The Fourth Life: Chapter 57

Todd was at his desk.  It had been weeks since he was at The Sun, and he had gone in to reconnect with his paper and his staff.  He was reading through some articles, when Timothy appeared at the door.  After knocking, he made his way into the office.  "Lad, I finished the articles you asked for."


"Thanks, Timothy."


"You're not imitating my brogue.  What seems to be the trouble, boy?"


"Blair.  Worried about her."  He was studying the papers in front of him, and avoiding eye contact with the older gentleman.


"Ah, you're in the doghouse, eh?"


"No, nothing like that."


"Do you want to talk about it?"


Todd put his papers down.  "I suppose I do, I just wouldn't know where to start."


"Just start wherever you want to start, Lad."


"She thinks she killed Carlo Hesser."


Timothy's eyebrow went up.  "Thinks?"


"All right, she did.  She said she remembers killing him."


"Then might she have?  Is it possible?"


"It's possible.  Of course.  He took everything from her, at one point or another.  Likely responsible for the death of Sommer."  He thought, and then quickly said, "You wouldn't tell anyone else this?"


"No, believe me, if I were planning that, it would already have been out."


"I don't understand what you are saying."


"I saw her."


"What?"


"I saw Blair, standing over Carlo Hesser, in his hospital room.  I told myself I would never tell a soul.  I'd been dreaming about it just this week.  I saw her standing over him, aside his bed, with her hands clenched."


"Why didn't you say something to me?"


"Lad, now think about it, what sense would that have made?  It was up to her to tell ya."


He thought, then nodded.  "Did you see her..."


"No, I didn't see that.  I...I was so shocked, and startled, I rushed away.  I was, well, I must admit something."


"I'm listening."


"I felt I was intruding, as if I did not belong, embarrassed, and left her, speechless.  I should have intervened, but I didn't."


Todd did not respond.  "I'm asking you, please, to never tell anyone this, especially McBain or the police."


"Of course.  I was already interviewed by Lieutenant McBain.  I never let on.  I wouldn't."


Todd looked at Timothy, and said, "Thank you."


"She doesn't deserve any more pain.  She's had enough."


"Some would say she deserves to be punished, she did break the law."  Todd fished.


"That man deserved everything he got.  She did nothing wrong, in my book."


"Mine either," Todd said.


"Well then, let's move on from this, shall we?"


"To what?"


"These articles.  Do you want any changes?  I can sit and wait while you read."


***
Kathleen Finn was on her balcony, sipping tea, and looking off into the sunset.  The day was finally ending, and she was not sure what was coming her way.  Mac could have told McBain already what her role was in the plan with Carlo and the shooting.  Then she thought of Blair Manning, and the surge of guilt came over her again.


She was in the hospital, tracing her own steps with her eyes as she crept through the hallway.  Blair was sleeping, and the monitors were tracking her life.  She stood, outside her room, looking through the glass.  She noticed how Blair's hand was still on her stomach, protectively, and it made her wince.  Then, without warning, the woman jolted in the bed, and tossed as if embroiled in a terrible nightmare, and began to thrash about, wildly, and cry out, "Don't let them take her!"  Kathleen jumped; it frightened her, and brought her back to a moment in her past that she had hoped to forget; when she herself had screamed almost the same words when she woke to find her baby had died.  She shook, and pushed herself against the wall, trying to gain composure enough to go on.  She wanted to find him.  She had to see him, for herself, one more time before she fled away from Llanview and everything that had occurred.  She searched the floor that Blair was on, and having no luck, she went to the next one up.


Finally, she discovered what she was looking for.  Watching from behind a corner, the guard outside Carlo's hospital room was standing, shoulders back, head forward, and hat on straight and formal.  She approached, thinking how she would make her move.  She said, "Officer."


"Yes, ma'am."


"I want to visit the prisoner.  Can he have visitors?"


He looked at her sweet smile, and recognized her.  "Aren't you Mayor Finn?"


"I was, yes."  She contained her bitterness and smiled larger.


"I remember you.  You actually spoke at my graduation from the academy."


"Ah, yes, how nice of you to remember.  Please, just a moment with him."


The guard thought about it, for a moment, then said, "All right.  I can't see any harm in it."


