Chasing the Monsters: 27

Timothy came to the door, but it had gotten late and he was already in his pajamas. 

Blair said, "Dad, I won't keep you long."

"Come in, Bridgette," he offered.

She stood close to the door and let it close behind her.  "We're leaving.  Tonight."

"My goodness, Dear, what happened?"

She said, "I have to get him out of here, now."

"Oh, this has proved too much for him, eh?"

"There have been some developments, and it's not healthy for him to be here anymore."

"Ya found him at that horrid place, didn't ya?"

She held back tears.  "Yes, I found him at that place."

"Is he all right?  Can I help?"

"I'm sure he'd love to see you, but I had to tell you first, that he's just . . . he's hurting, inside, that's all."  She said, "Dad, he . . ." and broke into tears.

He rubbed her shoulders, and said, "There now, what is it?  What can I do?"

"Nothing right now but be there.  He remembers making calls to the police, and them ignoring his calls for help.  That's why he wants revenge, and he's . . . afraid of what he might do."  She brushed a tear from her own cheek.

"Dear Jesus.  What kind of law enforcement official can do that to a child?"

"At any rate," she said, pulling herself together, "I have to get him home.  He just can't be here.  He's a mess, and he needs his children.  He needs to be away from here."

"Of course.  Don't ya worry about me, Lass.  Get him where he's feeling right, I'll worry about the rest.  I'll file proxy papers for the court."

"He still wants to see Pamela.  I'm afraid for him, but he wants to."

"This has to be this way, then.  For his sake.  But, I do want to see him, first."

"Of course, come now, if you want."  She headed back to their penthouse.

He took his key, and trudged over to the elevator, riding it to the top floor.  Getting out, he followed the light scent of Blair's perfume and the small holes from her shoes that were just disappearing from the lush carpet.  He knocked, and she opened the door.  He said, "I just followed ya."

"He's in the bedroom, getting ready.  He's a little drunk, but he's all right."

"Are ya all packed?  Can I help in some way?"

"No, we're just about done."

His eye caught a broken heap of machinery on the floor.  "And that?"

"That was a loaner from the hotel.  He's already replaced it and then some."

"He's struggling.  He wants us to believe he's over it, that it's all behind.  He wants to believe it himself.  I was foolish to think it would be that easy."

"And me."

"What can I do?"

"I don't know.  Can you get police records?  Find the answers for him?"

"Not sure, I'm not an officer of the court here.  What about that Ribsky fellow?  I could go and explain it all to him, perhaps he can help?"

"That might work, he did say to call him if we needed him.  Maybe we can talk about this later?  But first things first.  We've got to get to Pamela and out of here."

"All right."

"Hey, Dad," Todd said as he walked out of the bathroom.  He was dressed but still slightly damp from the shower and Blair found him as beautiful as ever, with his hair slicked back with water.  He smiled, awkwardly, "we're going home, I guess." 

"I know, and it's best."  He stood up, his baggy pajamas and old-man slippers making a comical figure.  "Come here, Son."

Todd hesitated a moment, and then walked over to him.  The older man took Todd's shoulders, and gripped them.  "Are ya all right?"

"I'm as good as can be expected.  And nothing more," Todd said, looking to the floor.

"Come here then, and let me hug ya."

Todd stepped toward him gingerly, but the older man pulled him close, hugging him and patting his upper back with a loud slap.  As they separated, Timothy said, "I love ya."

Todd couldn't speak, and Blair knowingly said, "He loves you, too."

"Y'ave been through something harrowing tonight.  Ya shouldn't have to talk if ya don't want to.  Let that lovely lady there take care of ya.  She wants to fill y'ar every need, and she will.  She told me so herself," he winked.

Todd weakly smiled, but he felt sick.  He'd drank too much Scotch, and mixed with the upheaval of emotions, he felt he might become ill.  Timothy could see his coloring fading, and said, "Sit with me, a minute," and they both sat down.  He said, "So, ya got a touch of the Thor in ya, eh?"

"I don't know, do I?"

"He was the Celtic deity of, among other things, revenge."

"Then, he's my pal."

"I see.  It's normal to want to do that, Todd.  I would.  In fact, when I think of it, I want to make someone suffer the way you and your Mam did."

Todd swallowed, looking down.  "I can't stop it.  The urge to find them and hurt them, I can't help it.  It's there, all the time."

"Ya need to get home.  Be with y'ar children, and y'ar wife, and it will fade, or at least change form.  Remembering, being here, and confirming that memory has been a lot for ya, and y'ar raw."

"When haven't I been?"

He paused, and put his hand on Todd's shoulder.  "I don't know the answer to that, Son.  But give it time.  Y'ar wife is right to get ya away from here.  At least for now, if not for always."

"I know she is," he sniffed, and looked into his father's face.

"And this Thor, the amazing thing is he's the diety of revenge, but also of trust.  Isn't that a strange thing, ay?"

Todd smiled, broader this time.  "Yes.  That's a strange thing."

"Trust y'ar woman, and y'arself.  Not in that order necessarily.  Both know ya, and she knows y'ar heart."

"Okay," he said, sighing.

"Goodbye, for now, Son," Timothy said, hugging Todd again.  He'd never been one for touchy-feely people, but with his father, he seemed to be able to make an exception.  For a split moment, hardly noticeable to anyone else, he clung to Timothy and rested there, quietly.  

