Chasing the Monsters: 71

Todd gulped, staring directly into Mitch's face.  The older man said, "Caught you there, huh?  Now you're interested?"

"I don't know," Todd lied.

"Then put the phone down and go."

Todd hesitated.  Then he said, "You making threats?  From in here?"

"Oh, can't I?"

"Nothing I'd care about.  You tried before."

"Then why are you here?  Shouldn't you be going?  That phone in your pocket has been buzzing the whole time."

He looked to his leg and could see the shape of it, in his slacks, the rectangular item with curved edges.  The LCD light was flashing purple.

Blair.

"I don't suppose you've ever wondered why," Mitch started, "Your mother doesn't talk much about certain things."

"What are you getting at?"

"Now, back to the business at hand."

"No, finish what you said."

"You know, I've read a lot about you . . ."  Mitch started.

"Shut up and don't talk about my mother."

"You and I . . . we're so very much alike, Manning.  More than you realize . . ."

"Shut the fuck up," Todd glared at him.

"Your mother . . ."

"Forget my mother!  You're better off if you do.  She knows who you are.  She knows what you're capable of."

"Your mother will come here, to see me."

"She won't be doing that."

"You must allow her.  Whether you do or not, she will eventually come. I guarantee that."

"She doesn't want to.  That's where you're mistaken."

"She does.  You're blind to it.  Afraid to see.  Afraid that she does want to see me, that she does want me."

Todd slammed the phone down.  Mitch still held his, and grinned, tauntingly.  "You might want to pick that up," he said, and even without the phone connection, Todd could hear it, softly from the other side.  "You've sat here, on this end of things, Manning.  You probably know what a visit or two could mean."

Todd remained sitting, though he wasn't sure why.  He doesn't have Tina, just get up and go.

Mitch continued speaking, and holding the phone.  "You can go, but then, you'll never know my plans, will you?"

Todd picked up the phone, carefully.

"That's better," Mitch said, "Bring your mother to me.  Otherwise, something drastically unpleasant will happen to your wife, or maybe one of those little spawn," and he smiled.

"You don't really think I'll buy this?  You'll alienate Bitsy forever.  Let go, Laurence.  My mother has not been interested in you for over thirty years."

"But you're wrong, aren't you?  You've always been wrong about her, and where her heart lies.  She left you, didn't she?  She left you behind with that perverted monster.  That pedophile."

Todd moved his hand to his phone, and could feel the warmth of the battery as it continued to notify him of pending messages.  "My mother was ill.  You took advantage of her.  She knows all that."

"She does?"

"Yes.  She's aware of everything."

"Everything.  Hmf.  The question is, are you?"

"Look, I'm going now.  Nothing you have to say matters to me or her, or anyone else.  I know who my mother is, what she's about, and what kind of past she's had.  None of it matters, just as mine doesn't matter to her."

"Ah, before you hang up, you would want to consider this.  What if your mother does want to see me?"

"She doesn't.  I've told you.  And if you cared for her, you'd understand and let her go."

Mitch reached into his pocket.  He brought out a small stack of paper, that Todd recognized instantly as envelopes.  He began to pick through them, deliberately.  Todd said, "Those are not from her."

"They're not?" he said, fingering through them again.  He took one, and lifted it to his nose.  "She wears the same perfume, actually.  All this time.  You must have it ordered for her, yes?"

Todd slammed the phone down again, and went to get up, when Mitch stood and dropped one of the letters over the dividing glass.

Todd looked at it.  Light pink envelope.  The flap was turned down, the address side facing up.  A soft scrawl wrote the address.  Feminine print.

"Go ahead, take it," he could hear Mitch, taunting.  "Look at it.  These letters are very important to me, as you probably know.  Your time, contained here, was made easier by one Rebecca Lewis, if I recall."

Todd's eyes became steel.  Rebecca.  So gullible.  So trusting.  But I was young and foolish, she was too, and I was desperate. . .

He interrupted his own thoughts, and took the letter.  On the flap was no return address, just the flower design that he had seen before.

His mother.  

What is she doing?

"Don't bother to open it, or try and read the contents.  I've kept the actual letters for safe keeping.  That's just the envelope.  You can have it."

Todd, in his shock, lifted his head, and took the receiver.  "If she did write these, which there's no proof of, it's because she's recovering, trying to sort things out."

"If you say so.  Now, here's what's going to happen.  If you want to protect your dear wife, you'll bring your mother to me.  Otherwise, we wait it out and see what happens.  But of course, I won't be patient long."

"Careful, that's a threat they've just recorded."

"It's not a threat.  Could simply mean, I'll give up and never speak of it again."  His eyes narrowed, "Could mean many things."

"Why should I care about a feeble threat from inside prison?  Most of what you spew are lies anyway."

"Maybe," he said.  "But you'll have to figure that out, won't you?"  Mitch hung up, leaving Todd sitting across from the plexiglass pane, holding the phone with a deadness on the other end.  He raised his eyes as Mitch stood.  "As always, Heed the Messenger."  And he turned, and waited for the guard to come to the door and let him back into the annals of the prison.

Todd watched him go, slowly replacing the receiver on the hook, and staring blankly at Laurence's back.

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Chasing the Monsters: 70

"Bridgette, I hoped I hadn't caught ya at an inopportune time."

Blair began to cry.  "Oh, Dad . . ."

"Goodness, are ya sad I interrupted or is something going on I should know about?"  he looked to Dorian, who was dressing in a pair of Timothy's sweatpants and a t-shirt.  She knotted the shirt at the waist.

