Chapter Eighteen (Luke..I Am Your Faaaaather…)
Cordelia had finished a quick shower and now was packing her meager belongings into two K-Mart bags, her mind having shut down an hour ago. She tried to sort her plans for the day, but her heart just wasn't in it.
She could have run away from the man she heard clicking away at his keyboard in the other room. She could have probably done so in the early morning hours but she did not know the countryside. She did know it was a goodly stretch into town and that the nearest home was miles away. Not to mention, it was near freezing last night.
The road here was not heavily traveled. She had seen no cars what-so-ever in all the time they had been at the cabin.
Her thoughts were with Edward Miller although, she never thought of the rotund little man by that name, but rather his moniker.. 'Millie'.
Of course, her priority must be his safety. She must not be impetuous however. She must choose her time. She must wait for the right moment.
There was a definite strain between Mr. Finch and herself but it was a natural one he accepted, she thought. She had calmed herself, knowing to survive, she would have to outwit her captors.
How was that even possible. Cordelia sat heavily on the window seat, her hopes dashed. Mr. Finch was so very much more intelligent than she.
She could not allow herself to think in such terms. This entire situation was her fault. She must, at least, try to put it to rights.
But how?
Mr. Finch had said they would go to the city soon. Some possibility must surely present itself for escape once she was on more familiar ground.
Cordelia forced herself to react normally. She even asked Mr. Finch if he wanted her to make him some eggs and toast but he refused the offer, going to take his own shower.
The woman nibbled on her beloved white powered donut, each tiny morsel sticking in her throat. She thought the meager meal might actually come back up at one point, but..it didn't.
She listened to the sound of the shower upstairs, listlessly arising, clearing the two cups and saucers, for Mr. Finch had sipped on his sencha green tea..washing them mechanically, drying them, putting them neatly away, waiting for Mr. Finch to finish up whatever it was delaying their departure.
Cordelia felt sick at heart. First and foremost because she truly believed she had put a dear, precious man at risk. Edward Miller was one of the lost souls on Earth but also, one of the good, decent, caring people still remaining.
She refused to think about the other reason she felt so miserable.
In the past year and a half she knew 'Millie,' she had become greatly attached to the odd little man. She constantly sought to better his position in life, for she had a little money set aside, enough to rent him a little flat, perhaps..she would have made certain he had food and medicine but the man steadfastly refused any and all offers of aid.
Cordelia had to settle for constantly bringing him food, blankets, clothing..not new, for those only made him a target for others like him who were unscrupulous about stealing the 'good' stuff.
She had learned the lesson the hard way when Millie had ended up in the Emergency Room last winter after she had bought him a new coat. The man had been mugged, his coat stolen, his assailant hurling him to the curb where he had hit his head..hard.
But, Cordelia could not sleep, knowing he was cold..or eat, if she thought him hungry. So, the cycle was a never ending one. She didn't mind, really. As long as the man was content.
Her own Father had been less than hoped for. But Millie was sweet and gentle and kind. He was also very old and frail. But, there had been moments when she caught glimpses of what he once was, his mind would snap into place..and she was introduced to Edward Miller, the genuine article.
A big-hearted, gregarious man with a wonderfully dry sense of humor and infectious laugh. An idealist who saw the world in a better light then it deserved, Cordelia was certain. A quick- witted, highly opinionated man who could discuss any and all subjects intelligently.
Those flashes were few and far between granted, in Millie's delusional, self-imposed world but they were well worth the wait.
Cordelia had seen Millie several times, around the Park area, long before she actually met him face to face. Of course, each 'street person' had a tale attached to their, often sad, sometimes, tragic stories.
Willie was known to be one of the few people noticed and begrudgingly accepted by the 'cold-hearted' people of New York City.
He never caused trouble, kept a low-profile and never, ever..pan-handled. Maybe because he didn't make any passersby's feel the ever-present 'guilt' for their lot in life, which was decidedly better, of course..he was often singled out for daily 'contributions'.
Millie often brought in twenty or thirty bucks a day. Which he invariably shared with his own kind.
And at night, he would blend back into the city, going underground to places of safe harbor. There was a whole sub-culture below the streets, it was said.
A dark world frequented by the less fortunate. Even thieves and muggers refused to go there, firstly, because the pickings were slim but mostly because they fancied themselves above such an environment and did not wish to be associated with the pitiable creatures forced to live within the damp, dank tunnels.
Cordelia's thoughts were with these people as Finch weaved his shiny new auto along the extension bridges and roads that would eventually take them back to a destination the woman was not yet privileged to know.
They had traveled in relative silence for a goodly stretch. Cordelia welcomed the reprieve of having to keep up the pretense of normalcy but Finch was troubled deeply by the chasm now between them.
