Failings of the Fathers: 76

"Thanks, Ole Buddy, for coming to get me.  Glad I got to see Starr before I headed home," Shaun said.  He sounded groggy but seemed no worse for the wear.

"It's what I do, Bud.  Wish I could have done more," Perzno said.

"Starr was quiet, on purpose, so the kids wouldn't be as scared.  No one had time, really." 

"I still can't forget that," Perzno said.  "Can't forget what I saw when I came off the roof."

"I can't forget her face.  I helped raise that girl, when her father was away.  Love those kids like they were my own."

"It's not your fault, so don't start that.  You were drugged.  They found you near the door.  You were trying to get to the kids."

"A needle in my foot, I can remember that much.  I knew, after I realized what the pinch was, that the kids were in trouble.  I just couldn't make it to them."  Shaun seemed forlorn.  He was in a wheelchair and would be for a while.  

"What about the kid?  The littlest one?"  Perzno asked.

"He's still missing.  His parents went to go and get him.  If I know Todd, he'll make it happen, whatever it takes."

"Was this about money?  Manning's got more than Gates."

"More than Gates?  Isn't the expression, 'More than God?'"

"I don't use that one.  God doesn't have money, and I don't think He'd like it."  For a minute, the copterman went silent.  Then Perzno said, "God was with those kids that day.  The baby wasn't even touched."

"Thank Todd's mother for that.  She made that basket.  The baby probably was sleeping and went unnoticed."

"That's The Man Upstairs' doing,"  Perzno said.  "I've learned a lot in my life, and one of those things is that you can't underestimate the power of people, love or God."

"Amen.  Sounds right to me."

"You feeling okay?"

"I feel fine.  A little tired, out of it, maybe.  When I get home, I plan to get that house as close to normal as I can for them, if you'll help me."  Shaun said this as Perzno shot him a glance of disbelief.  "The Mannings will be back, and with their son, you can bet on that."

***

A while later, Blair was in the waiting room, with an ice pack on her lip and cheek.  She'd insisted on Todd being taken care of, but refused any attention herself until she knew he was fine.

She looked up to see John, and the stranger, aside Bitsy on a gurney.  She got up and ran to her mother-in-law, and looked into her face.  She recognized the look immediately.  "She's gone.  Inside herself, to her safe place.  She . . . saved her son."

John knew what Blair meant, right then, and nodded stoically. She said, "Momma, it's okay.  You rest, and then when you're ready, you come back to us."

The moveable bed was rolled away, and she looked after it.  Ribsky went off to make a call, and Blair said, "What do you want to know, John?  She shot him.  She shot him through the head, and saved me, Todd and our son by doing it."

"I wasn't doubting that, Blair."

"Why not?" she looked at him, and pain was in her eyes.  "Is it because you saw the room, and figured out what he'd done to them all those years?"

"I didn't need to see it, but, yeah, that's part of it."

"I am glad she shot him.  He . . . made Todd put his gun down, on the ground, while he held one to my baby boy's little chest."  For a moment, she'd forgotten where Ray was, until she remembered she'd made Timothy take him to the cafeteria and get him a snack.  "He would have killed us all. or worse."

"Likely.  The local authorities have taken over.  Ribsky and I came here with her.  Thought it would be better."

"Can you imagine that John?  Someone holding a gun against Liam's little heart?"  she said.

"No, Blair, I really can't.  I wouldn't even want to."

"Who is that guy?" Blair asked, nodding toward Ribsky.  "He's been hovering."

"He's an ex-cop, married to Connie Bensonhurst's sister.  Just showed up out of concern."

She gulped.  "The man Todd met.  Connie, she's dead, John.  She was dead when we got there."

John just looked at Blair, expressionless.  "Upstairs?"

"Yes."

"Do you know how?"

"She looked . . .:" she closed her eyes for a moment, "beaten to death."

"He turned on her.  Possibly, she was trying to protect your son.  That's what I'd guess."

Blair sighed out, and it was ragged with emotion.  "He was checked out.  The doctors said nothing was wrong with him.  He wasn't . . . physically hurt," her voice cracked.

"Well, that's something, huh?  The little guy is going to be like new, soon."