"Dad, Todd ran off to the jail.  To see Mitch.  Tina's come up missing, and he thinks he has something to do with it."

"Dear.  I can see why y'ar upset."

"I'm at a loss.  Can you come over?"

"Of course.  I'll be there in a bit, then."

"I'll send Williams," she said, hanging up.

"Is he coming?"  Bitsy said.

"Yes, he's on his way.  I don't know what good it will do now."

"He can think of something, maybe something legal we can do for Tina and about Mitch."

"Maybe.  We can't even call Todd and get him back.  He's flying that damn copter."

"He loves to fly.  He . . . was always interested in that.  He loved birds."

"I know," Blair said, sitting down.  It would be at least an hour before Timothy got there.

Over at the penthouse, Timothy said, "Blair needs us."

"Wait a minute, I just went and basically told that man I love him.  Are you saying he's at it again?"  Dorian said.

"We're going to support Blair, and we'll talk about this on the way.  Call her back and let her know that I'll be in a cab.  It's faster than waiting for Williams, it is."

Dorian did as he asked.  After hanging up, she said, "I'm going with you," and grabbed her fur.

"Fine.  But no comments about Todd, eh?"

"I won't," she paused.  "Unless it's absolutely necessary."

Timothy rolled his eyes.  "No comments about Todd, Dorie."

"What happened?"  she asked, loading into the elevator beside him.

"Something with Tina, she's missing.  Viki is upset, no doubt.  Todd goes to solve things."

"Where would he go?"

"To see Mitch Laurence."

"Oh, for God's sake, why?  This is the kind of thing . . ."

He put his finger gently to her lips.  "I'm not exactly sure.  Bridgette said she would tell us more when we get there.  I do have an idea, though, of a good investigator for the job."

"Who?"

"Jack Ribsky."

"The guy from Chicago?"

"Yes.  Now that he's a widow, unexpectedly, this might be a good way for him to involve himself in something distracting."

"It sounds right.  He might also relish the opportunity to help Todd's family in some way."

"Exactly."  He had already hailed a cab.  They were moving quickly and on a mission as they piled into the taxi and continued their talk.  He said, "This may help Blair feel better about things as well."

"Todd went to the jail?"

"It seems so . . . ah!"  Timothy said, looking up out the window, "There's the copter.  He's about to land it on the Manning Building."

"Never a dull moment."

"No.  But he's already here, headed for whatever's next to get him to Statesville. . . uh, wait, I was wrong, he's not landing, not at all."

"Don't tell me he's driving the thing straight there?"

"That sounds like Todd, yes."

"Where will he land?"

"I dare say he knows the place.  And I dare say, anywhere he wants," he said.

***

Todd set the copter down on the lawn at Statesville and was immediately surrounded with armed guards as he lowered the window and sat, waiting.  One administrator came to the door. and said, "Excuse me, Sir?  What are you doing?  Are you aware you are landing on government property at a corrections facility?"

"Yes, I'm aware.  Are you the warden?"

"Yes."

"Warden, visiting hours are almost up.  I couldn't get out here faster by any other means.  This is my private helicopter, and I have a check," he handed him the paper, "for $5000, which would be double the ticket fee for parking an aerial vehicle in the wrong area."

The warden looked at the check, and said, "I see.  Well, your paperwork seems to be in order, Mr.?"

"Manning.  Todd Manning."  What if this guy was here when I was?  Could he have been?

"Mr. Manning, I've heard your name.  You're the guy who rescued Patrick Thornhart, from the terrorists abroad, right?"

"Yeah, now that you mention it."

"Well, I'm honored."  At this, Todd's eyebrow went up.  The man continued, "What's your business here?"

"I need to visit an inmate.  Pretty urgent."  He went out on a limb:  "You can check it with John McBain."

The warden went back, clearing the area, and returned, giving Todd the final go ahead.  "No need.  Your credentials in those dealings with the Men of 21 is enough.  I'm sure McBain would vouch for you."  

Todd felt a sense of victory that the warden had accepted everything at face value, and for once, for the first time in his sorry life, his reputation proceeded him in a positive way.  Having never experienced that before, he walked gingerly into the building, cautious and out of sorts.  Upon entering Statesville, he couldn't help but have a pang of nausea, as he recollected his time there.   He shook it off as he rounded the corner to the visitor's waiting area, and sat.  Finally, he heard the name "Laurence," which signaled his turn at the visitor's table.  He tucked his cell phone inside his pocket as he entered the room, following the institutional buzzing to release the lock.

He walked through a long hallway, and to a set of doors.  He immediately recognized it as the visitor area, from when he was on the other side.  He waited, and the second buzz signaled his entrance.  Instead of entering the side where the doors all opened to the inmates, he was let into the larger area, where visitors took a seat at a designated place across from a glass wall and a telephone handset.  He waited in his chair, looking around him occasionally, until finally, a buzzing in front of him opened a security door, and Mitch Laurence appeared coming through it.  The prisoner sat across from him, and made no effort to pick up the receiver.

Todd did, and waited.

Mitch, whose arms were folded over his chest, slowly, undid them and reached for the phone.  He said, "Manning."

"Laurence."

"I said to bring your mother.  Not interested in talking with you."

"I'm all you get for now.  If you hope to ever see my mother again, you'll talk to me today."

***

"Dad, Dorian, come in," Blair said, and she appeared flustered.

"Bridgette, it's going to be fine, it is," Timothy said.

At that point, Blair took her hand off her forehead and looked at Dorian, who was still in her fur coat and Timothy's sweats and t-shirt.  She said, "Dorian, what are you doing?" pointing to her clothes.