"..Communication is the key to bridging any misunderstanding, Cordelia." He reminded, loathe to have to do so, his pride pricked by having to be the one to speak first. "I cannot fix the problem unless it is brought to my attention."
Cordelia's eyes teared up. "It cannot..be fixed, Mr. Finch." She sought his countenance. "Can it?"
"So.." his anger surfaced, his hands tightening on the wheel. He stared straight ahead. "last night meant.. 'what' to you?" he found his male ego did not like to think he had been used. "Is it something you 'do' with any and all men?"
Cordelia's heart constricted and she gasped softly for it hurt..him thinking her..
Harold closed his eyes for a brief second, shaking his head curtly. "..Forgive me." He asked, hating himself for such pettiness. "..I did not mean..that." No..he most certainly had not. "I know it is untrue and it was a terrible accusation and I am truly..sorry." He was, glancing at the woman's stricken face. "Truly."
Cordelia grasped at the peace offering like a dying victim on sinking vessel. "It meant..everything, Mr. Finch!" she blurted, choking on her own emotion. "More than you c-can ever know!"
"Then..what?" Harold demanded her put an end to this hideous situation. "I am trying to make amends for my part in this debacle. I am trying to put matters right. What more can I do?"
"I.." She wish she had answers..for both of them, but..then there was Millie.
"I know your trust no longer lies with me but your friend is in serious danger and frankly.." he explained snippily. "Your options are severely limited. Mr. Reese and I are all you have remaining."
No..Cordelia thought to herself. 'No'..if she could get to Edward Miller, to warn him..then perhaps the man himself would know what to do. He had eluded these types of people before.
Another thought occurred to the woman. What about..her? What about..Davy?
"…I want to speak to Taylor!" she demanded shakily. "I want that..right now! This exact moment!"
Finch, although he disliked her 'tone'..reached into his grey tweed vest inner pocket, handing over his cell. He could use the auto's in-house system but he thought, Cordelia might prefer privacy.
She was keeping a lot of secrets from him. He didn't want to 'intrude', after all. He cast her a 'pissy' look, returning to his driving.
Cordelia weathered his foul mood, deeply troubled by it, all the same.
"Push 'two'." Finch advised tartly.
She followed the instructions listening cautiously, almost gasping when the deep, silky voice drawled a lazy.. "What'd ya want, Finch…I'm..occupied."
"..I want to speak to Taylor!" Cordelia stammered nervously.
Reese lifted curious brows. "Well.." his soft whisper sent shivers down her arms. "And a good-morning to you, too, Ms. Fellows." He chastised in his own way.
"..I..I w-want to talk to her! I want that…" she swallowed hard because this man scared her witless, truth told. "R-Right now!" she tried to use her best no-nonsense tone but it came out rather weak and ineffectual.
Reese grinned, handing over the cell.
Davidivitch tucked the towel more securely about her breasts, her brow subtlety furrowed with concern as she took the phone, placing it to her ear. "What is it, baby girl? Are you ok?"
Cordelia was..incredulous. "..You're..alright?" she could not believe it. "Truly?"
Taylor glanced at a totally nude John Reese, admiring the view. "Oh, honey. I have never been more 'alrighter'. What's up?" she ran a gentle finger down one of Reese's many scars on his back, having first kissed the tip it with her lips. Her eyes met the man's which had cut to her face indulgently. "You ok? You sound..I don't know." Davidivitch's scowl increased. "Freaked."
"No..no, I'm not..that." the green eyes kept darting to Finch's profile. "I'm..fine. I..thought.."
"She THOUGHT…" Finch raised his voice, snapping his opinion. "John had murdered you in your sleep, Ms. Davidivitch."
His tone was rather ironic..no, more sarcastic, really.
Taylor smiled seductively over at.. 'John the Murderer.' "Well, actually, we haven't gotten around to that 'sleeping' part yet. John? Do you plan on murdering me any time soon?"
Cordelia felt like sinking into the well upholstered seat! How absurd her former line of thinking had been..apparently.
"I have other plans for.." Reese halted his actions of examining his five o'clock shadow in the steamed up mirror, his hand stopped mid 'rub' of his jawline, eyeing her casually, his gaze flicking the knot of the towel with undue interest. "You into the 'rough' stuff, Davidivitch?"
Was that hope she read in those dreamy eyes. "We'll talk." She pursed her lips sensually, sending him a 'kiss'. "What's going on with you, kid? Something is not 'right' in 'Cordelia Land'. I sense it."
The younger woman felt like crying, but she held it together. "Millie is..in danger."
Taylor sobered. "Your guy? In the park?"
