by Dale Mayer
His smile fell away, and he nodded. “Did he ever beat you?”
“No, he seemed to be perfectly content to beat my mother,” she said sadly. “I think there were a couple instances when I was little where my mother intervened. It was almost like an unspoken agreement that he could beat her all he wanted, but he wasn’t allowed to touch me that way.”
“Well, that’s one thing in favor of your mother,” Bonaparte said. “But better if she would have left him than to have exposed either of you to that kind of abuse.”
Zadie thought about that for a second. “I don’t think she could leave him. She’d always been extremely vulnerable to his power of persuasion, and I know that she firmly believed he was the right person for her. So separating them would not have been easy.”
“You didn’t really think she would leave him, did you?”
She took a slow, deep breath. “I had hoped that she would,” she said honestly. “But obviously I couldn’t count on that.” She led the way down the neighbor’s side yard, which had a huge double gate with a circular driveway that went around to the back. The gates were unlocked. “These gates are always open,” she said. “They don’t have any kind of security system set up, and most of the time nobody lives here.”
As they walked along the fence, Zack looked over at her. “That’s quite a nice private area. The fence itself is what? Six, seven feet tall? And then you’ve got all these fine trees along with it.”
She nodded. “It’s one of the reasons why I worked so hard to leave in the evenings.”
“Did you ever get caught?”
“Not by my father. My mother came in once, and I wasn’t there. I had to tell her the next day where I was. But other than that, no.”
“Your mother was okay with your behavior?”
“No, not at all.” She smiled. “How many mothers are? But, when I explained I had to get away when he started hitting on her or call the cops, she accepted my decision.” She shook her head at the memory of the pain of watching her mother take the beatings, knowing that neither of them would thank her for calling the cops. “I tried calling the cops once,” she murmured. “But the gatekeepers wouldn’t let them in, saying that all was fine. Both my parents had to go down and talk to the cops.”
“Ouch,” Bonaparte said. “I imagine your father didn’t appreciate that.”
“I was punished severely for my interferences, as he would call it. … I slowly realized nothing could break the weird relationship they had.” She shook her head. “But now that he is dead, my mother should have a few peaceful years on her own.”
“Maybe,” Zack said. Just then his phone buzzed. A text from Levi. “He’s got somebody who landed in Istanbul. He will talk to the housekeeper who imprisoned you. And her husband and brother-in-law.”
“Good,” she said. “Make sure their father doesn’t get out of jail.”
“He also sent a file on both your parents. Did you know your father had two heart attacks already?” Zack asked.
She looked at him in surprise. “No, I didn’t know that.” She thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “They didn’t tell me anything like that.”
“Or how about the fact that your mother has cancer?”
“What?” She stopped cold and stared at him in shock.
“According to the medical report, she’s refused treatment.”
Immediately Zadie shook her head. “She wouldn’t do that,” she cried out.
“Are you sure?” Bonaparte said. “The treatment for cancer is difficult. Many people prefer not to go through all that pain to end up dying anyway,” he murmured quietly.
She stared at him, then back at Zack. “She wouldn’t do that,” she repeated. And then she stopped and whispered, “Or would she?”
“According to the medical file, she already has,” he said. “And she’s only been given four months to live.”
Her hand rose to her mouth instinctively. Even in the darkness, he could see the color washing away in her cheeks. He grabbed her free hand and held it close to his chest and said, “Easy. Just take it easy.”
“It’s an awful lot at once,” she murmured.
“It is,” he agreed. “You need to be strong right now.”
“Sure,” she said bitterly. “My parents were political prisoners. My father’s been killed. Apparently he wasn’t all that healthy to begin with. Now you’re telling me that my mother is close to death herself? Basically, no matter what happens here, we only have at most four months to be together?”
“And that’s if she survives this,” Bonaparte said, motioning at the house up ahead.
She took another slow breath, closed her eyes, and then nodded. “Right, let’s focus on giving my mom whatever few months we have.” The two men exchanged glances. She frowned and said, “You don’t think she is even alive anymore, do you?”
“Honestly, no,” Zack said. “The kidnappers have no reason to keep her alive once they got what they wanted. And, depending on what they got from here, there is a good chance they might have left your mother behind.”
“Behind?” she asked, as if needing to have it spelled out.
“Behind, as in dead,” he said softly.
*
They drifted stealthily to the gate that she had pointed out. Since he’d spelled out what he felt they could find inside, she’d fallen silent. And honestly that was probably the best way to go. At the gate, she opened it and stepped through. But first, the two men stepped forward, checking the grounds for any danger to avoid.
She looked up at the ladder, which was basically a large metal trellis. “It’s easy to climb,” she murmured. “Or would be except for my leg.”
“I’ll go,” Zack said. He immediately launched himself up the trellis and then higher. He climbed to the bedroom window that she pointed out, slipped inside, and stopped. The other two hid in the greenery below.