"He's seen so much," John could see her facade of strength crumbling.  "He might never be the same.  He was there when Todd and Peter were shot.  And who knows what Peter . . ." she sobbed.  "He can't even tell us what Peter did.  He's too little."

John instinctively wrapped his arms around Blair and held her.  She cried into her hands against his shoulder.  

They were interrupted by a voice.  "Hey, unhand my woman, McBatman." Todd said.  When they both looked at him, he was standing, with his arm in a sling, and a broad smile across his face. 

John let go, and Blair went to him, his free arm pulling her close, and he winced, slightly.  He smirked at John, and then, teasingly said, "Don't be making time with my wife, McBain.  Not a cop-ly thing to do."

"Got it," John said, and turned to find Ribsky.

Blair said, "You're all right," into his eyes.

"Yep.  Amazing what some blood and a few stitches and band aids can do."

"Stop, it's worse than that."

"No, not really.  How's my boy?"

"He's fine.  The doctors said he's okay."

"Peter didn't touch him?"

"No.  No physical injuries."

Todd knew what it meant.  His son had no visible, physical wounds.  But what kind of emotional damage had been done to his little boy?  He swallowed, and said, "Well, he'll see his namesake."

"He's the namesake, and I agree."

"Okay," he said with finality, and she let him hold her with his good arm, and she closed her eyes.  When she pulled back, she winced again as her face touched against his sling.  He said, "Hey, you need attention for that.  I wanted to pull his head off his body when he hit you.  The only thing holding me back was Little Ray.  We just had to find him."

"I know.  You did everything right, Todd.  I was so proud to be your wife today.  Again."

"Why, you're not proud other days?  Okay, I see how it is."

She smiled, "I'm proud every day.  I was more proud today."

"Do I remember that Ribsky guy?  Was he there, or was I seeing things?"

"He was there.  He's here, too, over there, I think.  Making calls."

"Does he know?"

"I guess.  John might have gone to tell him more.  I don't know."

"Maybe," Todd said.  "Where's my father and my kid?"

"In the cafeteria.  A Manning tradition: eating."

"I want to see him, Blair.  I want to hold him, and let him know I'm okay.  He's my boy."

"I know.  I know you do.  They'll be back in a few minutes.  You could always call Timothy on your cell?"

"Let's get you checked out first, by a doctor?  Then we can all go home, if things are all right."

"Okay," she finally agreed.

"Okay," he said, relieved she was safe and warm, against him.

***

Bitsy was with a doctor who had completed her evaluation, and had repaired her forehead with a butterfly bandage.  He said, "She'll need to be watched.  Just to ascertain if there is a concussion here.  I can't ask her any questions, as you can see, she's catatonic."

The nurse said, "All right, Doctor, I can let the policemen know."

John stepped into the cubicle.  "That won't be necessary, I heard everything."  He flashed his badge.  "I'll be taking custody of Mrs. Manning."

Bitsy did not respond.  She stared straight ahead.  John said, "Bitsy, I know it's hard right now, but things will be all right.  Todd is fine, and Blair and Ray are, too.  You're going back to Mountainview for a while."

She didn't move or acknowledge him.  She was lost in her own world.

He saw the curtain open, and Todd and Blair stepped in.  Todd said, "Momma?  You okay?"

She didn't respond.  He looked at Blair.  "She's gone."

"I know, My Love.  I think she thought you had died."

"I'm not dead, Momma, okay?"  He said, touching her arm.  "I'm all right, thanks to you."

She didn't look at him, and he walked out of the area, pushing the curtains aside as he went.  

Blair said, "Momma, we love you," and followed him.

As he made his way into the sitting area, he stopped a doctor.  "Hey, check out my wife, will you?  She was hit with a large backhand.  I don't like the way her lip looks.  Can you check her out?"

"Just have her go into the third cubicle and wait, someone will be right with her."

He put his hand out, "There you go.  Get going.  I want us home by a decent hour so we can regroup with the kids.  Sam's gotta be a total mess right now."

She obeyed him after a light kiss on the unmarred side of her lips.  

***

Ribsky put a hand on his hip, and shook his head.  "She was his girlfriend, wasn't she?  At least, signs are pointing that way.  She told us he was dead.  Maybe she didn't know.  Maybe she didn't realize that he was still living."

