Diamond in the Rough: Chapter 64

"Laurence, your mail.  For some reason, you get a lot of it."


"My followers.  They Heed my Word."


"Yeah, whatever.  Here."


Mitch was handed a pile of open letters and began to leaf through them.  "Ah, it's about time," he said, re-opening one of them immediately, and then sitting on his cot to read it.


The Beloved Messenger,
I hope this letter finds you well.  I have continually kept your message at the forefront of my family's life and mine.


Your previous request of me is accepted.  I will certainly help you, and send you the funds you require.  I have received the bank account numbers that you provided and have deposited said amount.  My wife and I are very happy to help.


Please let us know how your idea for a church site within the penitentiary pans out.


Mr. Samuel Feldman


Mitch smiled, and put the letter back into the envelope.  "Things are going just perfectly."


He went back to his Bible and continued reading.  Getting into his current chapter, he had almost forgotten about the other letters he had received.  All were open, and sitting on his bed, as he read another verse from The Good Book.  Finishing, he closed the Bible, and slid the open letters into the cover for later.  Everything was falling into place, but his plan was still in the early stages.  Alison, still incarcerated, had made contacts for him during her work furlough through The Mental Rehabilitation Program, and was able to get him the beetles easily, hiding them for him in the underground tunnels of the prison.  He smiled.  Alison was always such a faithful follower of his over the years.  How she had managed, in her time at Statesville, to convince everyone of her need for mental health treatment escaped him, but she had.  It was a saving grace for him, in many ways, having her part-time on the outside.


Samuel Feldman was not the only financial backer, but he was the most frequent.  Somehow, Mitch had justified the man's devotion masking it as religious conviction.  Laurence, however, knew the underlying purpose for the man's continued contributions, but he had learned, over the years, to ignore the doings of the followers and focus on what they could provide to The Messenger.    


His followers and deacons, of course, were a perfect example excellent legs and eyes outside, but it was over now.  He still sneered thinking about his brothers, whose mental instability and sexual obsessions had lead to eventual doom.  But he could not change anything about Miles' life, or Walker's.  Both of them were gone from the earth.  He was the remaining Laurence, and still reigning victorious, and would.  His plan was perfect.


He would escape.  That, he reminded himself, he left for his most prized follower.  She was putty in his hands and had no problem agreeing to help him.  She would make the escape part of the grand scheme simple.  He had already begun working on one of the guards.  He was the one would would do anything for the inmates for a buck.  Mitch had already enlisted his help on several occasions.  "And," Mitch thought, "he will again." 


Once outside the doors, he would find his way to Todd Manning's family, and get his son.  Perhaps from school, or from walking somewhere with friends.  His prized follower was watching the boy and making notes already, compiling the information for him.  It was simple.  Easy.  Manning would pay.  Once having the boy, he would trade him for the Lord Fortune, and establish a new identity elsewhere to live his life as he chose.  Alison had asked to come with him; he had lied to her and told her that she could.  This made her more pliable when it came to getting her to do things, including serve him sexually in the catacombs of the jail.


No, Alison would not see freedom.  Only he would; it would be safer.  He would make it, on his own, and live somewhere warm on Manning's money.  For a moment, he fantasized of having Natalie with him.  This would be the ultimate revenge on John McBain.  But, he knew that was not going to work.  Instead, he would stop and make a visit if he had the time, possibly rekindling their romance from their marriage years back.  Yes, that would work, if he had the time.  If anything stood in his way of getting out of town, however, it was an expendable part of the plan.  He would have to think if there were a way to get McBain involved, and end his life.  That would take the cake.  Yes.


***

The Holidays had come and gone, and The Mannings were getting back to routine.  School was back in session, and Todd and Blair elected to have the boys stay with Addie, Starr and Dorian.  Todd said, "The odds are good, each one of you gets one."


"I'll take Ray," Starr said jokingly.  Even though he was still a toddler, he was the easiest in the bunch.


"We'll be fine," Dorian said.  "We'll do lots of fun things and get all our homework done every night."

Jack, uninterested, said, "Great."


"Timothy will still take Sam out on Jack's group meeting day this week."  Blair said.  "Sam loves that, and then we don't have to worry about Sam being on his own without Jack those days getting home from school."


"That sounds perfect," Addie said.  "I'm excited to spend time with my grandchildren.  How long will you be gone, Blair?"


She looked to her husband.  He said, "We're not sure, but it shouldn't be long.  A couple of days, maybe."

"Take however long you need," Addie said.  "I can tell this is something very important to you, Todd and to you, Blair."

Blair said, "Thank you, Momma.  Now, boys, be good for everyone.  Promise?"

Sam said, "I do."

"Yeah, sure, whatever."  Jack said.

Todd knew where Jack's mind was.  "We'll be back.  Soon, Jack."  He hugged his son.

