Chapter 6
The Roads we walk have Demons beneath
The drive to Sacramento was a silent journey. At first Mason tried to keep Della talking, but he soon gave up. With every passed mile she was secluding herself from him - mentally and physically. She stared out of the window, her body turned away from his. With every gesture she tried to establish distance between them, which was hard for him to bear, but ultimately he understood why she did it.
He would do anything for her, but with every mile they came closer to their destination, he realized he was also coming closer to the life she was leading. It was a life far away from his own. She had a social life there, friends, and a family he knew next to nothing about. A son who was thirteen and that he had never met, a husband who was wealthy and powerful and who preferred seeing the back of him. He, her former boss and not so former lover was nothing but a side figure in this life; a distant memory, and an intruder as he would be told by Richard the second, he laid eyes on him. Not to mention what he would throw at them both when he realized that Perry and Della had rekindled their love affair.
This was what she had wanted to make him understand the night after Paul's funeral, when he had belittled this life and demanded from her to give it all up to be with him again. His refusal to hear any of her reasons had caused this terrible rift between them and it had taken him months to understand that his marriage with Laura and everything that had led to it was a wound of hers that wasn't closing. Today he saw his own failures of the last fifteen years and that night in his apartment only all too clearly.
That evening he had just feared to die alone one day and that fear had consumed him. At least Paul had had a family when he died. Perry had nothing. Laura was his wife, but she also lived a life far away from his. She was busy selling real estate and spent her time with the kind of people he found boring and shallow. She was working on a career of her own, while he was working as a criminal lawyer who had lost his trusted sidekick.
Della wanted him to see that while he was attached to nothing and no one but his clients. She still had responsibilities and she couldn't ignore them just because she felt like it. He had dismissed her concerns as superficial, as nothing that couldn't be adjusted, but, of course, nothing could be further from the truth. Nothing about a family was superficial and she always had that in mind, even when in her grief for a friend, even when she had been making love to him earlier that day. He doubted he could ever make up for the ignorant stupidity of his words. Della's son was her life, he couldn't even imagine what it must mean to her to not know how he was and if he survived or not.
"Stop it," he said into the silence, he couldn't bear any longer.
"What?"
"Blaming yourself."
"Easier said than done."
"Ruben will be fine," he said in a weak attempt to console her.
"Now you stop it,"she returned. "Don't make promises you can't even control. A hospital is not a courtroom."
He reached out for her hand, but she refused to take it. "Don't," she pleaded. "I know you want to comfort me, but you can't. Just let me be."
"All right. As you wish."
Knowing there was nothing else he could do, he focused on the road again. The sunlight was fading and the road became emptier. He stepped on the gas and pushed the engine, hoping they would arrive at the hospital as soon as possible.
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They reached the Sacramento Hospital shortly after sunset. At first he wasn't sure whether it was wise to follow Della inside, but then he decided to go after her. He stayed in the background while she first talked to a receptionist and later to a nurse in the ER who asked Della to wait. With the rising concern of someone who was used to being surrounded by legal trouble Mason scrutinized his environment. The nurses and doctors rushing by seemed nervous, while the people waiting for news about a loved one who was being treated appeared too calm. Most of them were men wearing dark suits who were, just like Mason himself, observing instead of waiting. The feeling that something was deeply wrong made him uneasy. He watched Della in the corner of his eye and noticed she was feeling the same. She had too much experience with the law enforcement not to notice when she was surrounded by cops, though the ones being here smelled more like FBI than local police forces.
For over ten minutes Della was kept waiting and Mason observed with rising concern how she was losing her nerves. After another ten minutes in which nothing happened, Della had enough. Determined she rose from her chair and went to the nurse, demanding to see her family - at once. Surprised Perry watched Della losing her temper and making a big fuss until a doctor arrived and asked her to calm down.
At the same time a man with a hat came down the hallway and started talking to Della. It took Perry a few seconds before he recognized the man, but when he did the realization hit him like a train. Della seemed just as baffled and looked around to find Perry who was smoking a cigarette and almost burned his fingers. He quickly disposed of the butt in the ashtray and joined the small assembly.
"Now, you're not someone I expected to find here," Perry greeted the man with the hat. "How are you, Andy?"