"It's faux!" she said, incredulous.

Blair rolled her eyes, and Bitsy said, "Todd's gone off to see Mitch, of course, needless to say, Blair and I are not too happy about this."

"He'll be fine.  He's a smart man," Dorian said.  Everyone looked at her.  "Well, he is!"

"Dad, what are we going to do?  Tina's missing, Todd's trying to play hero, and Mitch is nuts."  Blair said, and her cheeks were flushed with concern.

"Well, I can't do much about the third one, but I can tell ya an idea I have."

"I'll take anything at this point," she said, texting her husband again.

"Jack Ribsky.  He's an excellent investigator, should be able to help with Tina.  As for stopping Todd, well, that has to play itself out."

"I never thought of that.  Ribsky can be trusted, and he's an ex-cop,"  Blair said.

"I'll ask him.  I'm sure he could use the distraction, at this point."

"Todd's not answering, dammit!"  Blair said, plopping onto the last stair.

"He will," Bitsy said, sitting next to her.

"Let's not mope around here," Dorian said, "If there is one thing I've learned about that man, Todd Manning, it's that he can take care of himself.  Now let's go into the family room and discuss this in an adult manner.  He'll be back in a matter of hours."

Everyone followed the woman in the sweats and faux fur.

***

"All I want is to see her," Mitch said.  "What you have to say means nothing to me.  She heeds, you loathe and I loathe in return.  If it weren't for her, you'd be dead right now."

"And if it weren't for Blair and my kids, you'd be dead, too."

"Hah," he half-laughed, and then said, "What do you want, Manning?"

"My sister."

"Viki?  What about her?  That's old news.  I've already had my way with her."

Todd seethed.  Keeping his composure was extremely difficult, but then he felt his cell phone buzz in his pocket and knew.  Blair.  She's worried.  Don't let her down.

"Whatever.  That's not what I meant."

"Tina?  What would I want with that misfit?  God knows what she's up to.  Traitor.   Insolent."

Todd realized he may have made a grave mistake just by seeing Mitch's reaction regarding Tina.  "What, you don't know where she is?"

"No, and why would I care?  She's flotsam.  Wait. . ."  he grinned.  "You came here because she's missing, didn't you?"

Todd didn't answer.  His cell phone buzzed again, as if Blair was with him.

"Hah!" he said, and then, "Now, let's get to business.  I'd love to take claim for that red-headed, numbskull being gone, but I simply can't.  The matter at hand, your beautiful mother.  When will she be here?"

Todd swallowed, and ignored the small beads of sweat on his brow.  "Who said she was coming?"

Mitch's eye twitched.  "I did."

"Well, she's not.  I've got no reason for her to come and see you.  You're a sick man."

"Sick?  I wouldn't be using the word that way if I came from the house of Peter Manning."

"I'm going now."

"You don't want to do that," he said, leaning back.

"Oh yes, I do."

"You don't.  Because if you hang up that phone, you will reap the regrets of a thousand sorrows," he said.

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Chasing the Monsters: 69

It felt good to be back in Llanview.  Passing Rodi's, he smiled to himself.  The beautiful glass doors and walls of The Diamond Gallery, polished and perfect, reflected nighttime traffic lights and cars as they sped past it.

The Second Chances Mission, now run and managed by Anthony, was perched on the corner.  Passing it, he was filled with memories of first meeting Tina, and also, his and Jack's first meeting with Bea.  He thought of his son's generosity, and smiled to himself.   As the cab stopped at the traffic light to wait, he laughed a little at how Tina had stowed away in his car to get to La Boulaei.  And by that chance, she had enabled the Mannings to get away safely from Mitch Laurence's plot.

There were so many things about Llanview that he loved.  The center of Angel Square, Logan's Department Store, the Manning Building (for it belonged to his boy) were part of his life now.  Many of the other spots, not as dear, such as the hospital, he also passed.  Regardless, he still didn't call it "home." In fact, Ireland always called to his heart, no matter how many roots he was setting down.  It was just a fact.  He was an Irishman, born and bred, and always would be.  Perhaps, if things went well between he and Dorian, he would take her there, on a trip of sorts, and show her its beauty.   In the past few years, nothing but the dismal sadness associated with Todd's kidnapping was evident to all of them when overseas.

Timothy disembarked the cab, and went into the building, carrying his suitcase and a small garment bag.  Hitting the elevator call button, he greeted the doorman, and whistled while waiting.  Finally, the bell rang and the elevator opened, and he stepped in.  As he turned to push the button, against the side wall was Dorian, in a very black fur coat, clearly with nothing else on under it.

Timothy gasped, "Dorie, what in the name of . . ."

"It's faux," she said, as the elevator door closed.

***

The next morning, Todd exhausted his resources to try and track Tina and everything came back without any result.  "Where the Hell are you, Tina?  No offense, but you're not the brightest bulb in the bunch," he muttered to himself.  Thinking of her past, he realized anything at all could have happened to her, on a road trip from here to "Hickville."  But, there was no trace of her, or her rental car, and hadn't been for a few days.  "Come on, Sis.  Where are you?" he said, putting a trace, with hacking stealth, on her credit cards.  "She can't go a day without buying something," he said aloud.  "I'll find her that way, at least, and probably sooner."

His eyes fell on the trashcan, where yesterday's mail scraps were, and he suddenly remembered the letter.  Rushing to the bedroom, he stuck his hand under the covers and pillows and pulled out Mitch's correspondence.  He reread it:

Manning,

John McBain should really be more careful about what he promises to those he needs to rely on in the future, whether it is to give information or hold back from doing the things they long to do to those that wronged them.

