Perry Mason yelled her name into the phone until the dull buzz confirmed that the line was dead. He jumped from his bed, searching for a pair of pants. 'Wait,' he told himself, as he ran to the living room to find his keys. 'I don't even know where she is.' Terrible scenes flashed through his mind, blurring each other into morbid helplessness. He couldn't stay, but wasn't sure where to go. If he left and the phone rang again, he may never find her. But if he stalled it may be too late.
He picked up the phone, but panic confused her phone number in his mind for a few seconds. He dialed. A busy signal pulsed in his ear.
He dropped the receiver and ran. He didn't lock the door behind him.
The cool night shocked the skin under his thin t-shirt, but he didn't care. Della's scream, then the dull snap of the line as it disconnected skipped through his mind.
Lighting a cigarette, he pushed on the gas pedal and the car sped toward her building. I should have called the police, he thought. But that would have been wasted time. He'd already lost a few minutes, and if someone had Della somewhere, it wouldn't be difficult to break into her apartment and take the phone off the hook. He had to get to her beforeā¦a lump filled his throat and he refused to continue the thought.
Tears blurred his eyes as he ran the red light, glancing through the empty intersection. When he had dropped her off at her building, just a few hours before, his stomach turned as he watched her fit the key in the front door and disappear behind it. Perry tore his hand through his hair. It was true that he always hated seeing her go, knowing that he'd rather follow than return to his own place. But tonight was different. He couldn't tell her that he had an odd feeling that nudged his gut; she'd think he'd gone soft. He cursed himself for having swallowed the nerves that plagued him as he drove away from her.
Tendrils of fear pricked the roots of his hair. Ugly little thoughts and imaginings of what was happening to Della at precisely the same moment he passed through the boulevard, right by the diner that served the pancakes with butter and maple syrup just like she loved, then past the dress shop where she had bought her favorite hat. Perry didn't know if he was speeding toward her or away from her. What had she said when he picked up the phone? He couldn't remember. Her voice had been quiet, maybe nervous, but the scream came decidedly after she had said something else first.
Logic told him that she had most likely called from home. He turned onto the stretch of road, realizing he had at least fifteen more minutes ahead of him, at best, before he'd approach her neighborhood. He slammed his palm onto the steering wheel. Why had he left her this evening? Why hadn't he ever considered that something like this could happen? Why hadn't he protected her?
He sped on and on, blocks disappearing in streaks of neon light. First Street, Second Street, Grand Avenue. Time existed in seconds and hours all at once as Perry cursed and pushed the car faster.
Her block was empty as Perry's car stopped in front of the building. He darted to the front door, noticing that he was parked next to a fire plug, but he didn't care. He pressed the buzzer and pounded his fist on the door. His mind saw her on the floor of the living room, clutching the phone. He kicked the door and yelled into the intercom that reached the night guard.
"Hurry," he shouted. A wrinkled man in a tidy uniform opened the door a crack. Perry pushed him out of the way and sprinted for the steps to the second floor.
"Della," he screamed as he reached her apartment, twisting on the locked knob. He threw his weight against the door to no avail. He reared back, desperation twisting his face, determined to tear it off the hinges if he needed to.
It swung open before he could move further. Della collapsed into his arms.
"Perry," she heaved, and her knees buckled. He caught her and carried her to the couch. She clutched his arms, burying her face into his chest, listening to his heart roar beneath her ear. He gasped for breath, half crying, murmuring her name into her hair.
"What happened?" he whispered. After a few moments her eyes, red and dazed, raised to his.
"I had a bad dream," she said. He knew she was lying.
