The Fourth Life: Chapter 20

Weeks passed, and the trees lost all leaves.  November was upon them and making winter's arrival known.  Todd, returning from Mountainview, plopped himself next to Blair in the home office.  "Hey, beautiful, what's cooking?"


"Part one of the expose is out.  It covers the first Ireland thing, your almost death then, what effect it had here at home on us and our family.  Lasting effects."


"Blair?  Do you ever still hold against me that I went to help Marty that day?"


"Sometimes, I think about what would have happened if you didn't go.  But hold it against you?  No."


"I still do.  Hold it against me, I mean.  I ruined our lives, basically."


"If you didn't go, Patrick would have died instead.  That means Cole would have never been born.  It also means Hope wouldn't be here."


He pushed her hair back from her face with his index finger.  "Yeah, true." 


He looked better than he had in months; his coloring was perfect, he'd trimmed his hair and goatee, and his face seemed more alive and less tired.  She said, "Do you know what today is?"


He feigned stupidity.  "Uh, let me see.  Is it someone's birthday?  I think we already had yours come and go, didn't we?"


"Yes, Todd, we did."


"Oh yea, that's right, we did.  It was back in October, I think, right?"



"You bought me a diamond bracelet, you think you'd remember."


He said, "Does this have anything to do with today?"  Pointing to the window.  She looked up to see hundreds of Gold Balloons floating over the house.  "Todd!"  She threw herself onto his lap and kissed him.


"A special day like that, you think I'd forget about it?"


"No, I guess not."


"That was so many years ago.  And I'd give anything to live those times all over again, with you."  He kissed her, deeply.


She put her head onto his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him.  Her legs were draped over both him and the arm of the chair.  "I love you, Todd."


"I know you do.  I'm lucky that way.  What do you have planned for today?"


"Nothing, not really."


"What about this?"  he held out two tickets.  They were to a Borodin concert in Maine.  


She smiled, "You never cease to amaze me."


"We can just hop the copter, get to the airport and get the jet and go."


"All right.  Should I get ready now?"


"Yep.  I want to take you by the ocean up there, and show you a few sites beforehand.  Leave it to me, Blair."


"All right."


"And I got a limo for the night to take us around.  We can stay over, if you want."


"Okay, I trust you with this."


"The kids are going to stay here with Addie and the crew."


"Gotcha."


'Blair, you're not arguing with me about flying in the copter or about the kids being alone."


"Why bother?  They'll all just go on your side.  Besides, I love this idea," she rubbed her hands together.  "I'm going to go get ready and throw some things in a bag."


"We won't need much," he called after her.


***


Carlo made his way back to the phone area, again chained at the wrists and ankles, and picked up the receiver to dial.  There was no answer at the first number he called.  He repeated the action, as if redialing, and got no response at the second number.  Finally, he tried a third time and this number rang until he heard the receiver picking up.


"Hello, waiting for your information on my 'appeal.'"


"That's just it.  There won't be one.  The Men of 21 have decided to cut their losses."


"Excuse me, what are you saying?"


"We are not interested.  We're moving past this, and your affiliations have caused us nothing but grief.  The consensus of the group is to reject your membership and continue without your presence.  This number is the last to be disconnected.  Now that you have contacted us and we have made our intentions clear, we will no longer be accepting calls from you.  Your largest mistake was taking your personal revenges too far, Hesser.  Hiring Leona was the second.  We won't be associated with that type of psychopathic behavior and brutality.  Good day."  The phone clicked off.  Carlo, losing his patience and cool, redialed the number.  What came to his ear was a recording about a disconnected number, and he slammed the phone down.  He turned to return to his cell, and said softly aloud, "Todd Manning, that androgynous mistake of a man.  We'll see who holds the cards, Mr. Manning."