 "Those that wronged them . . ." he thought aloud.  "Tina foiled Mitch's plan.  Duped him into thinking she was on his side, going to give him the Bhadrah diamond.  I never responded to his letter.  Shit.  He's got her."

***

Timothy, one leg hanging off the penthouse sofa, had Dorian strewn over him like a blanket, her fur coat was on the floor beside them, coupled with his clothes.  He noticed he was still wearing his button-down shirt, and it was open, all of the buttons undone, or popped.  Both of them were breathing heavily, for the second time since he returned, and he said, "I suppose that was another welcome home."

"Yes, that was another welcome home," she said, breathless.

"For an old coot, I'm not half bad, eh?"

"Not at all.  For a young coot, neither."

"Like y'ar ex?"

"David?  I suppose that the one thing he's good at is sex.  You've got maturity and romance on your side," she said, kissing his chest.

"To what did I owe this spectacular greeting?"

"I suppose it was your heroic work in Chicago, bringing down the perpetrators."

"It wasn't all that heroic, in essence.  Ya see, he had taken his own life."

"The perpetrator?"

"Yes.  I told ya I'd fill ya in later."

"I wasn't expecting that."

"Well, he's dead.  He couldn't carry the guilt, and the fear of the scandal and spending his old age in jail.  He shot himself."

"Does Todd know this?"

"No.  Not yet.  I felt, well, he had enough at the time.  I'll tell him when the time is right."

"He said he's doing well," she added, playing with his chest hair.

"Oh?"

"Yes, when I went to see him yesterday."

"Ya went to see him?"

"I did."

"Well, what did he say?"

"He said he was fine.  I told him . . . I told him . .  well, how I feel," she said, resting her head back down on his chest.  She could hear his heart.

"Dorie.  Ya did?"

"I did.  And, he said he loved me.  I was quite shocked.  That ought to last us, oh, three days or so."

"I'm proud of ya.  He needs acceptance, from anyone who can give it."

"I know that," she said.  "He got me right here, in this apartment.  When he came here that day and I was here?  I heard everything.  He broke my heart.  Peter Manning was an animal."

"Well, this is true.  I am sure he received it well."

"He did.  Blair was so emotional about it."

"She loves ya both.  Y'ar like a mother to her."

"I suppose I am.  She's had it rough, too, no one thinks of it much."

"Addie was mentally ill.  Blair was in foster homes, is that it?  She mentioned something, briefly, once."

"Yes, she was, until she was a bit older.  I stepped in when she was older and I realized what was going on."

"Her father?"

"An orderly, at the mental hospital, supposedly.  Raped Addie, and Blair was born."

"That's terrible."

"Addie could never talk about it much, and had little memory of the whole thing."

"Sickening, to take advantage of someone like that."

"Deplorable.  He was never caught, no one could ever tell who he was, including Addie."

It was quiet for a while, and then Timothy said, "Ya did a nice thing, for Todd."

"I know.  And for me.  I think you made me see the light.  He has grown on me quite a bit over the years."

***

"Blair!  Blair!" he bellowed, and she came out of the bedroom with Jewel and into the office.

"What is it, Todd?  Goodness, you'd think the world is ending!"

Jewel said, "Daddy!"

"Hi Baby," he said, and then looked at Blair, "I have to talk to you and Jewel can't hear."

"Okay, okay, I can go and put her down, or have your mother take her?"

Bitsy appeared at the doorway.  "What's going on?  I heard you, Todd, yelling from the other room."

"Well, this is important.  Tina's missing, and I think that nutcase Laurence has something to do with it."

"No, Todd, come on.  He's in jail, behind iron bars, you said so yourself, not a day or so ago."  Blair said.

"It's him.  He's pissed that I ignored his note."

"Note?"  Bitsy asked.

"Momma," Todd said, "It's nothing, just forget it."

"No, Todd, what is it?" Bitsy pleaded.

"Tell her, Todd.  She deserves to know what's going on,"  Blair said.

"He wrote me a letter.  He wants me to . . . do something."  Todd said.

"What?  What does he want you to do?"  Bitsy asked.

"He wants me to . . . let you go and see him.  But we're not talking about it, Momma.  You're not going anywhere near him."

"Todd, how did he take Tina?  Are you certain he has her?  Did he send someone to hurt her?"  Bitsy was beside herself.

"Momma, we don't know.  It would be pretty hard, from jail."  Blair said.

"Remember Jenna's mother?  She wasn't in jail," Todd said, pacing.  "I'm going there and find out what he did with my sister."

"Todd, wait, now, stop.  We have to think this out.  How could he have anything to do with that from there?  She was driving across the country."  Blair said.

Todd was getting his jacket on, and determined.  Bitsy said, "No, Todd, you can't go see him.  He hates you, he did hate you, from the start, you know that.  He hated Victor Lord, so he hated you."

Todd stopped.  "I'm going to find out what he did with my sister."

"Todd, no.  I don't want you to go there," Blair said.  "I don't want you talking to him, just like you don't want your mother to go."

"Todd, listen to Blair.  There's another way, we can call the police."  Bitsy said.

"He wants to play this kind of game, then he doesn't know what he's getting into,"  Todd grabbed his wallet and keys and put them into his pocket.

"Todd, no," Blair said, taking his arm.

"Blair, let go."

"Todd, no, you promised not to leave me.  You promised that the family came first."

He put his hands on her arms, and steadied her.  "Listen, Babe.  Nothing's going to happen to me at the jail.  You know that.  Guards, McBains, and Bo's, oh my."