Andrew Anderson, formerly part of the L.A.P.D. gave Mason a friendly nod and shook his hand. If he was curious about Perry's presence he knew how to hide it. The last time Mason had seen Andy was at Paul Drake's funeral. Andy had told him then that he was working with the FBI. "Perry! Good to see you!" Then he turned to Della who was still torn between being upset and surprised. "Hello Della. I'm sorry for the circumstances."
She managed to give him a small smile."Me too! Andy, what is going on here? Where is my son?"
He looked from Perry to Della and then to the Doctor a nod. "I think we should talk to Mr Carlisle now."
"He's down the hall. Last room on the right," the Doctor said, pointing down the hallway.
Andy took Della's arm and led her down the hallway. "Andy, what is this all about?" Della asked again and her voice cracked. Perry was on Della's heels, ready to take over for her. He sensed she was close to losing her composure and hoped Andy as well as the Doctor had satisfying explanations for the absurd circumstances.
"Della, I'm afraid your housekeeper hasn't been quite honest with you, though it wasn't her fault. It was the kind of information she was given by your husband." Andy said when they reached the door in question. "But under the present circumstances we thought it's best you believed your son is here."
"What do you mean?" Della asked while her face lost all its color.
"Ruben isn't here and from what we know he isn't injured," Andy explained gently. "Della, I'm afraid your son has been kidnapped."
######
Perry was leaning against the window frame while he was listening to Richard's description of the kidnapping. After their car had ended up in a ditch due to a forced coalition with a pick up, two men had approached the black limousine. Both had been armed, wore ski masks, and had captured Ruben without losing a word. Ruben had been with Richard in the backseat and Richard tried to get hold of his son while the kidnapper pulled him out of the car. Martha who had been sitting in the passenger's seat was dazed by the bounce and had barely noticed what happened. Right now she was being treated in another room. The driver was still unconscious with a concussion and the doctors doubted he would be able to testify any time soon.
"In other words, no one can describe the men who did this," Della summed up bitterly and rose from the edge of the bed to pace the room.
"We know who did this," Andy said. "Shortly before you arrived Mr. Carlisle received this message." He gave Della a plastic bag with a note inside. "It was delivered by messenger."
"Give us the files. You'll hear from us tomorrow morning." Della read aloud and gave Richard a questioning look. "What files?"
Perry already knew the answer, but he kept quiet and just watched the scene in front of his eyes unfolding. He was sure Della had the same inkling and wanted to know if her husband was about to tell her the truth.
"Rebecca Powell," Richard answered. The color of his face matched the deadly color of the white sheets he was lying in, but aside from a badge on his temple he looked unharmed. Perry presumed he was just kept in hospital to give the kidnappers a wrong impression of the situation.
"Well, go on," Della said impatiently.
Richard cleared his throat. "About two weeks ago I contacted the FBI. I've been gathering evidence about the deaths of Rebecca Powell and Paul Drake. I can prove that Hardcastle and Congressman James Norton are responsible for both of them. It seems they got wind of it and now they're desperate."
"I've been working on that case for some time now," Andy added. "That's why my men and I are here. We have to fly under the radar though. As you can imagine not everyone in Capitol Hill is happy with this investigation. Congressman Norton has many friends in high places."
Della looked from Andy and Richard and back as if she had trouble believing their story. Perry understood her doubts. So far their explanation made sense, but there was still the matter of the money Richard had transferred to Hardcastle.
"So what is the plan?" Della asked. "How do you want to get my son back?"
"We'll give them what they want - or at least an alternative version of the file they are demanding." Again Andy was the one who did the talking. "And then we will trace them and make sure they get what they deserve."
"That sounds very ominous." It was the first time Perry opened his mouth since he had entered the room.
"It's our best shot," Andy turned to Mason. "But at first we'll wait for the next message from Hardcastle."
"What's so..." Perry never came to finish his question, because the door flew open and a woman stormed in. Her age was hard to estimate, but from her clothing Perry figured she had to be in her seventies though her energetic entrance betrayed that impression.
"There you are!" Without dignifying a look at the present men she focused on Della and approached her with a force that was terrifying to say the least.
"Well, Martha," Della greeted her. "How are you..."
"Where the hell have you been? Richard was scared to death when we couldn't reach you at home! We thought you were kidnapped as well! How irresponsible of you not to leave a note! Did you ever think about Richard and how he feels?"
