Diamond in the Rough: Chapter 85

"You're sure about this?"  John asked her.  "You know Todd's going to have my head for it."

"It's for him.  I have to do it.  I'd rather be the one . . . that he hears anything else from ever again.  I appreciate you doing this."

John walked ahead of her through the gates at Statesville, where Mitch was in maximum security solitary confinement, waiting for a transfer to the federal penitentiary, pending trial.  She followed, grasping the strap of her pocketbook tightly and keeping her head up.  John lead her to a door, and she went in, sitting in the gray chair at a gray table, in a small room with gray walls.  She put her purse at her feet, and looked around.  "Well, there have been worse places than this, Blair.  Let's not get nervous, now.  John will be there."

She folded her arms and rested them on the table in front of her.  In a few minutes, she heard chains dragging on the floor and footsteps, and braced herself, taking a long breath.  The door opened and Mitch, in an orange jump suit, with his legs and arms chained, looked directly into her eyes.  "What a pleasant surprise.  The delicious Mrs. Manning."  He sat across from her, his hands between his legs.  John stood right behind him, in arm's reach.

"You have to know why I am here."

"I didn't realize my magnetism still had it's strength."  He said.

"I want to . . . ask you something.  I know it's a long shot.  I know you hate my husband.  I know all of that."

"So?"

"I'm asking you, please, to agree to answer two questions I have.  Nothing more."

"No, and if that's all, you can take me back to my cell, Lieutenant."

"Wait, please, please, Mitch."

He didn't move.

"Why not just answer my questions?  What exact difference would it make?"  She wept.  "There's nothing that will ever be taken away from what's been done to him.  It's not going to change things, or soothe him, or take away what was done to him as a child.  Are you that much of a monster that you don't realize what you let happen to him?"

Mitch did not speak for a moment.  "You need to apologize for shooting me."

She felt bile rise in her throat.  "I apologize for shooting you.  I felt I had to.  I couldn't lose Todd."

"Todd," he sneered.  "I don't accept your apology and I won't be answering your questions."

"Why?  How can it possibly hurt you?  You have nothing more to lose.  Think of what you've done, and achieved where he is concerned.  Think of what you did to his mother?"

Mitch snapped, "I didn't do anything of the kind to his mother.  Nothing that happened was what I intended.  In fact, there are things you don't know, and you won't know."

She said, "I'm interested.  I'm listening.  Maybe your side of it . . . or maybe you just want everyone, including Bitsy, to think that you did all this to her."

"She's alive.  Hmf."  She could tell he was minimizing his reaction to the news.

"She's alive.  She's confused.  You could help her know the truth."

"Why should I care?"

"I don't know.  Why did you care enough to snap at me just now, and correct me?"

"I didn't do those things to her.  I'm not the cause.  I looked the other way for years, but that's not how it went.  Not really.  But it's not for you, or that murderous psycho you're married to to find out."

"I can get you a piece of the diamond."

He stopped.  "You're lying."

"I can."  She opened her purse.  She had taken a link from the necklace.  "I have it here," she brought it out, and showed him.  "It's not the whole thing, but if it's got power, then it has power."

"What good would that power do me, in here, for the rest of my life, or being executed?  Either way, it means nothing to me.  If I am not free.  Can you get me my freedom?"

She put it back into her purse, and stood, "No, I can't."  She looked at John, and headed toward him.  Suprisingly, Mitch said, "Bitsy, she's alive?  You've seen her?"

"Yes.  I have.  She's drawn you."

"Drawn?"

Blair was still standing.  "Yes, she's an artist."

"Todd, that mess of a human being you claim to be in love with.  What did he mean?"

She turned and crossed back in front of him.  "What?"

"What did he mean about her losing the ability to talk?"

She sat down, slowly and deliberately.  "You are asking me a question?"

"You can choose to answer.  If you answer one of mine, I will answer one of yours."

"All right," she said.  He seemed flatter, somehow less strong.  

He continued, "She can't speak?"

"She can't.  She was beaten so badly that she had brain damage.  At least that is what we think."

He stopped and looked to his hands for a minute.  "You're not going to likely understand anything else I say, and if you are not willing to try, you may as well leave now.  The answer to your question of how she lost her ability to speak is that I don't know.  Well, I didn't.  But, now, I just might."

"Which means?"

"Peter Manning, I think.  There was a time when Bitsy was moved to my compound to be cared for after he raped and beat her.  He didn't want to get in trouble for it, and since I'd been covering for him for years, he asked, I accepted.  She came to stay there, but I wouldn't let her bring Todd.  She recovered there with my help.  That's where she resided for a long time.  Alone, with us, at my church with my followers."

