Chasing the Monsters: 22

"We're here," he said, looking out into the airport parking area through a wall of tall windows.

She was next to him, their hands clasped at their sides.  She said, "We are."  She couldn't help but look at him, as his hazel eyes transfixed themselves on the view outside the window.  

He swallowed; she saw it.  He said, "I hate this place."

"I know," she said, moving her other hand to touch his arm right above where he held her hand, tightly.  "We can go home."

"I  . . . know, I know we can.  I just . . . Pamela wants to talk to me.  I said I would."

She nodded, and turned away from him, also looking at the view.  "You don't owe her anything, Todd.  You're not Peter."

He didn't answer.  Instead, he turned to her, "Let's figure out where we get our car."  He glanced around him, "I think it's outside the third set of doors over there."

"Okay."  She stared straight ahead as he did.  She waited.

He took in a large breath and said, "How could I not remember all of it."

She kept looking ahead, and said, "Who'd want to?  It was like anything else.  Survival."  She could feel him turn toward her, sharply, and she looked at his face.  She said, "You were surviving.  You remembered when you were ready.  That's what people do."  She paused.  "And you know that."

He shrugged, and a weak, boyish smile formed on his face.  "You're so pretty."

She knew where his heart was, regardless of his compliment of distraction.  She said, "It's all right, Todd.  I'm right here.  And I'm not going anywhere.  And," she said, flipping her hair a little, "thanks."

He nodded slightly, and put his second hand out to her.  "Should we go get that limousine?  I forgot to mention it's a pink Hummer.  That's all they had left."

She laughed, holding both his hands, and then pulling them to wrap his arms around her in the middle of the airport waiting area.  He obliged her, awkwardly, and looked into her eyes, aware of the tens of people around them.  She said, "Pink it is.  Everything is okay with me, Mr. Manning, if it's with you."

Never one to be often publicly affectionate, he leaned in, gently, and took her top lip in his, kissing her softly.

She, in her surprise, said, "What was that for?"

"Just because you're pretty," he said.  They both turned to go toward the doors, "and you're mine.  Thanks for reminding me of both of those things.  Every day.  Makes it all easier."

***

"You're a real cowboy?"  Sam asked with fascination.

"I suppose, maybe I am," Cord said.

"Where's your hat?"

"They don't wear those, Squirt, unless they're out in the sun or something,"  Jack said, looking up momentarily from his textfest with Jenna.

"Jack's right, most of the time.  My grandfather used to wear his around, though.  He'd spend a lot of money on just one hat."  Cord said, catching Tina's eye out of the corner of his.

Sam crinkled up his face, in disbelief.  "Like how much?"

"Like once, he spent over five hundred dollars on one."

"Wow!  That's a lot for a hat.  Did he have a lot of money, like my Dad?"

"Yeah, I suppose he did."

"Where is he?"

"Who?"

"Your grandfather?"

"He passed on, Sam."

Sam looked down to his hands.  He said, "Mine, too.  Well, kind of."

"Runty, come on, don't start that,"  Jack said.

"Wait, Jack," Cord said, "Sam, what did you mean?"

"I don't know who my biological grandfather is.  But, Dad's father he had growing up, he died.  Grandma Bitsy shot him to save Mom, Dad and Ray."

Raymond Thomas Manning looked up from his cars, as if recognizing what was said, but said nothing.  He just looked at them all, with a curious innocent expression, and Jack said, "Come here, Ray, let's go outside and play for a while." The teen picked Ray up under the arms, and took him onto the veranda in the back of Llanfair.

"Really, she did?"  Cord asked, realizing the child needed to talk.

Sam nodded.  "Mom and Dad don't really like when I talk about it.  Anyway, Peter, that's the guy, he's not really my grandfather, but he is dead, like yours.  My other grandfather, Grandpa Timothy, he's really nice.  He adopted Dad and us.  I was adopted too, and so was  Dad, and Mom doesn't know who her Dad really is.  But my Dad said Peter's not our family and I don't have to worry about being like him."

Cord looked at Tina, who was watching with a concerned expression.  Everything about Sam brought out the pity in anyone listening, as well as seeing his reactions to his own words.  

"I'd say your Dad is a really wise man," Cord said.  "Even if he was your family, you still wouldn't have to worry about being like him."

"Why not?"

"Just because it doesn't work that way.  You're your own man.  Look at your father now.  He's nothing like Peter, is he?"

"No.  He's not."

"See?  People make their own choices."

"But I want to be like my Dad.  He's my hero, for real."

Cord nodded.  "That's good."

"Mom said that the good thing about Dad is that even though he made bad mistakes, he is sorry, he paid for them and made up for them, lots of times over."