Della looked as if she was hit by a truck, but she didn't even flinch. Perry had the underlying feeling that she was already used to outbursts like these and had learned to react accordingly. Cool as a cucumber she gave Martha a look that could freeze hell. "Well, apparently there was no need to worry about you!" Della turned to Andy and Perry. "Agent Anderson, Perry, this is Martha Carlisle, my mother-in-law."
As if she hadn't seen the men before Martha turned to Andy and Perry and nodded at them.
"What did the Doctors say, Mother?" Richard asked, turning her attention to him.
"I'm fine and free to go. And you?"
"I'll stay for the night... for observation," he added quickly, when he saw how his mother's expression became even darker.
"Can I give you lift?" Perry moved behind Martha and placed his hand under her elbow. "I think your son and Della still have some things to discuss with Agent Anderson."
"Thank you, Mason," Richard said, before his mother could object. "That's a good idea."
"Don't worry about your safety. The house will be watched discreetly," Andy said. "Just in case, the kidnapper will try to contact your home."
Sensing she was beaten for the time being, Martha nodded, but freed her arm from Perry's grip. "All right. I'll be back in the morning."
######
After Perry, Martha, and at last Andy had left, Della turned to Richard. Now that they were alone, there was not much left of his self-assured demeanor. His face was buried in his hands and his shoulders were shaking. Della said nothing and just sat down next to her husband. She placed her hand gently on his arm and waited until he was ready to talk to her.
"I'm sorry," he said after a while. When he looked up to her, his eyes were red and his face even grayer than before. She felt sorry for him, but the worry about her son was bigger than her compassion for her husband's situation. "We will get him back, Della," he said, trying to sound reassuring. He placed his cold hand on hers. "Hardcastle won't dare to hurt him."
"He did dare to kill Paul," she reminded him matter-of-factly. "He did dare to kill Rebecca. What makes you so sure he won't stop at a teenage boy?"
"Because Ruben is his last chance to get what he wants. I know him, he's not a fool. He's calculating and cunning. He knows when he hurts Ruben, he won't get the files."
Della pulled her hand out of his and rose. She slowly strolled across the room. She felt worn out, helpless, and longed for a cigarette, but didn't consider it appropriate to smoke in a hospital room. She felt his eyes on her, wondered, what he was thinking. So far he hadn't questioned Perry's presence, but he wasn't so naive to believe it that Perry being around was nothing but a coincidence. As if he were reading her thoughts, he said, "Since Mason drove you here, I take it the time has come."
"What do you mean?" She stopped dead and looked up. Their eyes met across the room.
"It's finally happening. You're going to leave me for him."
"Why would you think that?"
"Because I don't believe for a minute, him being here is a coincidence. According to Loretta, you left Sacramento yesterday morning and you came back tonight with him... That makes two days that you spent away from home doing God knows what with him." Carlisle's voice was raw with emotion. "Look, if you... if you want him, I can look the other way. I know you've missed out on... a lot. I know we've had our troubles lately... I thought I couldn't stand the idea of you and him. I thought it would kill me, but I was wrong. What I really can't stand is losing you. Especially not now. I love you, Della, I need you. There's no life for me without you!"
Della swallowed. She hadn't been prepared for this image of utter desperation and fear. Richard was a proud man. He was very upright, easily annoyed, and short of patience. He hated it when people patronized him. She also knew he loved her deeply, but that he felt this unconditional was new to her, and it made her feel ashamed of herself.
She crossed the room and stopped right next to his bed. "Right now I'm not even thinking about anything else than getting my son back," she said and took his hand back into hers and squeezed it affectionately. She knew she was tiptoeing around the issue, but this wasn't the time to discuss their marriage or her relationship with Perry. All that counted was Ruben and his safety. "Right now Perry is here to help us and I want you to tell him everything you know about Hardcastle and whoever is responsible for Paul's death. That is all that matters. Do you understand?"
Richard nodded and pulled her into an embrace. She wrapped her arms around him and held him like she used to hold Ruben when he woke up from a bad dream.
######
The short trip with Martha on the passenger's seat in Della's car was a frosty experience. Martha Carlisle didn't utter one single word during their way to Carlisle's bungalow. Della had never explicitly told him why her relationship with Martha was not a good one, but what he had heard and sensed since their arrival at the hospital was all he needed to get the picture.
