Chapter Five: Pieces, together.

As Rick left the apartment and let the door swing closed behind him, he heard the old bag from the apartment down the hall asking something about a gash in the wall. The way she had looked at him when he came up the stairs, he did not doubt that she might even accuse him of somehow being involved although he felt sure she did not see him in the building a week ago. That was when Asher had thrown him out of the apartment after the argument that ultimately brought him back here today. He was sick of that name. Asher. The man was not even close to what everyone thought. Not even Penelope had a clue as to the reality of who he was. The thought bothered him as he descended the stairs and began to imagine the poor girl above him. For a brief moment he paused, considered going back, wanting desperately to tell her everything but knowing that would ultimately doom him. He satisfied himself with envisioning her walking slowly back to the center of her apartment, already falling apart. He could see the anguish behind her eyes, though she hid it well. He imagined her switching the television on, hoping to catch some news about Asher. Hoping to find some answers, some hope, anything. In his mind, he heard the news broadcaster say with a perfectly succinct delivery.
“Former Governor Asher Cole was found dead today…”

He knew she would be falling into the red couch right now, tears already forming. She should not be so alone right now. That was one of the worst things about times like these. He felt bad for her, even if it was his fault.

He left the apartment building and walked to the corner of the block to hail a cab. That was when the real guilt began to set in. He reflected back on the time since he left the force in LA. Things had seemed to make sense back then. His life had turned into a seedy pool of violence and manipulation since. His heart hated what he had become. How did he get so entangled? He managed to hail a cab after a few halfhearted attempts had left him with no response from the yellow cars speeding past and he slid into the back seat.

“Corner of Dudley and south 6th” he said to the driver, already ignoring the man.
The scruffy fellow from the front seat said something like, “Sure, be there in 10.”

Hatchett slouched down into the seat to reflect on his role in the last week, the vinyl squeaking as he slid into it. As he considered his options again, he knew he had no choice, but it still nagged him. He always had this suspicion that there was more going on and, though he would not find out for some time, he was right.

Without realizing it, the 10 minutes passed and the cab turned down the dirty and neglected Dudley Street. The rows of aging apartment buildings loomed over the narrow road like robed judges ready to bring down the hammer. The dark clouds in the sky threatened more rain later, although it was getting cold enough that it might be more than rain this time. As he stumbled out of the car, he stuffed his hands into his pocket and drew out some cash for the driver without bothering to count it. He knew by the driver’s response that it was far more than the trip should have cost but he could not manage a care. As he stepped away from the car and it sped off, probably so he did not have time to change his mind about the generous tip he just gave, he pulled his coat up around his neck, tugged his beanie down fully over his ears, and trudged down the street towards number 215. Through the door and up three flights of stairs had him staring at the door to apartment number 306. He paused and exhaled before putting the key into the lock, his broad shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt. After a moment, he gathered himself up, turned the handle and went inside.

“What took you so long” asked a deep baritone voice from the flickering darkness, just a hint of annoyance spiced with a noticeable amount of animosity. “That should have been a quick in and out thing.” A small, muted television set on a wobbly looking end table cast sickly shadows across the small room and the features of the man behind the voice.

“There were…interruptions…I think she was hit harder than you anticipated.” Rick desperately wanted to scream but suppressed the useless feeling.

“Nonsense, she was involved only to the point where it would cause her to be hurt, but still predictable.”

“I don’t know man, she seemed pretty upset.” Rick responded while pulling open the door to the refrigerator, hunting for a beer. Blue Moon…it was just like this guy to have wheat beer to face the coming onslaught of winter. “I think she may fold up for a few days. It’s going to set you back a bit”

“I didn’t ask for your thoughts, so you can keep your mouth shut. As long as you said everything I instructed you to say, things will be fine”

“If you say so man.” he paused; then added, “We are done now, you know. I’ve had enough of this,” stated Rick, trying to sound absolute, authoritative. Knowing as he said it what the response would be.

“You’re done when I say so. Don’t forget who got you out Seattle when your deal went bad. You do your job just as I do mine. That will keep the unpleasant people from knocking on our door.” The voice never missed an opportunity to assert his authority over Rick like a king. Rick suspected that that small action helped the man cope with his lowly status being almost as unimportant as Rick’s.

“Fine, but I’m just tired of using her like that. She doesn’t deserve it, you know? She just doesn’t deserve it,” Rick said, thinking briefly of his former captain, the late, great Edison Baker. What would he have to say about how Rick was now involved with destroying his only daughter? His spine tingled at that. How things could change in just a few short months. Most people in LA probably did not even know he had quit. What would they think if they knew the truth of what he was into now?

“I know how you feel about her and her father, that’s why you were chosen.” The voice said, erupting into a fit of cruel laughter. “You should just remember why she can never know…or do you want to see what happens if you tell her the truth?” There it was, from laughter to cold dead animosity in one instant, how could anyone change like that, Rick wondered. He decided to change the subject.

“Shiloh called her while I was there” Rick said, even though he was only partially sure it was true. The voice shifted at that and might as well have fallen out of his chair. The man was not expecting that and Rick knew that would cause the fool to worry. Good. “She is using Pen, just like you are.” Of that, Rick was certain.

“I will take care of that one soon enough” responded the voice, not as sure now as before. A flicker of light briefly illuminated the hawkish face of the voice as a cigarette was lit and a long, deep, drag was pulled in. Did Rick just hear a slight tremble in that deep voice? An interesting thought occurred to Rick although he filed it away until he had a chance to think more about it later. Maybe he had a way out after all.

“You can go about your own business for a few days, I’ll contact you when I’m ready to move again” the voice said, “Don’t make contact with her until I give you the word” he finished, dismissing Rick without another thought.

“OK man, you take it easy and keep your head down or all my work will be completely wasted,” Rick reminded the voice as he moved towards the door.

Suddenly, Rick felt a surge of anger rise from somewhere deep that he had been so successful at repressing of late. “She still loves you, you know…its sick, really.” Rick said with disgust. “Did you hear me?!” He almost yelled, his emotions getting the better of him. “Asher, she still thinks she loves you!”

The man the world was just now beginning to think was dead responded with a quiet, chilling voice. “That was the point.” The self satisfied smirk evident in the way the words were delivered.

As Rick left he heard the volume on the muted TV come back to life and heard the broadcaster telling the world “Former Governor Asher Cole was found dead today...”
Rick nearly threw up as he slammed the door behind him.