Chapter 8 - Breadcrumbs

Della stopped her rented car in a parking space near the Interstate 80 that led to Walnut Creek. She took a brown leather bag from the passenger's seat and inspected its contents again. Exhausted she leaned back into her seat, drew a deep breath, and let the clasp snap in. She tried to convince herself that she was doing the right thing. She was trying to save her son's life - without real back up from the FBI or anyone else. All she had left were some loose breadcrumbs, hoping Perry would know how to read them.

Hopefully she could return to Sacramento in less than two hours with her son at her side. Her mission was reckless and she was fully aware of the consequences she had to face when she came home or if anything went wrong. Neither Perry nor Richard would be happy about her single-handed actions. But last night when she found the note with the instructions of the kidnappers on her pillow in her bedroom, she hadn't hesitated. It was quite simple. It was Ruben's life in exchange for the documents regarding Rebecca Powell's death. With the file Della had found in Richard's possession and the one she had taken from Perry, every piece of evidence for the murder was gone. When she and Perry had quickly collected their things in the cabin Della had put the file into her bag instead of Perry's. What a piece of luck for her because that way she didn't have to ask Perry for the file. They would have lost precious time discussing the matter. She knew Anderson planned to fake the evidence Hardcastle or whoever had kidnapped Ruben demanded, but she didn't want to risk anything. If those damn files saved her son's life, they should have them. The rest they would figure out as soon as Ruben was safe.

She looked up, checked the map and the instructions again. She was certain to have found the right place. The parking lot was deserted and all she could do now was waiting for something to happen - and praying.

#####

"Dear C, I'm sorry for the breadcrumbs." Perry held the note in his hands and wrinkled his forehead. After Martha had stormed into Richard's hospital room, Perry had contacted Andy and together they had driven to Carlisle's home. Loretta, Della's housekeeper had shown him the strange note she had found on Carlisle's desk in the library in the back of the house.

"That's all she left?" He asked Della's housekeeper. Loretta was about Della's age, but smaller and with short blond curls and a slight Swedish accent. She nodded. "Yes, but that's odd, isn't it? I mean the message lay on Mr. Carlisle's desk. Wouldn't you expect breadcrumbs to be the kitchen?"

"Strange indeed," Andy looked around. As every other room in the house this one was neatly tidy. The only thing that looked out of place was the open door to a hidden cabinet near Carlisle's desk. "What's the meaning of 'C'?" Andy asked.

Perry figured it must mean 'Counselor', but he had kept it to himself. He just shrugged and watched Andy taking a closer look at the empty cabinet. "Empty," he said with a loud sigh. "Does this make any sense to you, Mason?"

"Not yet," the lawyer admitted while his eyes scanned the room. "What did you just say about the kitchen?" He asked the housekeeper who looked a bit baffled.

"That I would expect breadcrumbs to be found in the kitchen," she replied slowly.

"Me too...," Mason nodded. "Let's go there."

"I thought Della was using a figure of speech," Andy said, as he followed Mason out of the room. "You seem to know the house pretty well," he added, when he and Perry entered the kitchen.

"Where else should have been the kitchen in a bungalow if not here?" Perry asked, ignoring Andy's not very subtle implication. He had no wish to discuss his personal life with anyone. His eyes roamed the kitchen and came to rest on a breadbox on the kitchen counter near the window. With quick steps he crossed the room and opened the box. There was fresh bread inside and under the bread a short message on a small piece of paper.

'I 5, Stockton'

Perry handed the note to Anderson. "That's less than an hour from here, but not much to go on either."

"But it's all we've got," Mason said nervously and took the note back. "I wonder... Even if she was in a hurry, when she wrote this... It makes no sense. It's not like Della to do something like this. It's so... too reckless and unthinking."

"I'll send my men anyway, even if it's hopeless. Maybe they ordered her to a parking lot near the Interstate or a gas station."

Andy patted Mason on the shoulder. "We'll do our best to find her."

"Thanks, Andy." Perry said and put the note on the counter. He didn't know if Della was on her way to Stockton or not, but if he knew one thing it was this: it wasn't Della's handwriting. As soon as he heard Andy talking on the phone in the living room, he opened the doors of every cupboard and every drawer. He finally made his find in the trash, where someone had thrown away a crumpled piece of paper. Making sure his back was turned to the kitchen door so that no one could see what he was doing he unfolded the note. This time it was definitely Della's handwriting.

'I 80 to Walnut Creek, Parking Lot. 9am.'

"That's more like it," Perry mumbled and hid the note in the pocket of his trousers. He left the kitchen and found Andy in the living room. He was still on the phone. Perry tapped his shoulder and gave him the silent hint to end the phone call.

"Keep me posted," Andy finished the phone call and followed Mason outside.

"What's going on?" He asked bewildered as he tried to keep track of Perry who moved straight to Andy's car in the driveway.

"Just give me your keys," Perry said and after a short hesitation Andy threw them over. Perry looked over Andy's shoulder, making sure he was being seen by a curious Loretta who was lurking behind the curtains of the near window.

