ransom demand in the morning. I got loose during the night and got out while they were asleep. I hid out in the woods and fell asleep for a while. This morning I managed to get a ride into town. I walked here from the gas station down on Miller."

Now Hardcastle looked up at Mike's broad face. "They just left him lying out there. We have to go...go get him." Hardcastle buried his face in his hands. Mark had to listen close to hear the anguished whisper. "Mark's dead and I couldn't help him."

Mike leaned over and placed both hands on Hardcastle's forearms. He gave a firm squeeze as he spoke. "Mark's alive, Milt. He's hurt but he's alive. He's in the hospital with Gibbs watching over him. He's got some stitches and a bad concussion, but the doc says he's gonna be just fine."

Hardcastle looked up with a shadow of hope lighting up his eyes. "Mark's alive?" he asked softly.

"Yes." Mike straightened up. "Let's get you cleaned up, then I'll take you to see him. The doc said he would sleep for several hours." Mike reached for Hardcastle's arm to help him out of the chair when Sullivan pushed him out of the way.

"Judge Hardcastle. I'm Cedric Sullivan, with the District Attorney's office. I need you to come with me and give me a complete statement while it is still fresh in your memory. There have been allegations made that must be cleared up immediately." Sullivan drew himself up and gave a small twisted grimace that was intended to be an official smile.

Hardcastle pushed up from the chair and faced Sullivan. "So you're Sullivan." he stated without preamble. "I've heard about you. And right now, I'm going to see Mark. After that, I am going to get something to eat and clean up and then, I will make a statement."

"That will not do, Your Honor. Mr. McCormick has been placed under arrest for your reported murder. While that charge will be dropped, I still do not have any evidence that clears him of complicity in your so-called kidnaping. You will not be permitted to see him until..." Sullivan stopped talking and backed up a step as Hardcastle drew up and leaned in close to him.

"I said, I am going to see Mark. As for his 'complicity' you can shove that up your ass." Never one to hide his feelings of annoyance, Hardcastle was showing Mike a whole new level in communication. "Those men shot Mark. I thought he was dead. I will investigate this and I will find them." Hardcastle's voice and eyes told Sullivan that the judge meant every word and more. Sullivan tried to reassert control.

"You will do no such thing. I am in charge of this case and you will do precisely what I say. Mr. McCormick..."

"Is in MY protective custody." Mike inserted. "Someone tried to kill him. That makes him a victim, not a criminal." Mike gently tugged at Milt's elbow. "Let's go, Milt. I know you haven't even called Sarah yet, have you?"

The two men left the office, totally ignoring Sullivan who was still trying to protest Hardcastle's treatment of him. They were followed down the hall by the sound of Sullivan's voice demanding that they return and follow correct police procedure. Hardcastle stalked down the hall, his face set in a grim mask while Mike tried to keep pace with him.

Hardcastle was silent as the two men made their way down the hall and out the front door to Mike's car. He was unaware of the whispers and pointed fingers and stares of astonishment that followed him. Most of the precinct had heard of his 'murder' and Mark's arrest and subsequent collapse. Mike was aware of the whispers but choose to ignore them, preferring instead to get the judge to the hospital to see Mark.

Hardcastle had admitted to himself long ago that Mark meant more to him than just someone to help him go after criminals. Mark had become the closest friend he had. Mark understood him like no one else had ever bothered to try. The young ex-con knew that Hardcastle had to be rough and gruff just to keep his distance from people. The judge had lots of friends and acquaintances but had no one to share life with. Once he'd had a wife and a son, before cancer and war had taken both of them, along with Hardcastle's ability to share and trust. Then he had found Mark.

Mark had come from a long history of abandonment and struggles to survive. He had ended up in prison for stealing his own car, courtesy of Judge Milton Hardcastle. Though he would never admit it, Hardcastle had tried every way the law allowed not to send Mark inside. He could sense that the young man didn't belong there, but the law was the law. He had kept track of the young man and had followed him closely once he had gotten out. They had been brought together again when Mark had stolen a race car to help the daughter of a murdered friend. From that beginning, the two had become a family of sorts.