Cord swallowed.  He could hear Blair saying those very words.  The thing was, she wasn't wrong.  At least not anymore.  He said, "Yep, he has."

"Once, a bear came when we were in the woods.  And Dad, he pushed us behind him, like  with his hand, and then he told us to run when the mother bear noticed us and made her chase him away from us.  He could have died, but he didn't care because he wanted us alive."

"Did he really do all that?"  Tina asked.

"Yep.  And, another time, I was just a little kid, and I thought the snowpile was going to be soft and fluffy like a cloud, and I jumped off the balcony and landed in the snowpile and I wasn't breathing good.  Dad dug through the ice to get me.  His hands were all cut up and bleeding.  That's why I don't like him to ever go away from us."  He looked down at his hands again.

Tina's eyes welled with tears.  Cord looked at her momentarily, and then said, "He did all that, huh?"

Sam nodded.  "Mom said Dad wouldn't quit until he got me out.  My dog helped, too, but he's dead now.  Peter killed him."

Cord wanted to change the subject for the child's sake, so he said, "Sam, I tell you what.  Maybe you can finish these stories about your Dad later on, and right now, we can go outside with Jack and Ray and toss the ball around.  What do you think?"

"Yeah, that's okay.  I don't have that many more big stories, only small ones.  But the small ones are better.  Dad's really a hero, I think.  He helped Mom have Jewel, right in our house.  And like when he adopted me and set up a bunch of bouncy houses in the yard and had a big party and married Mom again.  And adopted me so I don't have to go with my biological father ever again.  All that was great."

Cord smiled, standing up.  "That does sound great.  Wow.  What bouncy house was it?"

Sam stood up, too, and slipped his hand in Cord's.  "A Spiderman's Cave one, and a big giant Spiderman head with those balls in it that you can hide and play in.  And he had a band, and everything.  That was the best day of my whole life."

"Sounds it.  Aunt Tina, you coming?"

"Yeah, I'm just getting little Jewel here a jacket.  She'll have to go out there, too."  She finished and put the baby into the carrier.  All of them went outside to the terrace, and saw that Jack was being chased around the yard by Little Ray.

***

They pulled up in front of Jack Ribsky's PI office in the pink Hummer Limo, and as they disembarked, Todd said, "God, I have to trade this in.  How could they not have a different one yet?"

"We could have just gotten a regular rental car, Todd.  And besides, this isn't that bad."

"I guess."

They walked up the pathway to the door, hand in hand.  She was determined, their entire visit, to be what he needed her to be and follow his lead.  His reaction to landing in Chicago had solidified that fact in her mind.  She followed him toward the door, and they entered the building.  It was a modest office building, with a barely-there small foyer that was two steps from the door to the actual office.  Todd pushed the door open, and they went inside.  They both stood in a small office area, with a woman at a desk.  To say the room was minimal in decor would be underestimating.  Todd said, "Hello, we have an appointment to see Mr. Ribsky."

"Certainly, I'll let him know you arrived."  She disappeared into a small door.

Todd and Blair sat in the only two chairs in the front office.  Their hands were still interwoven.  He placed them on his knee.  She said, "It's tiny."

"Gets the job done, I assume."

"You okay?"

"Sure, I'm okay, what would make you think I'm not?  The fact that we're in Peter Manning's hometown?"

She rested her chin in its customary place on his shoulder.  "I miss the kids."

"Me, too," he said.  "That night in the tent was fun, wasn't it?"  He looked at her out of the side of his eyes.

"Yes, it was.  We'll be back to them in no time."

"Right," he said, and then the door opened.  

Ribsky walked into the center of the small room, and extended his hand. Todd rose, and Blair did as well, still holding his other hand.  "Todd," he said, shaking his hand, "I hope I'll be able to help."

He grasped the man's hand firmly.  "Jack, I'm sure you will.  This is my wife, Blair."

Ribsky turned to her, and smiled, and extended a hand to her as well.  She let go of Todd's and shook it.  "Pleased to meet you, formally," she said.  "I think we saw each other at the hospital, the last time we were here."

"Yes, I think we may have.  Come into my office," he said, and walked away.

The three of them stood in a small but neat area, not decorated, but having basic essentials:  a window, with stacks of folders and papers on the ledge; a desk with a lamp and piles of files; two chairs facing the desk; and a cabinet in the corner where more files were stored.  On the wall were pictures.  Jack and his wife, Pamela.  A young family, a husband, a wife and three children, where the husband looked like Jack around the eyes. Separate photos of each of the children in the family shot were framed in with gold frames, matching each other.  A picture of Jack, in his police attire, was also in the collection.  Blair took notice of all of them and heard Todd say, "I want to thank you for agreeing to meet with us here, first."