Sometimes people just didn't get along. He had rarely come across people who didn't like Della. She was good-natured and friendly to everyone who crossed her path. She stood her ground without imposing on people and had a way of getting what she wanted without pushing others to the limit. Martha on the other hand was a force of nature. She didn't want anyone to challenge her authority and she hoped to accomplish that by intimidating others beforehand. Mason wasn't easily intimidating and he estimated it wouldn't take much longer before Martha would start questioning him. His offer to drive her home was his way of getting Martha out of Della's hair so that she could have a private conversation with Richard, something that was impossible with Martha around. The idea wasn't to his liking, but he had to keep his jealousy in check, because the life of Della's boy was at stake. As soon as Ruben was home, safe and sound, he could think about the possibility of a future with her.
His calculation worked out. As soon as the bungalow came into sight, Martha said, "I guess you expect me to thank you for the ride."
"Actually, I don't," he replied amused.
"So, why did you do it?"
"Curiosity," he admitted matter-of-factly. "And I think your son and Della need some time to come to terms with the fact that their son is in grave danger without having someone around who is trying her best to drive a rift between them."
Martha was aghast. "Well, so it's true what they say about you. You don't make prisoners, Mr. Mason."
He stopped the car in front of the house and both remained in their seats. Perry phrased his next words very carefully. "I think we can be honest with each other. I'm sure you love your grandson and you want him back safely, but it'll only come to that when you all stick together. Lashing out on Della for something she had no control over won't improve the situation."
"I was wondering when you would start to make this about her," Martha said and this time deep satisfaction was clouding her voice.
"Actually, you're the one making this about her," Perry shot back. "You're so obsessed with blaming Della you overlook that your son's involvement with the wrong people led to this."
"Richard did nothing wrong. He only wanted to protect his family!" She snapped at him.
"That's one way to put it." He didn't even try to hide his sarcasm. "Listen, Mrs. Carlisle, I don't know what your son told you, but this isn't just the kidnapping of a teenager. It's connected to a series of murders and one victim was a very good friend of mine - and of Della."
"I know about Paul Drake. The papers were full of it. Della came to L.A. and went to his funeral. She lied about it, of course, because she wanted to avoid staying with me." Perry noticed how bitter she sounded. "Did she stay with you instead?"
"She didn't." Mason replied without providing any more information.
"Well, Richard thinks she did."
"Richard's wrong."
"I don't want my son to get hurt," Martha said sharply. "He deserves better."
"And I don't want Della and her son to get hurt. As far as I'm concerned they deserve far better," Mason said and lit himself a cigarette. "Della loves Richard, perhaps more than he deserves, but I admit I'm biased. And most importantly she loves your grandson. She's going through hell right now, because she doesn't know if she'll ever see him again - alive and unharmed. Give her – and you – a break and try to get to know her. You'll find she's a fine woman who never wanted to hurt anyone and she deserves your respect for everything she's endured so far."
"This isn't a courtroom, Mr. Mason. There's no need for a plea."
"It wasn't a plea. Just the truth," Mason said and decided to drop the subject of Della. Maybe Martha had enough to think about for the rest of the night now and would leave Della alone at least for a while. "The house will be watched all night long, but be careful and lock the door. Don't let anyone in, unless it's Della, Agent Anderson or me."
"Do you really think we're all in danger?" Martha asked.
"You were in that car when the kidnapping happened. What do you think?" He asked back.
Martha didn't reply. Obviously Perry had indeed got her thinking. It took her almost a minute before she finally nodded and said, "All right, Mr. Mason. I think it's time to call it a night."
Always the gentleman Perry left the car to open the passenger's door for Martha. She didn't bid him good night, before she entered the house and he hadn't expected her to do so. He lit himself a new cigarette and sank behind the wheel. He started to feel the exhaustion of a long day that had been a roller coaster from the very beginning. From the moment he had opened his eyes to find Della in his kitchen to now fourteen hours had passed. Fourteen hours in which he had gone from questioning everything in his own life to the point when all what counted was saving the life of a young boy.
###tbc###
Martha's truly a handful, isn't she? I don't know how and when she sneaked into my head, but she made herself comfortable in there and enjoys making a plea for her point of view ;-) Have a great weekend!