"Todd, I'm serious.  I don't want you to go.  Please."

"I'm going to be okay.  Just . . . it's all right.  He can't hurt me in the prison,"  Todd said.

"If he can hurt Tina from the prison, then he can hurt you, Todd.  Please," she whispered.

"He won't."  Todd said.

Bitsy, who had fallen very quiet, suddenly said, "Because of me.  He won't because he'll want to try and see me.  Todd can use me for protection.  Isn't that what you're thinking?  He won't hurt you, as long as there's me to bargain with?"

Todd and Blair both turned in shock toward Bitsy.  Todd said, "Yes, actually, you're right."

"No, I don't like this.  Don't, please, Todd," Blair said.

"He won't hurt me, Blair.  He wants to see Momma, and as long as he believes he has a chance of that . . . I mean, if he does something to me, he'll never see her, right?"

Blair had no answer.  "I don't . . . Please.  Not Mitch.  Remember, what he did, Todd?  Holding us at La Boulaei, threatening our children?  He cut you, he almost shot us.  He . . . buried you alive, Todd.  Please, just let it go.  We'll get John, he'll help find Tina."

He kissed her, pulling her to him, by her shoulders, and then said, "I have to do this, Blair.  Once and for all, I have to do this."  And before she could say more, he was gone.

Bitsy walked to Blair, and took her hand.  "He will be back.  He's going to be all right."

Blair sat down, still holding Bitsy's hand.  "I can't lose him."

"You won't.  I know Mitch.  He wants what he wants.  And it's clear, he wants to see me."

Blair looked at her mother-in-law, who now sat next to her.  She said, "I've never heard you talk this way, Momma.  It's . . . different.  How would you know what he wants?"

Bitsy paused, and her cheeks flushed.  "I can't be sure, not really.  It's all true, though.  Todd's been through enough, and you.  It just makes sense.  I'm your insurance."

Blair smiled.  "I guess."

"He'll be all right, Blair.  He will."

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
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Chasing the Monsters: 68

"Good afternoon, Blair, are you alone?"  Dorian asked, coming into the foyer at Unforgettable.

"No, Todd's in the office, Dorian, Jack and Sam are at school, the kids are playing with Bitsy upstairs.  Why?"

"I just stopped by to . . . well, to . . . Blair, how are things here?"

"They're fine, Dorian," Blair said, not offering to take her jacket.

"I . . . came by to . . . see if things have settled down since Todd ran off half-cocked to deal with Zeus."

"Yes, things are settled.  He's fine, I'm fine, we're fine."  Her niece took the stance of arms folded over her chest.  "Is there something you wanted?"

"I'm sure by now you know that Timothy and I are on our way back to each other."

"Yes, I've heard.  Todd told me.  Of course, I didn't hear it from you, but . . ."

"Yes, well, I've been thinking a lot of coming by, or calling.  The truth is . . ." she hesitated.  "The truth is, I'd like to see Todd, please."

"You want to see Todd?  Dorian, let it be, will you?"

"I don't think I can, will you call him or shall I go up?" she said, pushing by Blair a bit to get to the staircase.  She ascended, with Blair on her heels.

She went to the door of the office that was open, to let the kids come in and out as they wanted.  He looked up.  "Oh great, first a letter, then this," he muttered.  "Hello, Auntie Dorian," he said, standing and walking toward her.  He shoved his hands into his front pants pockets, and stood in front of her.

"Todd, hello," she said, and Blair stood, leaning against the door frame, arms still crossed.

"Dorian, let's go, will you?  Todd's working, and I'm sure he doesn't have time for twenty questions."  Blair said.

"Now, Blair, I haven't got twenty questions, actually.  Just one."

Todd said, "Shoot," and shrugged casually.  Blair rolled her eyes, but wasn't budging.

Dorian placed her purse down on the desk, and turned.  "Are you all right?"

Todd laughed.  Blair squinted, and stood up from the door frame, dropping her arms.  Todd said, "That's the question?"

"Yes, indirectly.  Of course, I'd like more details, but I came by to check on you, Todd.  Is it true what Timothy said?  This might be over, for you, at last?"

Todd squinted himself at her, with a slightly crooked smile sneaking through his expression.  

Blair said, "Dorian, please.  We're fine, nothing's going to hurt us that Todd's dealing with."

Todd spoke up.  "Wait, Blair, she's not checking to see if you're in danger, or the kids."  He turned back to Dorian.  "You're asking . . . if I'm past what's happened, to me.  Me, personally.  Aren't you?"

She flushed.  "Yes.  And if Blair would let me speak, you'd understand."

Blair walked into the room, and sat herself on the couch, crossing her legs, and sitting silently to listen.  Even though it may have been a good idea to give them privacy, she felt a protective need to stay with her man.

Dorian said, "I . . . came to see if you're all right, Todd.  If it's true that this all is behind you."

He smiled, openly.  "Yes.  Yes, I'm all right, Auntie Dorian.  It's over."

She looked directly into his face, and smiled.  "I'm glad, Todd.  Sincerely.  You know, I heard you, at your father's apartment a short while ago, and I . . . can't say how sorry I am that most of the caregivers in your life never stood up for you and helped.  It took my niece, and her love, to rescue you, it seems."

Todd attempted to deflect the power her statement had on his emotions, "Yeah, she's okay, that one," he nodded his head toward Blair, who was stunned, and her eyes were glistening with tears.

"I suppose I wanted to make sure," Dorian said, fondling her necklace, nervously.  "And all I've wanted is for it to be over, and for you to be . . . well, done with it, I suppose."