He shuffled back to his cell, and the guard closed the gate with a particularly loud clang.  He sat on his bed.  "This is how you want to play it, you long-haired, emotional weakling.  You were the perfect target with all your baggage.  If my hand is forced, I'll pull out my secret weapon.  Either way, Mr. Manning, you and that brood of yours, is at my mercy."


***


She was still getting ready and Todd was setting up the copter for the ride to Maine.  He'd called ahead and made certain that their room, at a stunning but older hotel in York Beach, was not too long of a drive to the concert in Portsmouth, New Hampshire.  He also arranged for them to have an ocean view and a fireplace.  While throwing things into a bag for himself, he came across it.


The police station was not as busy as usual.  It was close to eight o'clock, and most of the cops had already gone home.  Todd and Blair had stopped to see John, shortly after returning to the land of the living, and they had talked about Carlo's arrest and pending charges.


He didn't want Blair to know, so he pretended to need to use the bathroom, and headed to the evidence room on the bottom level.  Prepared this time with a wire cutter, to get inside the evidence area without being noticed and take it.  He snipped a few of the wire pieces, enough to slip his arm inside and undid the latch.  Searching for a few minutes, around the spots labeled most recent, he found the envelope, marked, 'Hesser,' and opened it.  It was cold and smooth against his hand, and the blood was still stuck to the blade.  He pocketed it, quickly, and went on his way, bending the wire pieces back into place.  It appeared that nothing was changed, and he sauntered off, to return to Blair.


Leona's knife.  The skinner.  It shone when he moved it.  He had taken the time to clean the blade, sometime back a month before, and had hidden it in his drawer.  Something had compelled him to take it, and he did.  He held it in his hand and it was weighty, cool, and somehow seductive.  He held it a moment, with his hand still in the drawer, and pictured visiting Carlo, and pretending to forgive and forget.  After a few minutes of their conversation, as it played in his imagination, he jumped onto the visitor table, hopped the glass partition, and drew it back, slicing Carlo's neck with it, and watching the blood spurt from him and mark the walls in spatters.  


Blair stepped into the room from the bathroom.  "Todd, are you almost done?"


He placed it back beneath the clothes that he used to mask it, and said, "Yeah, I am."  He felt relief, as if tension had left him, when he finished the story in his mind, and walked out, no one noticing or speaking to him, as blood poured out of Carlo onto Statesville's floor.


"Blair?"  he bellowed, "Blair? You ready?  It's a short trip, Blair."


"I'm ready," she said, coming out of the bathroom at last, and gathering her bags.


"You have like three bags!  We're going to be there overnight."


"Well, I like to be prepared," she said.


He took her hand. "Let's go.  Perzno is waiting.  Only about a ten minute trip to the airport."


They loaded themselves into the cab of the copter, throwing their bags into the back cargo area.  She snuggled close to him, and he put his arm around her.  "All set?"  he said, looking at her.


"All set."


"Todd, you look better than you have in a while.  I think the therapy with Ray is working."


"Probably."  he seemed matter of fact.  If you include the pictures of Carlo dying a thousand different ways therapy.  "He said for me not to be upset if I have any setbacks, but so far, so good."


"I'm proud of you."


He hated this.  She gave him more credit, as always.  She thought of him as more truthful, more balanced and more healed than he ever was.  "Thanks.  But there's nothing to be proud of."   Especially if you knew how many times I felt relief watching him die in my mind.


"You seem less angry."


"I am.  That's working, I guess.  I've got to let go, it just takes time."


She looked at him with a puzzled expression.  "So, which anger are you letting go of?"


Manning, she knows you better than you think.  "The anger against Leona, for what happened to me.  The things he did to me.  The torture, the...other stuff.  All of it."


"That's good."  She said, leaning her head on him.  "And of course, you're working on your hatred for Carlo, right?"


He looked at her out of the side of his eye, "I'll get there."


"I wish I could," she said to his surprise.


"What?"  he looked at her, amazed.  


"I wish I could get rid of my anger toward him.  I have this sick feeling, like I want to see him crushed in an apple press."