Then he pulled back and said, "I love you, too, Old Man."

Timothy got up and kissed Blair's cheek, and whispered, "He's all right, Lass, he has ya," and walked out.

Blair looked at her husband, and said, "Are you ready to go?"

He was looking at the broken computer, and then he said, "Sure, yeah."

She got her bag, and he got up, taking it from her, and took his own in the other hand.  They closed the hotel door behind them.

***

"I tried to reach you, the other day," John said, "and I left a message."

"I'm sorry," Ray said, "It's been a very busy week.  What can I do for you, John?"

"Due to a police matter, I have to ask something.  I'm not really sold on asking, but I have to.  Job calls for it."

"All right, I'll just warn you that I cannot break client-doctor confidentiality."

"No, nothing like that.  I wondered if you had given any thought to Todd's mother visiting Mitch Laurence in jail."

Ray didn't respond at first, and then said, "I suppose there's a logical reason for this request, because I can't think of any."

"I . . . made a deal, to find the baby, your namesake.  Promised Laurence.  The Department is not happy with me for that.  If I don't follow through, on the deal, it could cause problems."

"You promised him he could see her?"

"I, well, yeah."

"I can't really think of an answer to that right now, except no, she shouldn't.  She's rounding a corner, and possibly will be out soon.  In that case, you could ask her yourself.  But as part of her treatment, I'd say, no.  I can't sanction that."

"He seems to think they were in love."

"I'm sure he does.  I can't even comment on her end of that, John, you know that."

"I do.  I just thought I'd try.  I guess I wait, then.  Is her release pending soon?"

"We're not quite sure.  A few details to iron out, a few last things in therapy, and she'll start by going to Todd's on weekends.  If that works, she'll continue with therapy until she doesn't need it, if that day comes.  I'm only telling you this because she's told me that this part of her recovery is okay to share with others.  She's very excited."

"Well, all right, Ray, thank you for taking the time to discuss what you could with me."

"Don't mention it.  If things change, I'll call you.  At this point, we're looking at outpatient care as she integrates into normal life outside Mountainview."

"I see.  Thanks."

"You're welcome.  Hope that situation there works out.  You could always stall Laurence."  Ray hung up.

John fingered a pencil on his desk, and then said, aloud, "Yeah, I could, couldn't I?"

***

Todd and Blair drove up in front of the Ribsky's house and parked at the curb.  She said, "You don't have to do this."

"It's my family's poison that changed this woman's life.  It's the least I could do.  Peter cost her a sister."

"All right, whatever you want," Blair said, nervous about what he might encounter and what it could bring up.

They walked, hand in hand, to the front door and knocked.  Ribsky opened the door.  "Todd, Blair, come in," he said.

Pamela looked grayer than Todd remembered her, and he couldn't take his eyes off her from the moment they entered the house.  Blair introduced herself, and Pamela said, "I'm sorry for the role my sister played in your child's kidnapping Mrs. Manning," and lowered her head.

"That apology is appreciated but really not needed.  It was Peter's doing; we know that,"  Blair said.

"No, not fully.  That's why I insisted on seeing Todd.  I have something to tell him, well, you both."

Todd looked gray himself, and Blair noticed as he sat on the loveseat across from the sofa, and she went and sat next to him, close enough that he could feel her body touching his.  He said, "I understand the need for closure.  I deal with it every day."

She weakly smiled, and it made him feel strange because of how thin and drawn she was.  She said, "Good, then you'll understand."  She pushed a journal toward them, on the coffee table.  "This is only one volume of my sister's journals.  I've been reading it because it was the most recent.  It . . . clears up some things about what happened with your son."

Blair was afraid to touch the book; she didn't want to know anything horrific that happened to her baby boy.  Todd took it a step further.  "Did he . . . hurt my little boy?"

"No, it doesn't seem so.  She had made it her mission to protect the baby.  She vowed, in writing, to watch over him and not let anything happen to him, in case the things you said here in this room about Peter were true."  She was not hiding her tears.  In fact, they were streaming down her face, and she spoke in a ragged tone.  "She wanted to protect him."

Blair sighed, and Todd said, "If that's true, then she died doing that."

"Yes, that's what I thought," Pamela said.  "There's an entry toward the end where she describes seeing . . ." she cleared her throat, "the cellar for the first time.  It was then she knew what she was dealing with, but was in too deep to get out.  She just vowed to save and protect the baby and somehow get him back to you.  She also was consumed by greed; he'd promised her a great deal."

Blair was also crying now, and the woman avoided her eyes.  She studied Todd, more, and said, "It's all there, in her own handwriting.  And there are almost thirty more volumes.  She kept a journal every day.  She had once aspired to be a writer.  Writing was her passion.  No one knew that, much."  She cried into her crumpled tissue.

Todd wasn't sure what to do.  He didn't really want to read the books, but he knew there would be valuable information about Peter's life, and even his, in their pages.  He still hadn't touched the volume she had placed on the table.  Instead, he impulsively got up, to Blair's surprise as well as everyone else's, and sat beside the woman and put his arms awkwardly around her and held her.  She cried woefully, and he said, "I'm so sorry for what he did and for what you lost."

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