Chasing the Monsters: 48

"What kind of mother doesn't see something like this happening to her son?"  Blair said, waking up beside her husband. 

He was already awake.  "Same kind as a father who doesn't."

"At least you figured it out."

"Blair, come on."

It was quiet for a moment, and she said, "You're already up?"

"I never slept, not really.  I keep thinking about Sam,"  Todd said.

"I know.  The poor thing.  It really showed when Timothy was there, and he was not even really into it.  Just staying to himself."

"He's . . . something is wrong.  He's just so afraid.  I just feel like I'm looking at myself as a kid."

She swallowed, and turned toward him.  She nestled close to him, and put her arm across his chest.  She said, "Why does this have to be this way?"

"He'll be all right.  He will."

"I know, I meant you.  Why does it have to be that you had this stuff happen to you?  It . . . hurts me so much, in my heart, Todd," she said, and broke into tears..

He stroked her hair, and his throat tightened.  He said, "Hey, you want me to move on?  Then you have to."

"I know, but my heart breaks," she said, sniffling, and not entirely convinced that either of them could.  "Now, what do we do about our little boy?"

"We just have to be there for him, that's all.  I'll figure this out, Blair, just trust me."

"I do.  More than anyone."

"Then just hang in there.  Sam's going to be okay.  He has us, and the most beautiful mother ever."

She smiled lightly through her tears.  "Todd, you always . . . you just make me so happy, even when things are . . . tough."

He said, "I want to give you everything, since you give me everything.  I love you, Blair."

"I know, and I love you, so much."

"Then we're okay.  Right?"

"Yes.  We're okay, Todd."

He swung his legs over the bed and went to the bathroom.

***

"Broderick?" Ribsky said, making his way into the diner.

"Ribsky," Timothy said, standing and putting out a hand.

"No bother standing up," the older man said, taking a seat.

"I'm appreciative that you would meet me here"  Timothy said.  "I have . . . a concern, ya might say."

"As in?"

"Y'ar wife just died, Jack.  Ya have to make arrangements.  Ya have to grieve.  I lost mine, too.  I know what it's like."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"A lot of things."

"I care about one thing right now, Broderick, and that's making things right.  Pamela's dead, Connie's dead, and Todd and his mother were abused and tormented by this freak, and my police department, the Chicago P.D., somehow has a hand in it.  And, frankly, someone has to pay."

"I understand that.  But wouldn't ya tell anyone in the same straights to let the law handle it?  Ya just had a striking blow . . ."

He laughed, a loud bellow, drowning out Timothy's concern.  "The law?  The law, here, making it right?  Nothing can make this right!"

"No, possibly not.  But ya have to stop and deal with . . ."

"No, no I don't.  I can't.  Gotta keep going, moving.  She deserves that," he said, and his face was almost slick with perspiration.

Timothy was cautious.  "Jack," he said.

"What?" he snapped.

"Jack, ya won't be much good to anyone if ya fall apart."

"Oh I won't fall apart.  I won't.  Someone's paying.  Someone's paying big.  You don't spend your life, being a cop, risking your life, day in and day out, to make things safe for people, so they can just be taken away because of someone's greed or stupidity.  You know what I'm doing now?"  He leaned forward toward Timothy.  "Reading those journals of Connie's.  That Peter Manning was a miserable fuck."

Timothy felt so uneasy, he could do nothing but listen as Ribsky continued, "The things he did and said to Connie, never mind anyone else, he should have been boiled in oil for."

Timothy said, "Can I do anything for ya, Jack.  Anything?"

"Yeah, you could, like, maybe call a funeral director, if you really want to help.  I've got to go through records tonight, a huge stack, see who was working on the force then, get a list . . ."

"Don't ya remember, Todd said he had that."

"What?"

"Todd.  He told us he has the list."

"Then have it sent to me, will you?"  He scribbled on a pad.  "Here's my son's number.  His name is Lucas.  Call him, about the funeral shit."

Timothy nodded slightly, and turned to leave.  He couldn't help but feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up as he walked out, leaving Jack Ribsky sitting alone, leafing through Connie's journal.

***

"Dad?" Jack was moving faster than usual as he came into The Sun home office.  "Dad, where's Mom?"

"She's downstairs with the kids, it's breakfast, why?"

"I've got something."  Todd looked down to see that Jack had Sam's mini laptop in his hands as his eldest son closed the door to the office.  "It's right here.  It was the middle of the night, basically, so Sam isn't getting sleep.  If you look here," he pointed, "It shows a record of a live chat around 3:00 a.m."