He checked the room and found it empty. It would be good if they could get Zadie up here but better not to go via the trellis route. It would be too hard on her leg, but she would likely try it if they didn’t get a chance to slip her inside through the front door. He searched the room, gave an all-clear hand signal to Bonaparte, and then opened the door to the hallway. He listened, but he heard no sounds. Zadie had given them a nice verbal layout of the house from top to bottom, so he knew all the bedrooms were upstairs.
At the window at the staircase landing, Zack noted the small gatekeeper’s cottage at the back of the property, where the housekeeper and landscape groundsman worked and lived. He checked the next bedroom, which was empty, and the one beside it as well. With any luck, the entire house would be empty, and Zadie could come in through the front door.
When he got to the master bedroom, the doors were closed. He frowned and listened hard, but still he heard no sounds. He quietly pushed the door open enough that he could peer inside. It did look like somebody was in the bed. But he wasn’t too sure because so many pillows were there too. And he didn’t dare turn on any lights yet, so the evening cast a shadowy pall about.
He frowned and slowly slipped back out again. He moved lightly down the stairs and to her father’s home office. People had already been through the place pretty exuberantly. Files and drawers were everywhere. He raced through the entire downstairs and found nobody here. He moved to the window below her bedroom, part of the dining room area, and told them both through the glass to go to the front door.
There he had Zadie disarm the security and opened the front door and locked them in. He had her arm the security again. If anybody came and questioned why the men were here, the authorities would understand that the daughter had returned home. Zack motioned upstairs and said, “It looks like somebody is in the master bedroom.”
She looked at him with a brave smile. “My mother?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I came down and did a quick search around here, but I haven’t seen anyone.”
She nodded and headed to the stairs. “I need to go see.”
“While you do that,” he said, “we’ll check the office for the ledgers. The place was searched in an ugly way. Drawers and files are tossed everywhere.”
“Let me check on my mother first.”
He glanced around and frowned because he wanted her to stay here, but she was already halfway up the stairs. With a look at Bonaparte, Zack pointed his partner toward the office, and Zack raced up the stairs to her side. “It was dark. I saw no movement, so I don’t know if anybody is actually in the bed there or not,” Zack said.
“Given the time of night, if they left her, then she could be in bed,” Zadie chipped in.
At the master bedroom, he took a deep breath and asked, “Are you sure?”
She gave him a hard look. “The news won’t be any easier tonight versus tomorrow. If my mother is in here, I want to know.”
He opened the door, and they stepped inside. She called out, “Mom, is that you?”
She reached across to a light on a separate wall with a dimmer and turned it on, but she kept it low, just in case her mom was sleeping.
There was a form in the bed, but it didn’t move. He lifted his nose and sighed sadly. She looked at him and frowned. He walked over to the form in the bed, turned on the light on the nearby nightstand, and stared down at the old woman, who lay under a blanket on top of the bed.
Zadie rushed to his side. “Is it Mom?” As she saw her, her face broke out in smiles. And then she got it. “Oh, my God.”
Zack caught her up in his arms and held her close. “I’m so sorry,” he said.
She looked at him in shock. “Maybe she is not dead,” she cried out. “Maybe she is okay.”
But he’d already confirmed no chest movement, no eyelid movement. Not only was she gone but she’d been gone for several hours. “She’s gone,” he said. “It looks like she lay down and died, or maybe she died on the way here with the men. They probably carried her up here, laid her on the bed, and covered her with a blanket, hoping it would give them some time to get away,” he murmured.
She stared down at the form on the bed and sobbed.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, just holding her close, letting her cry.
She whimpered against his chest, soaking him as her grief poured out. He knew that she’d already known this was a possibility, but the reality was always so much harder to accept.
When she was finally done, he reached over to the night table, took several of the tissues there from the box and handed them to her. She nodded and smiled. “Thank you,” she said, looking around. “Can you leave me with her for a few minutes?”
“Of course.” Zack stepped back. “Where is your father’s safe?”
“It’s in the office,” she said. “It’s kind of odd. It’s built into the desk and the wall.”
He looked at her in surprise.
She said, “Go find it. I just want to spend a few moments with my mother.”
He nodded. “You know there was nothing you could have done, right?”
“Well, that’ll be something that’ll always haunt me,” she replied sadly. “Because, whether there was or not, it’s well past the point where I get to make that decision. It’s too late for all of us.” She sank to her knees in front of her mother, picked up her mother’s hand, and held it against her cheek. “I’m so sorry, Mom.”
“You might want to remember,” he said, “that, if she loved him as you said she did, she will be happier now to know that she is not alone without him.”
She looked over and gave him a watery smile and nodded. “I know all that. At least in my mind. But, at the moment, my heart aches.”
“I’ll leave you alone for a few moments,” he said. “Please be careful.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Do you think anybody is still here?”
“It’s a huge house,” he said, “and chances are somebody is possibly still around the property.”
She nodded. “I doubt they are here though,” she said. “Not when my mother is here.” He hesitated, but she waved him off. “Go, see if you can find the safe,” she said. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“We’ll leave as soon as you are ready.” And, with that, he slowly nodded.
