Past Mistakes
Usual disclaimers: Don't own, just taking the characters out for a little joyride. I promise to bring them back unharmed.
Takes place sometime in season one.
Chapter One
Nathan's loft in Boston. A new client is settling in for an interview:
"Eight years ago, in an abandoned building, my husband almost lost his life. You see, he was a hit man for the local crime boss in Las Vegas."
Nathan Ford sat quietly and waited for the woman to continue. Mrs. Bronson wasn't the first client for the Leverage crew, but she was the most colorful by far. She dug in her purse for a moment and pulled out a dog eared picture of her family taken in happier days.
Nate politely took the photo and studied it. In it were two young boys, kneeling in front of their parents on the front lawn. The house behind them was lit up for the holidays. It was a picture perfect scene that one could find on any Christmas card.
"Jonathan, the oldest, was fourteen at the time. He has his father's features, brown hair and eyes and scowling face."
"Bryan is two years younger and obviously takes after my side of the family," she said with a hint of pride in her voice." Blond hair, cut almost military style, and an infectious smile, lit up his youthful face.
"Tell me a little about your husband's past," inquired Nate as he handed the photo back to the woman. "Were you aware of what he did for a living?"
"Not at first. Sal was very good at hiding things and my upbringing was very old fashioned. To question his actions would have been unthinkable. My father was the bread winner while my mom stayed at home. And the tradition continued after I got married."
Mrs. Bronson paused to gather her thoughts. Sophie handed her a cup of coffee and joined Nate, who was seated on the sofa.
"So everything changed after that night eight years ago?" prompted Sophie.
"I guess you could say that." Mrs. Bronson smiled bitterly at the grifter. "One day we were all living a comfortable lifestyle in Las Vegas. And the next week we'd all been uprooted to a small town in South Dakota. I was a little shell shocked to say the least. The boys were young enough to adapt. But Sal, well he took it kind of hard. Being in the witness protection program and depending on strangers for protection just didn't sit right with him. We moved five different times before we ended up in Boston."
Mrs. Bronson's hands visibly shook as she took a sip of her coffee to steady her nerves. She placed the cup on the table in front of her and pulled out a tissue to wipe her eyes before she continued her story.
"But life went on and we quietly settled into our new life. Sal started up a landscaping business. Jonathan, our oldest, helped out on weekends at first. He joined his dad full time when he turned eighteen."
A sad look crossed her weary face. "We got complacent," she said, "and let our guard down. We foolishly thought all this mob business was behind us for good. Little did we know it was only the beginning of a new nightmare?"
"When did you find out your cover was blown?" asked Nate.
"About two months ago. Sal started acting funny, like he was hiding something. He'd come home long past dinner time and head straight for the liquor cabinet. It didn't take long to put two and two together. The late night phone calls, cars driving by all hours of the night. I confronted my husband and he denied anything was wrong; until I found this."
The older woman pulled a plastic bag from her purse than contained an envelope addressed to her husband in red crayon. Pulling it out of the bag, she started to hand it to Nate.
He hesitated slightly. "I assume this has been processed, Mrs…"
"Call me Nora," the woman insisted. "And, yes it has. No prints were found."
The woman placed the envelope on the table before Nate and then took another sip of her coffee.
Nate glanced at Sophie and wondered what she was thinking. The grifter had a knack for reading people and Nate had come to depend on her expertise on more than one occasion.
Sophie smiled slightly at Nate and quietly observed Nora's body language. The mother was visibly upset and with good reason. Her red rimmed eyes told a story of lying awake many a sleepless night, fraught with worry over her family's future. But it was her voice that truly broke the grifter's heart. Broken and spent, and just about out of hope. She truly was in desperate straits. Sophie nodded to Nate surreptitiously and then picked up the envelope. Inside was a short note scrawled in the same red crayon. Sophie scanned it briefly and then handed it to Nate.
Nora sat on the edge of her seat and ran a worried gaze across the two people seated side by side. "Do you think there's a chance of saving my son, Mr. Ford?" she blurted out.
Nate drew in a harsh breath and turned to face Nora. "When did your younger son get arrested for murder?" he asked instead.
The mother wrung her hands nervously before she answered. "Bryan was arrested six weeks ago. But it was a set up. The mob did this. I just know it."
"Does your son have a lawyer?" asked Sophie.
"Yes," she huffed. "For all the good that's doing. The lawyer hasn't been able to get a bail hearing set, even after all this time. He's being stonewalled and he's running out of options. Sal and I are running out of money too. We don't know how much longer we can afford to keep his services."
"Someone's pulling the strings from inside," observed Nate.
"That's what Bryan's lawyer thinks too. But his hands are tied."
Nate rubbed his hands together, deep in thought. "Tell you what, Nora," he said rising from the sofa. "Sophie and I will do some checking and let you know if we can help."
Nora took her cue that the interview was over and rose also. Extending her hand in a goodbye gesture, she followed Nate to the door.
"Please let me know as soon as you can," she pleaded as she stepped into the hall and walked the few feet to the open elevator. As the doors closed Mrs. Bronson's pleading eyes met Nate's. He felt her pain and anguish and nodded reassuringly. Closing his door, he rejoined Sophie on the sofa.
"Time to call in the team," he said quietly.
"Agreed," said Sophie. "And the sooner the better. Can you imagine the heartache that poor mother is going through? Her youngest son set up for murder by the mob? It's just not right."
"Yeah, well that's what we're here for, isn't it? Trust me," said Nate. "We'll make the guilty party pay many times over."