"Maybe," John said, but he was doubtful.  Cell phone records would answer everything.  He'd pass the info to the local police in the morning.  "it's possible she knew nothing."

"Who I am kidding?  She had to know.  Her reaction to Manning when he came to us . . . when I think of it now, I'm sure she knew.  She was cold.  She . . . denied everything.  The man was a sick . . . a monster."

"I'm sorry," John said.

"It's going to hurt Pamela."

"Her sister?'

"Yeah, my wife.  It's going to ruin her.  She's a social worker.  She sees abused kids every day.  It won't be easy for her."

"I don't know what to say."

"There's nothing to say.  Manning was not lying to us.  He was brutalized by that man.  I saw it all over him when he visited.  It's sick."

"That's the right word for it."

"That room.  I've been a cop a while.  I don't think I ever saw something like that.  Ever."

"I haven't either, but there's always a first time," John said.  "Comes with our territory."

"Well, it had better be my last.  The guy, Todd?  He must have had some life."

"That's an understatement.  Let's go get off our feet for a few minutes.  Then, we can finish questioning Blair."  John said.

When they rounded the corner, Todd was sitting in the waiting area, his arm in the sling, his head tilted back.  His eyes were closed, and as they approached, careful not to wake him, he spoke.  "I'm not sleeping.  Just have a mother of a headache."

He opened his eyes and John and Ribsky were standing, looking down at him.  John said, "Manning.  Glad your son is all right."

"Me too.  What's up?  Hey, Ribsky, I'm . . . sorry about Connie."

"I'm sorry, too.  She . . . seemed to be helping out your father."

"I don't call him that anymore.  He never was a father to me.  He's not my father now.  My father's in the cafeteria with my little boy, feeding him pancakes, likely."

"You've changed, Todd.  Since I met you.  A great deal."  John said.

"I guess.  Don't we all change, every day?"  Todd answered.  "That's what my therapist says."

John nodded, and sauntered off in response to a phone call on his cell.  Ribsky sat beside Todd.  "So, you were serious, and you weren't lying."

"Yep, and nope."

"I'm sorry for any pain that my sister-in-law helped cause."

"Don't apologize.  You're not her.  She was her own person.  Made her own decisions."

"Is your son . . . okay?"

Todd looked at the man, and studied his face a moment.  In his eyes, Todd thought he saw fear for what could have been done to his boy.  He saw that house.  He knows.  He knows the truth.  "He's great, it seems.  He's got no physical injuries, and we have a therapist who can help him with the trauma.  It won't go unattended.  He'll have the help he needs.  Maybe if I . . . well, anyway, he's going to be okay."

"You were going to say, 'maybe if I were given help when I was his age,' right?"

"Maybe."  Todd folded his arms.  He turned away and stared straight ahead.

Ribsky thought that was a sign that Todd was closing down, but he continued anyway.  "You'd be right, if you were thinking that.  Dead on.  If the system didn't fail you, years back.  If your situation was under control by a person strong enough to handle it.  If you did this, if your mother did that.  Truth is, Todd, it's all ifs.  There's something today that's not an 'if,' and that is that your family is safe, putting things back together.  You're done with the likes of Peter Manning.  Your mother, well, I don't know much there, but she has finally got to have some peace.  Your wife has you and her son back.  It's over."

Todd shot a quick glance at the man.  Todd didn't respond, but he made eye contact again.

"Over.  I don't know everything that has gone on in your life, but just being in that cellar for fifteen minutes told me everything I needed to know.  It's over, and there's no looking back for you. I can still remember the day you came to my home, and looked for answers.  I'd dare say, you've made it and gotten them.  Your boys are safe, your journey with this over.  Make sure it stays that way."

Todd's eyes were brimming, and he fought not to give in to the emotion.

The man went on.  "Like I said that day, you have to move on.  That's what being a father is about.  And you know that, because you're a good one.  From what I can see, you're a very good father who did everything he had to for that little boy.  It's behind you, and see that it stays there," he said, getting up and walking off.  

Todd watched as the man went out the doors of the emergency room, signaled by a whoosh of electronics and then a sliding close of the exit.

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