"I think it's best we follow your men to Stockton," Perry said. "Wouldn't you agree?"

He didn't wait for Andy's response and got behind the wheel of Andy's car. Annoyed Andy jumped into the passenger's seat just as Perry started the car.

#####

"So, if you think Della's housekeeper is in cahoots with the kidnappers why don't we talk to her before we go after Della without really knowing where she is?" Andy asked, after Perry had explained his suspicion.

"Because we'll lose time that way. I know Della's on her way to Walnut Creek. I know her handwriting. We can still question her after we found Ruben and Della."

Andy groaned, unsatisfied with the developments. "I don't know, Perry. It sounds all rather unbelievable to me. What if Della is the one trying to distract us?"

She better not, he thought and said, "She wouldn't do that."

Underneath his concern for Della's safety, his anger about her, in his eyes, dangerous decision was boiling. She should know better than trying to deal with criminals on her own. Why didn't she call him instead of running off on her own? Didn't she trust him? Didn't she know he would do anything for her and her son? Frustrated with the way the situation developed he pushed the engine as hard as he could.

While the car raced down the Interstate Anderson was talking to his men on the car phone, ordering a helicopter to search the area as well as a task force to follow them.

"Bad news. My men found Della's car. She left it a car rental, where she rented a small Ford. I hope this is not just a hoax," he said after he had hung up the phone.

"I think it makes sense," Perry said. "Hardcastle makes a lot of noise to make sure everyone is waiting for his instructions near Carlisle and while everyone focuses on Carlisle, he contacts Della and lures her out of town to get the files."

"We need to find out if Loretta is just a harmless tool, someone he bribed or if he planted her in Della's home. Maybe he hired her to spy on Carlisle. Do you know how long she's been working for the family?" Andy asked.

Perry shook his head, his forehead wrinkled. "No idea."

Andy picked up the phone again. "I'll tell my men to keep an eye on her. I want to know what she does next."

######

Della heard a car and startled by the noise she looked up. Finally. A white van was approaching her car and stopped about ten meters away from her. The parking lot was still deserted. The sun was relentlessly burning down on them. Her blouse and jeans were soaked with sweat. With a tension that threatened to break her neck, she waited for the van to stop, before she opened her door. She didn't dare to leave the car just yet. What if it weren't the kidnappers? Della watched a man climbing off the car. When she eyed the gun in his left hand, she didn't have to wonder if the people in the van were whom she had been waiting for.

She scrutinized him as thoroughly as possible, because she knew she had to describe him later on. It wasn't Peter Hardcastle. He was tall, almost as tall as Perry and about her age. He was quite athletic and completely bald. There was something about the way he moved that caught her interest. Had she seen him before? But where? With his free hand he gave her the sign to leave her car. After one deep breath and a quick prayer she grabbed the bag from the passenger's seat and did as ordered.

With another motion of his hand the man ordered her to stay close to her car and came slowly towards her. She felt his eyes penetrating her, when he looked for hidden guns or microphones.

In the distance she heard the sound of a helicopter and cursed inwardly. Surely they wouldn't try to find her with a helicopter, would they?

"You alone?" He asked and looked up to the sky. The noise was fading again and Della nodded relieved.

"Yes."

"Turn. Hands on the car and the bag on the hood."

With slow and very deliberate movements she did everything he told her. The metal was hot under her hands and sweat was burning in her eyes. When his hands roamed her back and her sides, roamed her thighs, lingered too long there, and she bit her lips, but said nothing. Silently she counted to ten, then he withdrew.

"Where are the documents?"

"In the bag. Where is my son?"

The man didn't answer. He just grabbed for the bag and looked inside.

"That's everything?"

Della nodded. "Yes."

He pulled out one folder. "That's from Mason?"

"Yes."

"No copies?"

Again Della shook her head. "No."

He looked over to the van. "I'll get the kid. You stay right where you are, don't look, don't move. Otherwise you can wave him goodbye for good. Understood?"

Again she bit her lip. "Yes."

The sound of his fading footsteps drummed in her ears. She was fighting every instinct of hers that told her to turn, to look out for her boy. Forcing herself to stay where she was she started counting again. When she reached 'thirty' she heard how the door of the van was shut.

Her heart was racing in her chest now and she shifted from one foot onto the other. Torture didn't even begin to describe her condition.

It was the cried out "Mom" that finally let her lose it. She whirled around, saw her son approaching her with fast steps. He was wearing a small bandage along his temple but otherwise he seemed unharmed. His kidnapper stood near the van, his gun pointed at them.

"Come here!" She ordered Ruben and pulled him into her arms. Sure she was squeezing the life out of him she held him and realized how tears were flooding down her face.

"Let's go!" She said and pushed him towards the passengers seat.

"Where's Dad?" He asked, but Della shook her head. "He's fine. We'll go to him now." She closed the door and hastened around the car. She only wanted to leave this place as soon as possible. Quickly she wiped the tears from her face. She watched the man in the corner of her eye. He was watching her every move and she still feared he could make use of the gun. She turned the key in the ignition and put the gear in.