Cordelia nodded, tearing up, rapidly telling the sordid tale, her speech patterns rambling. Of course, she left out her suspicions about the man sitting next to her and the one she thought might be murdering her friend. "And..it's MY fault! If I hadn't wanted to write this stupid..STUPID story, no one would even look twice at Millie! He told me, Davy, he told me..people were after him. I didn't listen!"
"He's a fruit basket honey, no one listens to him."
"I have to do something. I have to..warn him, at least!" Cordelia was at her wit's end. "They may have already..gotten to h-him!" a sob caught in her throat.
"Who?" Davidivitch wanted to know. "Who are these people you keep referring to? No one knows about him anyway..right? But me and you."
John Reese didn't seem to be listening to the conversation, shaving his handsome face, dipping the disposable razor in his basin, shaking it clean.
Cordelia had not known how to answer because..someone else knew. Now. Thanks to her big mouth and witless brain.
"Hey, listen." Davidivitch had an idea. "No problem, right? John and I will go get the little freak, bring him her.."
"NO!" Cordelia's voice was shrill. "NO, DAVY!"
Finch cut her a disparaging glance, shaking his head wryly.
"I m-mean.." the young woman caught her slip, flushing terribly. "that won't be necessary." She frantically looked for an avenue of escape but the traffic was moving at a fast clip, flowing smoothly this, of all days.
She cast a hasty glimpse at the other occupant of the car, her nerves stretched to breaking.
"Something is up with you, girl." Davidivitch's tone hardened. "Now you spill!" she settled in, ready to wait it out, her arms crossed across her ample bosom, her hip resting on the sink edge. She leaned, tabbing a bit of shaving cream from John's ear. "I am not getting off this phone until you.."
"No." Cordelia asked more than told. "I just wanted to connect with you." That much was true. "Ohhh, Davy. This is the worst mess ever!" she ran her hand through the mass of blonde hair. "What are we going to do?"
"Exactly what John and your little geek friend tells us to do." Davidivitch knew her own plans, at least. "Stop worrying so much. It will all work out, you'll see."
Cordelia often admired her friend's ability to 'let the dice roll' and see where life took her but in this instance, the young writer did not believe Taylor had thought the problem through. "Alright .." She gave it up. "As long as you're ok, then."
"Why wouldn't I be alright?" Taylor watched John pull his boxers up the muscled, hairy legs, sulking prettily that he would soon be dressed and civilized once again.
Reese grinned his amusement, picking up on the reason for her sullen mood.
"I have a big, strong, handsome man looking out for me." She chuckled at Reese's comical 'muscle' pose, as he flexed his well honed bicep for her consideration. "even if he is a dork."
John managed to look 'hurt' at the snide remark, resuming his wardrobe change, with but one chastising look in the woman's way.
"I'm fine, sweetheart, but what about you?" Taylor still hadn't gotten any concrete evidence that Cordelia was functioning properly.
"I'll feel better when we find Millie."
"Good luck with that." Davy sighed. "The little spider monkey could be anywhere. What can I do?" was the more prevalent question.
"Mr. Finch wants the cell.." The girl looked at the outstretched hand. "Be safe..I'm fine. Really."
Cordelia handed the cell over obediently.
"..John?" Finch was suddenly glad he had foregone his impulse to use the car's audio system with the next words out of Davidivitch's mouth.
"What have you done to my BFF, you little weasel? Did you 'bop' her?"
Reese hastily grabbed the cell from the woman's hand, sending her a 'behave' glare. "I'm here Finch." He soothed some ruffled feathers. "What do you need?"
"Ms. Davidivitch is most..direct." Harold had lifted a discerning brow at the heated accusation. "We must locate and extract a homeless gentleman by the name of Edward Miller..'Millie' is his street name. I know you have contacts that can assist, yes?"
"What's he got to do with.."
"I'll explain all in due time. Ms. Fellows and I will begin our search at the Union Park pavilion. If you would try the train station? I know many of the less fortunate reside there after dark. They may still be around. I'm sending a photo but it is terribly out dated."
John checked his phone. "Well, he's going to look different." The photo would be of little assistance. The guy grinning back at him was wearing an suit and tie, was clean shaven and except for the long, hippie style hair, was the picture of a normal male out of the Sixties.
"Ms. Fellows knows what he looks like now." Finch shifted a non-descript stare. "but I doubt she will be any real help in locating him."
"What's going on there?"
"She thinks we have gone over to the Dark Side." Finch returned his interest to the flow of traffic around the sleek automobile. "Keep me informed, Mr. Reese." Harold clicked off, returning his cell to his inner vest pocket.
John knew that tone. That was not a 'good' tone. Not at all. He wondered at the circumstances which had brought about a Harold Finch 'pissy' day.
He shrugged, letting it go. Finch would clue him in..or he wouldn't. His job was to find this Miller guy. He would do his job.