She walked into the cubicle, and approached the bed.  She waited, before saying anything, and absently rested her hand on the bed near his.  She looked at the monitors, which showed a regular and strong heartbeat.  Suddenly, he grabbed her hand and she jumped, sucking in a burst of air.  "Carlo!"  She said, aloud, in an urgent whisper, and yanked her hand back.


"You could not stay away from me, my dear, so good to see you,"  he said.  He was beaten almost beyond recognition; his face was a mine field of bruises, lacerations and swollen bulges.  His nose was bandaged and a bloody knot was on his bald scalp.  One arm was held against his body, wrapped in cast material. 


She said, "You're alive."


"Yes, I'm alive.  I am not giving in yet."


"So, who put you here, as if I don't know?"


"Todd Manning.  That emotionally fragile excuse for a man..." he growled softly.


She swallowed, "You thought he was strong enough to torment him for eight years."


He ignored her.  "Why are you here, Katherine."


"Kathleen.  I'm here to see you, once more."


"Are you going somewhere, dear?"


"That doesn't matter.  Did you tell Mac to shoot that witness?"


He just smiled, the most heinous crooked smile, because it was against the pain of every muscle in his face and in response to something horrid.  "You must know me by now," he said, and took her hand again.  


"Don't touch me," she said.


He laughed, slightly, and grimaced at the pain in his ribs, "You weren't saying that against the wall in the bottom floor of the penitentiary.  From what I recall, you weren't saying quite the same thing."


She blushed out of embarrassment, and said, "Why don't you go to Hell." 


"Oh, on the contrary, my dear, you will be going there.  Eventually.  Most likely sooner than you think.  Aren't you in Hell right now?"


She blinked, and said, "What would you know about me, or my life?"


"Everything," he said.  "You're thinking of everything you've lost, everything you've given up, and everything you've counted on."


She faltered, and used the side bar on the bed to steady her.


He continued, "You and I were one and the same.  Remember?  When we were together, the sky was the limit.  And I know you remember this.  I know you dream of it, which is why you were begging me to be inside you not a month ago."


She swallowed.  "Anything we had was over when you lied to me, and our baby died."


He interrupted, "Died.  Yes." He was almost laughing when he said this.  


It struck her so odd, the way he chuckled to himself, but could not bring herself to ask.  She went on, further enraged, "What happened in the cellar of jail was....loneliness, that's all it was."


He feigned surprise, "Really?  It didn't seem like it to me, when you wrapped yourself around me, and we rocked against each other and that wall.  You said something to me, do you recall?  Between your moans?"


She was losing control.  "No, I don't.  I'm going now," she said, "Let go of me."


His grip became firmer.  "You said that you loved me.  Was that loneliness, too?"  


She struggled to get away from him, but he held fast, and she fought.  His good hand was clamped on hers, twisting, and her arm was feeling as thought it might snap under the pressure of his grip.  She continued to struggle, and found her other hand going to his neck...


She shook her head, and pulled her sweater closer around her shoulders.  Her cell phone rang, she answered it, listened without saying much, and replaced it to the glass table.  Sitting there on the balcony in the pink light of the pending sunset, she knew why, at last, he had strangely laughed about the death of their child.  Her child was alive, after all.  And she, in her own sickness, had been part of the attempt on his life, and party to the capture and brainwash of him.  Shuddering, and feeling abruptly cold, she shook, holding the sweater around her like a protective barrier.  He was gone, and she was safe from him and her feelings for him, at last. 


***


Zeus hung up the phone, trance-like.  


Tea said, "What is it?"


"She's my mother.  Kathleen Finn."


"Oh my God.  I'm not sure what to say."


He looked at her, "I don't either."


"It changes things for you.  Instant family."


"I know.  I've never been able to say this before, but I have a Mother."


'Yes," she said, touching his arm.


"I....I don't know what to do, or how to feel."


"It's a lot.  Take it slow."


"I want to see her."


"I know, I can imagine."


"I want to go and see her, now."


She put her arms around his neck and hugged him, close.  "I understand."


"How do you tell someone this?"


"I don't know," she said, releasing him from the hug.  "I guess you would get a copy, and bring it to her?"


"I could," he said, taking his keys off the table, "whatever it is, I have to go."


"Please call me, unless you want me to go with you."


"I..." he kissed her and held her, "I appreciate it, but I feel like I should do this alone."


"That's all right, just keep me up to date, will you?"


"Of course," he said, readying to go.  As he walked out, she thought about how much it had meant to him to find someone who could help him understand himself, and was relieved.


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