Something in the man's body language changed. Della saw how he tensed. Apparently he was seeing something happening behind Della's car and he didn't like it.

"Mom?" Ruben asked, when Della turned her head to see what was going on.

"The cavellery," she said quietly.

"What?"

"The police," Della said. "Couldn't they wait for just one more minute?"

Della looked back to the kidnapper of her son. He was aiming his gun at her car and then everything happened very quickly. Without thinking she stepped on the gas, the car whirled backwards. The first shot missed its aim. With her right hand Della pushed Ruben's head down, with the other, she yanked the wheel around. The tires span, there was the sharp smell of rubber. The second shot crashed the rear window. Glass shattered, small fragments cut the skin of her arms and her cheek. Ruben cried, his hands were wrapped around his head.

"Stay where you are!" Della yelled. Her eyes searched the mirror for a look at the kidnapper, but she couldn't see where he was. Her car paced across the parking lot. Several black limousines, police cars, and emergency vehicles passed her on her back to the Interstate. They raced down the asphalt and towards the white van. In one of them she recognized Perry behind the wheel with Andy next to him. Then she heard shots and people yelling. Hard she hit the brakes. The car protested and broke down. With bated breath she watched the scene in the mirror while stroking Ruben's back.

The windshield of the van was completely broken and there was blood on the white metal. She saw a bald head hanging over.

"Mom?" Ruben asked. He was sitting straight up next to her and looked out of the broken window. His tears had dried up and seemed curious instead of scared.

"Yes, Honey?"

"Is it over?"

Della looked at her son and sighed. "I think it is... for now."

######

Perry kept himself in the background allowing the forensic team and the coroner to do their jobs. He was smoking a cigarette and just watched the scene unfolding around him. The parking lot had become a busy place for authorities within less than fifteen minutes. What looked chaotic and disorganized for every outsider was a well orchestrated standard operation. Only a few meters away stood an ambulance. One of the paramedics took care of Ruben. He had a broken wrist and several cuts on his face and arms. Della sat next to him and stroked his hair while the paramedic pulled out a broken piece of glass out of the palm of his hand. To Mason's relief she was more or less unharmed, some cuts and bruises aside. He hadn't talked to her yet, but even her being healthy and safe couldn't extinguish the need to shake her for her recklessness. He knew why she did it, understood her, even admired her for unreserved bravery, yet he was mad at her at the same time.

He hesitated to approach her. He felt a bit nervous about the fact that her son could see them together. He knew it was ridiculous; Ruben didn't know who he was and probably wouldn't give Perry's presence a lot of thought. The last and only time Mason had seen Ruben had been a few months after his birth. Now he was 13 years old and almost as tall as his mother. He shouldn't feel intimidated by a teenage boy, but he was. Ruben was the living proof for Mason's failures. If he hadn't been so stupid to lose Della, a boy like Ruben could be his... their son. Now Ruben was Carlisle's son and he would always link Della to Richard.

Thankfully it was Andy who interrupted Della's conversation with the paramedic. Then he gave Perry a hint to follow him as well.

"What do you make of this?" Andy asked when they reached the van. The doors in the back were wide open - and empty. Aside from a rope and a box.

"They used the box to tie up the boy," Andy said while he opened the box. "But this is the real McCoy..." He emptied the box which contained dirty old cord pants, a shirt with holes, worn out shoes, and a wig. They costuming smelled even worse than it looked. It was a smell Della recognized instantly.

"Oh my God...", she mumbled when she realized where she had met the man who had been killed less than an hour ago.

"What is it?" Perry asked.

"I think I know when he wore this," she said.

"Where?" Andy asked excitedly.

"I think I saw him in Carmel two days ago. Just when I arrived..." Uncomfortable and embarrassed she shifted from one foot onto the other. "He must have watched your cabin," she explained to Perry. "I met him in front of the house... He was... annoying and noisy. If he hung around and watched you it would explain why he knew you had a file as well."

Perry sighed and didn't dare to look at Della. He had no idea, he - they had been watched and probably overheard. How else would they have known there was a file concerning Paul's death? With growing uneasiness Perry recalled the day in the cabin – their passionate lovemaking and the heart wrenching conversations about regrets and failures.

"It also means, he didn't work alone. Ruben was kidnapped by two other people," Perry said and added. "We have to find Hardcastle, Andy. He has lost his bait and his ransom. I doubt he will be happy about the developments."

"Talking about the files..." Andy said and gave Della a look. "Thanks for blowing our plan."

"Not as blown as you might think," Della said.

"Why?" Andy asked.

"When I rented the car I asked the secretary of the manager to run some copies that I took with me," she explained. "I also took out some crucial pages, because I hoped the kidnappers wouldn't check out every sheet before they release Ruben. Everything's locked up in their safe."

"Why would the secretary of the manager do this for you?" Andy asked, truly baffled.

"She's the mother of a classmate of Ruben," Della said. "When I explained my problem she promised to help. If anything had happened to me she would have handed over the complete file to you."

For the first time today Della smiled. It was a smile that warmed Perry's heart. He would never not love her – come what may.

##tbc##