"She lived there, I remember hearing that."  She did not mention Mr. Falco or what he had told them.  And then she remembered that Falco did know who gave her the beating that led to brain damage, and not even supposition, because Todd had chosen to leave instead of hear.  "What do you think happened?"

"Manning came there, to visit her.  Said he wanted to patch things up with her.  Not positive of the date.  He hadn't seen her in a long time.  It was shortly after she saw Todd at the cabin."

For a moment, Blair remembered Todd, looking through Peter's notes, need to talk to Bitsy about making eyes.  She looked up in realization.  "Oh my God, you were in love with her, weren't you?"

***

Todd came down the stairs with heavy feet.  "Sister!  Timothy!  Are you down here?  Where's Blair?"

Timothy was in the kitchen having coffee.  "Lad, what in the world . . .?"

"She's gone.  Left me a note."

"She'll be back, Son."

"Still.  I want Blair!"

"We know, Lad, we know."

"Can I have some of that?"  he said, pointing to Timothy's breakfast muffin.

"Have the whole thing, boy, and calm yourself.  She's just out doing errands.  Goodness."

He wolfed the muffin and poured himself coffee.  "Good morning," Sister Rebecca Katherine said.  She was not in her habit.

"Good morning.  You're normal."  Todd said.

"And y'ar not.  What are ya bellowing about at this early hour?"

"Blair's gone.  Out doing errands, I guess."

"Ah, and ya miss her already."

"Something like that."  He drank his coffee and read the morning edition of The Sun.  "He's headed for the death penalty," he said, "killed two people while escaping to add to his crimes."

"That was his last chance at freedom.  He pulled out all the stops," Timothy said.

"Guess."  Todd said.  "Looks like he might have killed his cellmate too, with bugs."

"Let's not have talk about that Mitch Laurence person at breakfast, it's more than I can take."  The nun said, pouring herself a cup of coffee.  "Instead, let's talk about someone else."

Todd was now chewing on toast.  "Who?"

"Let's talk about y'ar mother, Todd."

He stopped chewing, looked down, folded the paper and said, softly, "Not the best topic, Sister."

"It could be, Laddy.  She responded to me.  Just the other day."

He looked up.  "She what?"

"She responded."

"She looked at you?"

"She looked at me.  In fact, she pushed me at first," she smiled and giggled a bit.  "Then, she wrote me. She wanted me to bring her something."

"What did she want?"

"She wanted ya, Dear Heart."

***

"We're not talking about that," Mitch said.  "I answered your question.  That's all."

"But you were.  You don't want to say so.  She's alive, I've seen her, I've touched her.  She's an artist, she's confused but she knew her son.  She drew you.  She was very confused, she thinks you may have done these things to her, or Peter.  She doesn't know.  And I can tell her.  If you tell me everything, I can tell her.  Then, she'll know the truth of how it happened.  You loved her.  You don't want to say it, but you did."

He was silent.  She just stared across at him.  She quietly looked up.  "You loved her."

"Where has she been?"  his voice was softer.

"Is this another question?"

"It is."

"Which means then . . ."

"Yes, yes fine."

"She was in an institution for years.  She doesn't know what happened.  She calls it 'the time of black.'  She thought you might have done it to her, but she was not sure.  Someone may have told her that you were the one.  She called you . . ."

"What?"

"No.  That will be another question."

John, who had been standing by watching, smirked at Blair's boldness.

She continued, "She thought you may have done it to her, yes.  She's very confused and doesn't remember everything.  It's hazy.  My turn."

He didn't look up for a moment.

She repeated, "My turn."

"What."

"What did he do to Todd?"

"You know the answer to that.  You're a glutton for punishment if you expect to hear anything different."

"What did he do to him?"

"What does he remember?"

"That's a question."

"You already know that he raped him, beat him.  Just like he did to her.  Put them in that damn room.  His 'den,' he called it.  It was just like any other thing someone would do.  Play catch, go to the movies.  It was his entertainment."

She lowered her head, and John said, "You knew."

"I chose to ignore the signs.  Did I see?  No.  I found out, later, from her.  I kept her safe.  What did she call me?"  Mitch asked.

Blair, who was quietly weeping, looked up and said, "The Evil One."

He fixed his jaw.  "She's . . . she doesn't remember."

"She doesn't.  If you mean your 'affair,' or any fond feelings, then no, she doesn't.  You ready to just talk to me, now, and stop this game?"

His fist was at his lower lip.  "Fine.  I'm ready."

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