Hardcastle stalked down the halls of the hospital, unaware of Mike's guiding hand on his elbow. He stopped at the door to Mark's room, startled to see the husky officer sitting just outside. He turned to Mike.

"Judge Hardcastle?" Gibbs jumped up from the chair, dropping his newspaper. "What? How? Are you alright? What happened?"

Mike reached around the older man and placed a hand on Dave's arm. "I'll tell you in a bit. How's Mark doing?"

Dave shook his head slowly as he moved out of the judge's way. He opened the door and stared at the pale figure there on the bed. "Go on in, Your Honor. He needs to know you are here." He stood silently at the door as the jurist entered the room. He waited till Hardcastle was at the bedside before turning to Mike.

"He hasn't been awake at all. The nurses have been doing their thing, but he just lies there. The doc came in about an hour ago. He said it might just be too early for him to wake up yet, but he is worried too."

"Personally, I think he is waiting on Milt to get here." Mike said simply. Now he turned to face the uniformed officer. "Has anyone else tried to get in here?"

"No sir. I heard that Sullivan called but was told no go. I don't think anyone else knows that Mark is here. I called Miss Sarah and gave her a report on Mark. She is really upset. Have you called her and let her know that the Judge is back?" Dave cocked his head to one side with the question.

"I'm taking Milt home in a few minutes. He can explain everything to Sarah then. I need to check out Mark's place. I have one hell of a big question to answer. How did he drive the Coyote home in his condition?"

Dave smiled as he spoke. "I've got a better one. How in the hell did the arresting officer miss a six inch laceration on the side of his head?"

Hardcastle slowly approached the bed, never taking his eyes off the still figure lying there. He reached out gently and laid a hand on the raised bed rail. He was afraid to touch Mark, afraid to find that his worst nightmare had come true after all and he was alone again. His eyes drifted from the side of Mark's head where he could see the shaved patch of hair and some of the stitches to the IV in his left arm and back to Mark's pale face. Slowly, the judge reached down and stroked the back of his friend's right hand.

"I thought I'd lost ya there, McCormick," he said gruffly. "What on earth did you think you were doing jumping that guy like that? Now look at ya. I thought you told me that you hated hospitals. Tell ya what, you wake up right now and I'll see to it that you at least get a good looking nurse." Hardcastle searched Mark's face for an answer, feeling mildly let down when Mark didn't open his eyes and start grousing.

Mike and Dave had both entered the room and were shook by the image of 'Hardcase" Hardcastle looking so sad and lost. They had both known that the judge was fond of the young ex-con, but neither one had ever thought about how much Milt had come to regard the younger man as family. Mike felt his heart break at the realization that the tough as nails judge had nearly lost the only family he had left. He wasn't sure that his friend could take another loss. He turned to whisper to Dave.

"I've got to get him out of here. It may take both of us. Who else can we call in here to protect Mark?"

Dave thought for a moment. "Tom Kinney. He's had a soft spot for Mark since the day he met him." Dave was referring to the day that Mark had stolen the Coyote, the race car that his dead friend had designed. Tom's police car had crashed while chasing Mark, prompting Mark to stop and get him out of the burning car. In spite of the fact that Mark had saved his life, Tom was forced to arrest Mark at his apartment the next day for the theft. Tom had been grateful when he heard about Mark's arrangement with Judge Hardcastle and the rest of the story behind the Coyote. The two men had become friends and occasionally saw each other just for laughs.

"Good choice. He knows Mark and he hates Sullivan with a passion. Go call him. If he is on duty, I'll talk to the duty sergeant to get him assigned to me for the next few days." Mike grinned at the memory of the only time he had seen Cedric Sullivan trying to talk his way around Officer Tom Kinney. Tom had been assigned to watch a juvenile suspect and wait for his lawyer when Sullivan had tried to bully his way into the interrogation room. Sullivan had convinced himself that with just five minutes of questioning he would get a complete confession out of the 14 year old boy. He had never stopped to read the notes in the chart about the parents having been contacted and the orders to hold all interviews until the family lawyer was present. Officer Kinney had the distinct pleasure to lecture Sullivan, quite forcefully and loudly, on the finer points of law, namely that the accused was entitled to representation before any questioning could take place.