"Of course.  Why not?  I hold no malice toward you, Todd.  You have to realize that by now.  Nothing your father did is your responsibility."

"It's easy to forget that sometimes."

"Well, you have to.  Trust me.  In this business, I've seen enough fallout from cases to know the answers.  And you're not the cause of your father's sickness, or his actions."

Todd gulped, and reached for Blair's hand again, and she took it and held it on her lap, this time.  He said, "Thank you."

"So, where do we start?"  Jack cut to the chase.

"I guess the trunk.  You said you towed it here."

"All right, sure."

Todd said, "Is it brown, with pretend travel stickers?"

"Yes," he said, getting up and going to a closet across the room.  "That sounds right."

"Okay."  

Blair felt a change in Todd's skin at the palm of his hand.  She kept steadfast, and held his hand gently, running her fingers over his knuckles with her other one.

"You were a cop, right?  In Chicago?"  Todd said, and Blair wondered why he was asking.

"Yep, for a long time.  Finally got sense and retired.  I worked for the force for almost 30 years.  Most guys go a twenty-five."

"So, you were working for the city when . . . when I was like seventeen or eighteen?"

"I worked thirty years, Todd.  That would put me starting when you were about 16, right?"

"Sounds right, yeah."

"Why did you ask?"

Blair said, "I think he, he was wondering if you were here during a certain time."

Ribsky came back to the desk with a very large trunk, and it slammed onto the desk loudly.  "If you're asking what I know about your past first-hand, I can tell you it's not very much, and most of it is from last year."

"So you know?"  Todd asked.

"I read.  Small things I'd heard.  You were fourteen, you were arrested for attempted murder.  Your family was able to provide legal counsel that got you freed."

Blair saw her husband swallow and felt his hand go dead in hers, clammy and cool.  "Maybe we should just deal with the trunk," she said, before realizing that it was that very item that Todd was staring down and entranced with.

Todd said, "I didn't think I'd ever see this again.  He took it from me, and said he burned it, after we got home from the legal proceedings that day."

"One step at a time, Todd.  If you can't open it right now, we'll bring it out to your limo, and you can transfer it to Timothy's car later, and get it home to Llanview."  Ribsky said.

"I . . . " Todd started, then, "don't want to open it right now.  I'd rather talk about something else,"  Todd grimaced a little.  "Your past, with the CPD.  No offense intended, but, this police department is the same one that let my abuse, and my mother's, slip by undealt with for years, and had Mitch Laurence in town selling salvation and trying to knock up innocent women.  The same force that, 9 months ago, ignored calls from neighbors that there was screaming coming from my father's house.  The same force that let Peter Manning slip through their fingers when he came into town and went back to his old home in broad daylight, with an APB on him from Llanview.  And some of those same policemen are likely still around, if not in charge of the whole thing.  You'll have to excuse me if I doubt them."

Blair looked at Todd, surprised.  She saw Jack swallow.  He said, "I respect that.  I don't necessarily agree, but I respect it.  It's a very busy city, Chicago.  There are more calls than hours in the day.  Demanding.  Why do you think I got out when I did?  Could have worked at least seven or eight more years.  Too much crime and too little time."

"We understand," Blair said, squeezing Todd's hand gently.  To her surprise, he pulled it free.  

"So, can you tell me anything about that time?  Like who were the cops that did show up the night when I was fourteen, or anything else you can tell me?  Anything at all?  I mean, shouldn't the cops have known," his voice caught.  He composed himself, and said,  "Shouldn't they have known what they were dealing with when they saw me that night?  Trained personnel, shouldn't they have recognized an abused kid?"

Blair was beside herself.  Ribsky put down the files he was straightening.  "Todd, let's get this out of the way, okay?  I want you to know that I wasn't involved in your case or this jurisdiction when you were a child.  You were already sixteen and out of the system by the time I started as a 25 year-old rookie.  I think that had to be said, because something like that never would have gone unnoticed by me if I were involved."

Todd did appear reddish, but Blair knew he was not likely embarrassed, and said, "Thank you," rising out of his chair.  He put his hand out, and Ribsky took it.  Blair had her hand on Todd's shoulder, lightly, and then he took it and held it, as they started to make their way out.

Ribsky said, "Your wife.  She's your best friend, huh?"

"Yeah, she is.  She's just about my best everything."

"Mine is, too.  Take care of her, Todd."

"He does," Blair said, smiling back at the man.

"Todd, the trunk," Ribsky said.

Todd went to the desk, and picked up the trunk.  By his stride and his face, Blair could tell that her man was determined to get them out of the office and to their next destination, and then, out of Chicago, Illinois, and hopefully, for good.  She followed him to the limo, parked at the curb.

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