Starr went to her father, "Dad, be careful, and  . . . don't push yourself."  She meant emotionally, but it didn't quite come off that way and she wondered if he knew what she meant.

"I'll be fine, my lifeline's going to be there."

Blair said, "We'll be okay, Starr."

But Starr noticed her mother's doubt.  It was on her face, and in her voice.  Starr hugged her and whispered, "Call us.  I'm not kidding, Mom."

"I will," she said, pulling back, and then taking Todd's arm.

He lead her outside to the limo, and opened the door for her.  She said, "Thanks."

He said, "They don't call me a prince for nothing."

He slid in next to her, and put his arm around her shoulder.  "We're off."

"We are," she said.

"I'm not going to say I'm not scared."

"I know.  I'm scared, too.  But you'll handle it."  She paused, "Badass, remember."

"Hmf.  How he sees me."

"How you are.  Todd Manning, don't you forget your roots."

"I thought you wanted me to calm down, take things slow, not do crazy shit?"

"I do."

"Okay."

"But you can be badass in here, you know."  She touched his hair on the side of his head.

"I can't shake that weird stuff from the other night."

She couldn't either, but didn't want to tell him.  She said, "We'll face it."

"You haven't either then?"

"Huh?"

"You said, 'we'll face it' which means we haven't shaken it."

"I guess, yeah."

He said, "I freaked you out.  You can bail, Blair."

"No, I'd never do that."

"You could."

"I'd never bail."

"But, you could.  Everyone would get it.  You miss your kids, you can't take the flight, you hate Chicago."

"Todd, I'm not bailing.  If you want to bail, that's the only way I ever would."

He got quiet, and looked out the window.  Stay away from the chamber, and don't go near.  It will leave you broken and you will be nothing but a shell.  She's been in there.  Speaking from experience, whatever it was, she was in there.  His mind flashed quickly through a series of images.  He heard himself suck in air audibly.  I was, too.  I was.  I was.

She turned to him.  "Todd?"

"Momma was in that chamber.  I was, too.  I remember.  Sort of."

She took his hand, and let her fingers mesh with his.  She didn't say anything, she just let him be.

He fondled her hand, looking at it.  "It's very dark, and I can't remember much.  So far, they are just small flashes.  Almost like snapshots."  Again, she did not say anything.  Instead, she just held his hand and let him take his time.  Part of her did not want to prod him or rush him.  The other part, she admitted to herself, did not want to hear more.

He said, "It's gone now, basically.  I can't see it.  I . . . was having flashes of this for a long time, and I didn't know what it was."  He closed his eyes and set his head back.

She said, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah."

She took the lead and tipped his head onto her lap, moving further down the seat.  He took her hand, with which his fingers were intertwined, and pulled it to his chest.  She used her other hand to smooth his hair.  She said, "Do you want to sleep?  You haven't slept well in a while."

"No, we'll be at the airport soon and then I'll have to wake up anyway."

"Yeah, we couldn't have that," she teased.

Within a few moments, he had fallen into slumber.  She brushed his hair with her fingers.  Please.  Don't let this be something . . . he can't handle.  Please.

Peter.  What a sick bastard.  If he were alive, I'd strangle him myself for what he did to him.  What's the plan, Blair?  What are you going to do if your husband cracks, huh, right in front of you?  Do you even have a plan?

Maybe he'll be all right.  Maybe it's not that bad.  He's been through crazy stuff, but he's been through therapy.  Ray has helped him.  Ray.  She took her phone out, and checked to make sure she still had the number.  If the worst happened, she could call Ray.  Stop.  He can do it.  He's strong.

It was quite awhile before she noticed that he had opened his eyes as she was thinking, and was looking right at her.  He said, "Stop worrying about me, Blair.  I'm all right.  I know the worst of it, and I've gotten through it."

"I know.  What makes you think I'm sitting here worried about you?"  Taking her hand back from him, she folded her arms over her chest.

He sat up.  "Nothing makes me think that, except everything."

She smiled in concession.  The limo stopped.  "We're here!  The airport.  Are we taking the jet?"

"Yep."

It wasn't long before they were in the air, looking over the clouds.  "Wow," she said, "Beautiful as ever."

"I told you, all those years back, that you would love it up here."

"I guess you were right."

"The last time we were in a plane," he said, shifting his eyes to the side at her.

"Yeah, I remember," she said leaning toward him and kissing him.

His hand when to her hair.  "It's a short flight," he reminded her.

"I know.  Just kissing you."

"We can fix that when we land, if you want to."  He looked at her, and in his eyes, she saw everything he was right then.  Everything that had passed before and everything that would probably be was looking right at her, almost through her.  He was confident, and he was beautiful.  He was the same as the man who had proposed to her, when she was pregnant with Starr, but so different at the same time.  Perhaps he was really on this "Eightfold Path" he told her about, and she was wrong for doubting him.  She feared what was coming for them, but something in his eyes at that moment told her not to.  

He would be all right.

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