"I am.  Finally.  Facing all of it worked.  Your niece being there was what made it easier, though."  He shot a look at his wife.  Then he said, "She's my one true babe, and it will never change.  So, thanks for raising her, at least part of the way."

Blair's tears slightly spilled over, and she wiped under her eye with her fingertip.

Dorian said, "Todd, it's always been clear to me, even when things weren't right, you were deeply and utterly in love with her, and everyone could see it.  But, what I really wanted to say was. . .that, I'm sorry for all the things you've been through Todd.  It must have been very painful."

He shrugged again, and said, "It is what it is, or at least, what it was.  So to answer your question, I'm okay, Dorian, thanks."

She smiled, and said, "And, Todd, I wanted to tell you, also, that . . . well, I . . .What I am trying to say, is . . ." she stuttered and then stopped.  She stepped closer and kissed his cheek softly.  "I may not show it, or agree with you, but I do care very much what happens to you."  She rubbed the lipstick off his face, with water in her eyes.

Todd looked away, and then to the floor, before looking up, and smiling.  "Auntie Dorian."  He looked back to Blair, who was a total mess, but smiled through her tears.  "If I'd only learned how to say what had to be said, some twenty years go, we could have avoided a lot of the wasted time," his voice cracked and he looked back to his wife's aunt, "but, here we are.  And I love you, too."

She smiled.  "Yes, here we are.  Well," she picked up her purse, "I've got to be going.  I really just wanted to . . . well, to tell you that."

She turned to go, and he said, "Oh, uh, Auntie Dorian?  Would you like to stay and have lunch with us?  I mean, I was planning on cooking up something.  You know your girl there can't cook to save her life."

"You seem to take care of the cooking and other things for her," she said.  "Yes, I'd love to."

He walked to her and put out his elbow, and she took it, and they both left the office together, with Blair, in tears, behind them.  She stood up, and went to his desk, taking Kleenex from the box there, and wiping her eyes, careful not to smudge her make-up all over her face.

Leaning over to put the tissue into the wastebasket, she spied a piece of paper, crumpled on the floor, with a corner of the envelope poking out, legible.  It read "Statesville Prison" and she felt her heart leap.  She unwrinkled the paper carefully, and read it.  "Mitch.  God," she said aloud, softly, "Blair Manning, your man can't catch a break," she took it and brought it to the bedroom, before turning and descending the stairs to join them.

***

Cord sorted through his mail, and came upon a postcard from Arkansas:

Road trip!  Nice here, but I'll be there soon!  Make sure you're home to meet me!

Love, Tina

P.S. I'll be there next Thursday, sometime between 9 am and noon.

He looked at the date.  "Next Thursday, Girl, you're . . . that was yesterday!"  he said aloud, and raced to the main house.

Finding his way into the foyer, he called for the head cleaning woman, and said, "Genny, have you seen anyone around here, who might, well, look lost?  Strawberry blonde, about so high" he said, putting his hand near his chest.  "Pretty little thing?"

"No, sir.  No one like her around here," she said.

 "I want you to ask the rest of the staff if they saw anyone like that," he said, but he knew she hadn't been around, because Tina, of all people, would have made her presence known.

He took the postcard back out of his vest pocket and read it over.  "Girl, you sure know how to time things.  If it's not walking into my wedding to another woman with my newborn son, it's deciding to come across country right when my latest romance falls apart," he said to no one.  "But where the Hell are you, Tina?"

He went to the phone to call Viki.

***

Later, Todd and Blair got into bed, the house was quiet, and the only light was coming from the skylight above them.  She took her place against him in the dark, and he wrapped his arm around her.  He said, "What a day."

"Yeah.  Dorian was the shocking part.  She basically said she loves you."

"The shocking part is that I said it back."

She playfully slapped his belly.  "Oh, stop.  Anything else happen today?"

"Well, I don't know, the kids, that was fun tonight playing that game, that HuckleBuckle something."

"Yeah, that was fun.  Your mother loves those kids so much."

"I know.  They love her, too.  Jack was so moody.  He's almost a man."

"Yeah, I guess so, huh?  Hard to believe.  Remember what a beautiful baby he was?"

"I can't forget that.  Ever.  That face."

"Yes," she said snuggling, and sliding her hand under the pillow, she said, "Anything else?"

"No, why?"

She pushed up on her elbow and turned on the lamp next to the bed.  "What would you call this, Todd Manning?"

He looked and realized she was holding the letter from Mitch that he'd opened earlier that day.  He said, "Oh that?"

"Yeah, that."

"It's nothing, really, come on."

"It's dated right before we went to Greece, and you just opened it."

"So?  He's a psycho."

"Exactly.  Why didn't you tell me this?"

"To be honest, your aunt's declaration sort of wiped my slate clean."

She rolled her eyes at him.  "He's almost threatening us here."

"No, he's full of hot air.  Now heed my message and kiss me here," he said, pointing to his treasure trail.

"Todd!  I'm serious!"

"And I'm not?"

She folded her arms.  "Stop playing around, this is not a joke.  Mitch Laurence is dangerous."

"Yeah, when he's not behind iron bars."

"He got out before."

"Yeah but that was then, this is now."

"What does he want with your mother?"

"I don't want to know," he said, cringing.  "I just ignore him.  He'll go away."

"Well, I guess."  She leaned back against the pillows.

He said, "Now back to that heeding . . ." and his phone rang.  "It's late," he said, leaning over to get it.  "Hello?  Sis?" he covered the receiver, "It's Viki."  He went back to the call, "Yeah?  What's up?  Huh?  What do you mean?  How does he know?  Shit.  Yeah, I'm on it, first thing in the morning.  Yeah, don't worry."  He hung up and stared at the ceiling.