He laughed.  "An apple press?  Only you would come up with that one."


"I know, huh?  What do you want to see happen to him?"


No fair reading my mind, babe.  Or were you watching me?  "Electric chair, I guess.  Hanging.  Lethal injection."


She smirked.  "All yours are things done by the courts.  Mine aren't."  She ran her hand up his chest, and played with the buttons at the top of his shirt.  "I want to do something really bad to him, like, watch him suffer.  I think about it a lot."


"Blair, are you goading me?"  he said, outright.


"Huh?  What does that mean?"


"Antagonizing, teasing, getting me to...say something you want to hear?"


"Me?  No.  I mean what I am saying.  I want to see him fry for what he's done to you and almost done to me, and to LIttle Ray.  He's a nasty fucker who needs to die, slow."


He smiled and let a small laugh free.  "I wondered when this Blair was coming back."


"All that Mommy brain, softens you up.  He went after you, one of the few things that matters to me aside from the kids.  He took you from me both times.  Don't I deserve some dark fantasies once in a while?"


"Sure, I guess."


She became very serious.  "Tell me, Todd.  Tell me what you think of when you dream of killing him.  I know it's happening, and I know it's on your mind.  I can see you get that faraway look and then suddenly, you're back and you're much calmer."


He thought about it, and he held his breath a moment.  He knew what she wanted and where she was headed.  "I lied to you, Babe."


"I can't say I'm happy, but I'm glad you're saying so.  What did you lie to me about?"


"More like, I didn't tell you some things."


"All right.  Shoot.  I'm ready, and I want you to trust and me tell me now."


"I dream of killing him all the time.  Mostly when I'm awake.  I think of doing all sorts of vile things to him."


"I do, too."


"I picture them really well, they're like movies, in my head.  After they're done, and the moment of his death comes, it's like..."


"Freedom?"


"Yeah.  Like freedom, or some kind of release."


"Me, too.  Don't be scared, Todd.  This doesn't make me afraid or anything."


He went on, "I can plan a whole scene in my mind, almost like I'm writing a book."


"A screenplay," she added.


He nodded.  "Sometimes, it's really bad.  After I see it, I feel better, then I feel guilty, and sick.  Once I threw up after, because what I did to him..."  he stopped.


She looked up from his shoulder, "It's all right, Todd."


"I don't want to scare you."


"You're not.  I'm fine,"  she put her head back down, "Go ahead."


"Because what I did to him was so harsh."


"It's not like you didn't have eight years of models to look up to in this area," she was sarcastic.  He loved her like this; brazen, to the point, and tough.  No one was like Blair, no one.


"I got lots of lessons, from Michael Leona.  He is the king of baseness."


"Was.  Was the king.  Until my king took his ass out," she said.  "You're not the King of Baseness, though.  You're the King of Survival."


"Then that makes you my queen, Babe."  He kissed the top of her head.  The ride was almost over, and he wanted to come totally clean with her.


"Babe?"


"Yep?"


"I did something....I broke the law."


"I know."


He said, "You know?"


"I know.  That's what I said, I know."


He was puzzled.  "What do you know?"


"I know you broke into the evidence room and stole his knife."


He pulled away from her, "How?  How did you ever know that?"


"I found the wire cutters.  Put two and two together there.  Then, I found the skinner."


"When?"


"About three weeks ago.  Maybe a little longer.  When we first moved in."


"I'm sorry, Blair.  I should have told you."


"It's okay.  This is all so much, Todd.  You had to tell me in your time.  I figured sooner or later, you might."


"So, did you lie to me?"


"About what?"


"The fantasies of killing him?"


She folded her arms, "Nope.  Every last word is true."


"All right!" he hailed her, and folded his arms.


They stayed quiet for a moment.


"Think you'd act on it?"  He asked her.


She sent him a sideways glance.  "Nah.  You?" 


"Nah."


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