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The stalker part2

by elessar73

25. chapter: The long way home

Mary's heart was pounding hard and fast in her chest. After she had knocked at Charlie's front door her hand had sunk weakly to her side. She held her breath looking worriedly from left to right. But nothing caught her attention; the yard and surrounding area lay peaceful under a starry sky.

When the pain in her face as in her heart had become too much to bear Mary had pushed open the door of the car and had slipped out of it. Her whole body was throbbing like hell, but she had known, it was now or never. On wobbly legs she had stood besides the car. She had reached out her arm to steady herself when her world had begun to spin. "Whoa," she had muttered silently. Mary had bent her head forward and had taken some deep breaths hoping to recapture control over her body. Her green eyes were focused on the ground. Even in the dim light of the night she had seen the red drops falling from her face onto the cement. She had shaken her head in disbelief causing a bloody drizzle to rain down.

Absent-mindedley her hands had came up to her face and had touched the sore skin. She had cursed her own dullness when a wave of piercing pain had rolled across her face. "Easy," she had told herself. The maniac had pressed her eyes tightly shut evoking pictures of Charlie in her mind. A faint grin had floated around her mouth. She had sighed deeply and for a brief moment she had forgotten who and where she was. She had felt like a little girl again when Mickey hadn't yet been born and she was lucky and jaunty. The moment had passed and with it all her pain had vanished. Mary's eyes had flown open. She had clenched her hands and had stormed across the street and through the yard straight to the front door. Automatically her hand had come up and without knowing what to expect or what to do she had knocked at the door, driven by her desire to get to Charlie.

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Don couldn't think of going to sleep again. An inner voice kept telling him that something awful was going on and that his little brother was part of it. He slammed his fist forcefully into the mattress of his bed.

After he had ended the call with Colby he had collapsed back onto the bed and had pressed his eyes shut, but it was in vain. No matter how hard he'd tried to find some peace of mind, the sinister thoughts about Mary Clark being on the run had found their way back into his cogitations. Finally he had given up; hitting the bed again and again wasn't a solution either.

Don sighed and swayed out of the bed. He walked over to the window and peered into the night. 'It could have been so nice,' the agent thought wistfully. 'But destiny had other plans.'

All of a sudden snap shots of Charlie lying in his own blood, tortured to death popped through his mind. Don's legs started to shake. The agent reached out his hand to steady himself against the window frame. "Oh, my god. I need to go home. Charlie needs me."

Don shook his head violently to get rid of the dark forebodings praying silently that he had still enough time to get home. He stormed back to grab his phone when a knock at his door made him change direction.

Rubbing his weary, dark eyes the agent opened the door and found himself staring directly in to the concerned eyes of his father. Somehow it didn't surprise Don at all to find Alan standing there. The emotional connection between three of them was special.

"Dad, what's wrong?" Don asked while he stepped aside to give his father access to his room.

"Same question to you. What's going on?"

Don grinned inwardly, his father had his classical way of coming to the point - always straight talking.

"Sit down, dad." Don pulled out a chair for his old man. When Alan was seated he sat down across from him. "Something to drink?" Don was playing for time.

Alan scratched his chin and shook his head slightly. "No games, Donnie. What's wrong?"

Don slumped back in his seat; this scene resembled a meeting in the FBI-break room just months ago. Alan had asked the same question and just like then Don didn't know what to say. At that time Don had shared his speculations, which had turned out to be the truth. And now, what should he say?

He was so afraid that his feelings were correct again. He sighed unconsciously.

"Donnie?" Alan reached over and caressed his son's arm softly.

"Sorry Dad. I was lost in thoughts." Don grinned half heartedly. "I have to go home." Don looked up, expecting a veto and thousands of questions raining down on him, but Alan just nodded his head. "I think Charlie is in danger," Don explained.

Alan took in a sharp breath but remained unusually silent.

"Damn it," it burst out of Don. The agent couldn't sit still any longer. He rose to his feet and started to pace the room. "I shouldn't have left in the first place. I knew that something was going on..."

"Donnie, what are you talking about?" Finally Alan couldn't hide his impatience. An uneasy feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach and had grown bigger and bigger as he watched his son.

"There's this murder case back in L.A. The victim and M.O. conforms to Mary Clark's..."

"What?" Alan jumped to his feet.

"It couldn't be her. The team had checked her out," he explained in a low voice.

"But you don't believe it." Alan was trembling. His vision became blurry when tears shot into his eyes. The old man felt like his heart was being ripped in two.

Don squeezed his eyes shot to banish the image of his father begging for the whole story.

"Charlie saw her, well he thought it was her. She stood at the window and peered through it..."

"What are we doing here then?" Alan had heard enough. "Let's go home. Charlie needs us."

"But dad..." Don tried to reason.

"What? You think I'm sitting here while the world's crashing down on my little boy?"

"No dad, I never expected that," Don smiled brightly. "You're right. Let's see if we can get a flight back home."

TBC