"He was up?"

"He was up," Jack said.  "Dad, I'm . . . I'm scared."

"It's okay, Jack.  The thing to remember is that no one actually touched your brother, whatever the chat is about.  Can we see what was said?"

"Yeah, I think so.  I didn't want to go there without you."

"Okay, I get that," Todd said, and then clicked the mouse on the Chat History button, and it opened another screen.  There was one chat, sitting there, named by time.  "It's just one."

"We enabled it just yesterday.  We can't see the others."  Jack offered.

Todd admitted to himself, but not his son, that he was apprehensive about seeing the truth.  He clicked the date and time stamp anyway, and up came a chat record.  The name of the other chatter was etched into his heart instantly.  Jack said, "Houdini?  I don't wanna see this, Dad.  If anything happened to Sam . . ."

"Nothing happened to Sam, right now, aside from words."  Todd tried to convince himself.

"No, Dad.  There's pictures on Skype.  You can see the other person."

Having forgotten that fact, Todd swallowed and started reading.

Houdini:  Do you have your camera on, so we can talk?

SamTheMan:  Not yet.  I am tired. 

Houdini:  Well, then, turn it on.

SamTheMan:  I don't want to, I'm tired and I want to go to sleep.  I have to go to school tomorrow.

Houdini:  I just have a few things to tell you.  Turn it on, Sam.

SamTheMan:  I don't like this anymore.

At reading this, Todd stood up and paced.  He said, "Jack, this . . . let me handle this, all right?"

"You want me to leave?"

"I think it's better."

"I . . . feel sick, Dad."

"I know, but I promise you, Sam is going to be all right.  I won't let anything happen to him."

"But it already did happen to him, whatever it is."

Todd looked at his son.  "Please, Jack.  Just give me a little time with this."

"Okay," he said, hesitantly, and walked toward the door.

Todd said, "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

'"You did the right thing, helping your brother.  And for now . . ."

"No Mom, I know.  She'll lose it."  He walked out.

Reluctantly, Todd, shut the door behind his son and went back to the mini laptop.  He had an idea who Houdini might be, and continued to read:

Houdini:  Why not?

SamTheMan:  Because you scare me.  Sometimes you make me scared that something will happen to my family.

Houdini:  I never said anything like that, Sam.  You know I wouldn't do that.  I'd never hurt your mom or your brothers and sisters.  And I think you know that by now.

How would Sam know that?  Fucking Zeus.  Shit.  

The next series of things he did were almost impulsive in rapidity, and his fingers nimbly worked until he secured the encryption program that he used on The Sun website, and tracked the IP address.  

He wasn't the least bit stunned at what he uncovered:  

• IP: 213.249.12.84 Country: Greece Region: Attiki  City:   Athens  Postal Code: N/A  Latitude/Longitude: 37.983299 / 23.733299

"Latitude and longitude.  I should just jump in the copter and go rip his fucking head off right now," he said aloud.

Except for the laptop and his desktop computer, he pushed everything off his desk onto the floor, and then folded his hands under his chin.  He read the rest of the conversation:

SamTheMan:  I guess.  Can we talk tomorrow?  I just want to sleep.

Houdini:  Okay, Sam, I'll talk to you tomorrow.

SamTheMan:  Can it be during the day?

"Yeah, Zeus.  You can't get up during the night to talk and let the kid sleep?  What the fuck?"

Houdini:  You know why it can't be during the day.  I'll Skype you tomorrow night, I'll try and do that a little later, so you can sleep more. 

SamTheMan:  Okay, I guess.  

Houdini:  Remember, our secret.

SamTheMan:  Yeah, I know.  Our secret. 

"That fucking degenerate freak," Todd said, closing the laptop firmly.  "Fuck," he said, just soaking in the reality of what he'd learned.  No wonder Sam's unhappy, tired, anti-social.  This asshole's been keeping him up nights saying God knows what. . .

Todd's eyes became slits, and he felt too-warm all over.  He pulled out his cell phone to call Perzno to fuel the jet for an emergency trip to Greece, but then thought of Blair and stopped.  How will I tell her?  She was married to this fucker while I was gone.  She has enough guilt about all of it.

He got up, and started cleaning up the mess he'd thrown onto the floor, and stacking it back onto the desktop, when Blair pushed the door open and came into the office.  "Todd?  What happened in here?"

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