At the doorway, he stopped, looked back at her, but her head was bowed on the head of the bed, as she said goodbye to her mother. Something was so poignant and so sad about her situation that he could feel his own emotions catching in the back of his throat.
His own parents had been gone for a long time. A grief that he barely remembered as he’d been only nine at the time. There had been lots of grief back then, but now, as an adult, it seemed so distant. To see it so fresh and raw like this hurt and brought up his own feelings. He shook his head and called out softly, “I’ll leave the door open.”
She didn’t seem to hear him, but then why would she? She was fully caught up in her loss.
He glanced around the room, making sure no hidden dangers remained. The closets were opened, as if they had originally left in a hurry. He checked the hall bathroom and the other rooms upstairs, then slowly made his way downstairs.
As he walked into the office, he saw Bonaparte standing in the middle of the mess, looking around. “Safe, what safe?” he said, shrugging.
“You can’t find it?” Zack asked.
“No,” he said. “What did you find?”
“Her mother,” Zack said with a hard look. “She is dead.”
Bonaparte’s eyebrows rose.
Zack quickly explained what they had found. “There was no sign of trauma that I could see while she lay there,” he said. “It’s possible a bullet hole is hidden under the blankets, but it looks like she just laid down and died.”
“It’s possible,” he said. “They could have poisoned her, but then again she could have been so overwhelmed with grief at the loss of her worthless husband that she may have just closed her eyes and passed on herself.”
“Maybe,” Zack said. “What we’ve got to do is find that damn safe.”
“Yeah, show me where it is,” Bonaparte said, “and I’ll be happy to help you open it.”
Chapter 9
It was hard to stand up and walk away, but she had no other option. Zadie didn’t know how long ago her mother had passed, but her body was cooling. It was possible that she had died on the way to the house. That would have frustrated the men transporting her here, wanting the book of records. The fact that they had laid her on the bed and covered her up, showed a compassionate side that she found unexpected. Unless somebody else had done that. If her mother had laid down and covered herself up, that would make more sense, but, if the men had done it, what would be the reason? The only thing she could think of was that they needed to hide her presence longer.
Zadie was grateful that no signs of violence appeared on her.
If somebody peeked in here and thought she was sleeping, then that might give the kidnappers an extra hour head start. It would also explain why the kidnappers couldn’t find the safe. She presumed they hadn’t because of what Zack had said. That her mother had died on the way here.
She straightened, walked into the bathroom, washed her face and hands. Took another long look at her mother’s body and whispered, “I’m sorry, Mama. I’m so sorry.” Then she walked out of her mom’s room.
She closed the door behind her and leaned against the door and stared up at the ornate ceiling. Her father loved the gilded scrollwork that decorated the house, but Zadie loved simplicity. She stared down at the floor, noting the same carpet that had been here when she used to come visit years ago.
Her gaze landed on her socks again. She shook her head, limped her way over to her bedroom, and checked the closet to see if she had any hope of some clothing. At the very back were dresses and a couple sweaters. She could use both of them, but pants, leggings, jeans, anything tight that covered her legs would be difficult right now. Particularly being as injured as she was.
Now what were her chances of finding socks?
/> She went to the dresser, and, in the bottom drawer, she found several pair of jeans, leggings, underclothes, socks, and various T-shirts. With a smile, she took them all out, laid them on the bed and checked for anything else. She would need these eventually. The rest of the dresser was empty.
She took the clothes from the closet, brought them over, and laid them down as well. For her, this was a gold mine right now. She had no idea where the rest of her clothing was that she had traveled here with, but presumably it was long gone, disposed of by her kidnappers. Zadie traveled lightly, with just a backpack, and this stash would nicely replace most of that.
She also needed to shower. She frowned and looked around, walked to the night tables and found them both empty. And then went into the bathroom. She found toothpaste, toothbrushes, brand new, as if they had left them waiting for her to come home or waiting for another guest. Not too sure what to make of it, she walked back out to the hallway and leaned over the stairwell.
She heard the men in the office, but she didn’t want to go all the way down there just to inform them that she was stepping into the shower and then climb the stairs again. Her leg hurt already as it was. They would surely hear the shower and understand. She went into the bathroom, grabbed several towels, locked her bedroom door, then the bathroom door, and stripped down. Careful of the bandage on her leg, she stepped into the hot shower. The relief of feeling the warm wet spray soak down her back and her sore head was incredible. She stood under the water, her hands bracing her against the tile, and she let the water pour.
She opened her eyes and shrieked.
There was Zack, glaring at her. She immediately tried to cover herself, but he shook his head. “I didn’t come here to gawk at you,” he snapped. “But what the hell were you thinking by locking the doors and not tell us what you were doing?”
She pointed at the door behind him. “Get out,” she said. “You can yell at me later.”
He turned, walked out, slamming the door behind him. That brought reality back home to her. Because, of course, he would assume something was wrong with the doors being locked. How her kidnappers could have left the water running for all he knew.