"Well, what is it?" she asked, still holding Mitch's letter.

"Tina's missing."

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Chasing the Monsters: 67

Having arrived back in Chicago very late that night, they decided to crash at Timothy's hotel room.  The next day, they found themselves walking through the damp dewy grass, Timothy leading the way.  Jack Ribsky hung back, following, slowly, his reluctance showing.  Finally, Timothy stopped, and said, "It's just over there, Mate.  Ya don't have to, but if ya don't, it will just be harder when ya do."

"And you would know this."

"Yes.  I know this.  When Erin died, it took me all too long, and it only made things worse."

He looked over the hillside.  Then, he looked back to Timothy.  "You have any plans?"

"No, my plan is to wait here for ya, if ya want.  As long as ya need."

"Would you go with me, over there?"  He nodded toward the hill where Timothy had told him that his wife was at rest.

"If that's what ya want, I'm willing."

He nodded, and Timothy kept walking, Ribsky trailing behind.

Finally, over the hillside, they came to her gravesite; the stone her son had chosen was rose in color, and very small, with her name etched clearly.  "There's another plot here, for me," Ribsky said, still standing back.  Timothy stepped to the side, as if to invite the widower closer.  He gingerly stepped up and looked down.  He said, "Another plot, right next to hers.  We bought them that way."

"I understand," Timothy said, stepping back.

"Pam," he said, and nothing more.  He lowered his head, and was quiet for a moment.  He repeated, "Pam."  He turned back to Timothy.  "She's really gone."

"Yes."

"She left me."

"Yes."

"When she first got sick, and we made that list, we both cried all night when we were done.  Then she said, 'there's no more crying after this, let's just do those things and do them well.'"

"Y'ar angry with her, for leaving before ya had the chance."

Ribsky looked back to the grave.  "I guess I am."

"It's part of it.  Not strange, not something to be ashamed of.  Being angry is part of it, believe me.  Ya don't feel guilty about it."

"I don't understand why she did this to us?  She . . . we had time left."

"But, she didn't."

Timothy placed a strong hand on the man's shoulder as Ribsky broke down.  The Irishman said, "Ya have to go on, ya know that."

"I can't see it.  Without Pam?  I can't see anything more."

"There's more.  There's y'ar son, and his children.  There's so much more.  I felt the same, until Todd and his family gave me a reason, and then, I sobered up and found my purpose.  Ya have one, ya do.  If ya let it be seen."

He sniffed and went to his knee.  "Pam," he said, lightly touching the disturbed ground.  "I'm sorry."

Timothy continued to keep his hand on Jack's shoulder, even if just to let him know there was someone else there that he could turn to.  Finally, after a while longer, Ribsky stood up.  "Pam, I'm going now.  I'll . . . be talking to you," he said, "every night."

***

"Hello, Dorie," Timothy said, tossing his sport coat on the couch, after removing his mud-ridden shoes.  The hotel had already brought his bags down to the lobby, and his rental car was being brought around.

"Timothy." She said his name, decidedly, and he loved the way it sounded from her mouth.

"Yes, Beautiful," he said.  "I'm coming home.  Probably later today.  My work here seems to be finished.  At last."

"Will the men be prosecuted?" she asked.

He was surprised at her first question.   "It's not what it seems.  I'll fill ya in later.  But, ah, y'ar very concerned with that, eh?"

"Well," she said, moderately embarrassed, "I do care about my niece."

"Ya care about y'ar nephew, too.  Ya just can't admit that ya love the boy."

"Oh come now, Timothy, he's not a boy," she said.

"He may as well be one, since his childhood was taken from him.  And this ya very well know, Dorie."

She pursed her lips, remembering Todd, at the penthouse, a few weeks back, and the words she'd overheard.  "I suppose.  He does behave rather childishly at times.  But, is it over for him?  I mean, for Blair and the children?"

"Ya need to ask him if it's over for him, Dorie.  A conversation with him might not hurt, letting him know ya were pulling for him in this, and that y'ar glad it's come toward an end."

"I suppose, but that's neither here nor there right now," she said.  Then she continued, "As his lawyer, I am sure you know there was an incident?  I'd think you'd know about it.  Blair said that his memories were triggered by some items in a trunk, and he ran off to Greece to kill Zeus."

Timothy second guessed her.  "He ran off to Greece because of a trunk?" he asked, emphasizing how ridiculous she sounded.

"Well, no.  He was looking through the trunk and dealing with memories, and Sam mentioned something Zeus had done to him as a child, and Todd lost his mind and ran off to murder the man."

Timothy wasn't upset by her words, in fact, he calmly said, "But he didn't."

"Well, no, how did you know that?"

"Because in my estimation, Dear Heart, Blair went after him, eh?"

"Well, yes," she began.

"And in y'ar heart, ya know he's not a violent man, not by nature, only by nurture, correct?"

She didn't answer at first.  Then she said, "I suppose that's true."

"He wouldn't kill the child's father, and likely, not any man, unless to protect his family.  He was chasing monsters of his own, he was, and I dare say he won."  His voice showed a victorious exuberance.  

And pride.  

She went on, fishing, "What about the men who ignored his calls when he was a boy?  Did you find them?  What did you mean when you said, 'it's not what it seems?'"

"Let's just say those monsters are at rest as well," he said.

"Get home, soon," she said.

"I will be.  And ya take care of that woman on the other end of the line who just wants to go and hug her nephew and tell him she loves him, but somehow can't.  I love ya, Dorie."  He hung up.

***

Todd went to his office and saw a pile of mail on his desk.  With all the involvement in the Zeus situation, letters and advertisements had collected, and he'd not had the chance to go through them.

He began to sort through the letters and postcards, and saw a mix of junk and real mail, sorting it into two piles.

It was then that he came to a plain white envelope with a handwritten address, direct to him.  Not recognizing what it was, he opened it, casually, and began to read.

Manning,

John McBain should really be more careful about what he promises to those he needs to rely on in the future, whether it be to give information or hold back from doing the things they long to do to those that wronged them.  

 Nevertheless, all I've wanted was one thing, and that was to see your mother, again.  She's a woman, a very grown woman, who can make her own choices, and, as she has in the past, you won't hold her back from seeing me, not ultimately.  

I helped save your child, your life and Barbara and Blair's by giving John McBain the information he wanted. 

Should this go unrewarded?

I'm asking, once more, and this last time, cordially, that you bring your mother, Barbara, to me.  I won't be speaking of what will happen if you stop her from coming to see me, because there's no need for that.  In fact, I am positive she wants to see me, as I do her. I suggest you heed. 

~The Messenger. 

"Bastard," he said aloud, crumpling the letter in his palm.  He tossed it into the wastebasket, missing, and continued to look through the pile.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
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Chasing the Monsters: 66

Tricia Miller sat back down, and her eyes were different; her shell was cracking.  "Tell me, please, Timothy, is your son whole?  Is he able to live his life after  . . . what Peter Manning took from him?"

Timothy looked to the ceiling.  "My son is in his forties now.  It has taken most of his life to do exactly what you just described, and it has just recently come to a head.  He's just now being able to begin to let go," he heard his own voice crackle.

She looked to her hands, and then said, "He has to know that my husband suffered every day.  He has to know that.  If it wasn't drugs, or alcohol, it was depression and morbid thoughts.  We were never happy.  Nothing was ever the same.  He never got over what role he played."

"I appreciate hearing that," Timothy said, "but I'm not sure the suffering of someone else can take away what was done.  But I will tell him."

"All right," she said.  "One more thing."

"Certainly," he said, and Ribsky seemed more like a statue than anything else.  Timothy knew that the ending to his quest was the beginning of the man's bout with grief.

"My husband died thinking of this.  He knew more than I'm saying, but I don't think it's necessary, because I have the sense that you know it all, as well."

"Yes, I do," Timothy said.

"He died thinking of it.  And when I say that, I mean it.  You see, Ben died at his own hand.  He used his service revolved and shot himself."

Jack immediately got up, and raced to the door and out of the house, and Timothy, not wanting to dart out and desert the woman after her admission, said, "I'm so very sorry, and ya must understand if I have to go.  Ya see, Mr. Ribsky's wife died eight days ago, and it was suicide.  Can ya excuse me, please?"  He stood.

"Of course.  It's amazing how many people that monster was able to destroy, without hardly trying."

Timothy nodded, taking her hand and covering it with his other.  He said, "I must go.  Do ya need me to return?"

She said, "No," her tears spilling over.  "No. I'm fine, and glad that I can finally get this off my soul."

He nodded and went outside.

"Jack, wait," Timothy called after the detective, who was racing in the opposite direction of the car.  "Where are ya going?"

"I just gotta go, wherever.  Let me go, Broderick."

"Ya can't run from this," he called after him, gaining on him, but not reaching.  There was still a good stretch between them.  But Timothy followed him without fail.  "Running won't help ya.  It will catch up, sooner or later," he huffed.

Finally, Jack stopped, leaning forward with his hands on his knees, and breathing heavily.  Timothy came up beside him, did the same stance, and said, "Where were ya goin'?"

Ribsky looked at Timothy, and his face was streaked with sweat, and now, Timothy saw, tears.  "I don't even know.  I just . . . started walking."

"Ya need to come back to the car, ya do.  Ya have the keys, and I'll be stranded.  I know where ya need to go.  It will fix what ails ya."

He stood.  "And I'm supposed to trust a man who doesn't drink anymore?"

"Ya have to.  Who else is here?"  Timothy said, starting to head back to the car.

Jack Ribsky followed.  When they got to the car, Jack got in, and Timothy did as well.  Ribsky said, "Where to?"

"To Chicago, where ya live.  There's someone ya have to go and see.  It's time, and believe me, it will be an important visit."

***

"Tell me something?  Yeah, sure, Momma," he said, walking to the sitting area.  He started a small fire in the fireplace, and sat down.  

She sat across from him, and folded her hands over her knees.  "I wanted to talk to you . . . about something I did."

He shrugged.  "Okay.  What did you do?"

"I am not sure you remember it.  And I . . .  believe you should know the truth."

"I remember everything, Momma."  It felt so good to mean it.

"How do you know that?"

"I just do.  I remembered the last pieces of it, in Greece.  Funny, that's where I started to remember a couple of years ago."

"It took years for you to remember it all?"

"Yeah, I guess so.  With the captivity and what they did to me there, the PTSD, I guess it compounded it all.  When I first met Blair, I remembered almost nothing about Peter, except the surface bad Dad stuff.  I feel like I've got it all now, somehow."

"I feel I have so many sorries to say."

"You've said them all.  I've already told you what I feel about all that.  There's nothing to be sorry for."

There was a long pause.  "Todd?"

"Yeah, Momma?"

"Do you remember . . . about the sparrows?"

He swallowed.  "Yes."

"I'm . . . sorry.  I was sick, Todd.  Believing it helped me believe there was an escape."

"I know.  But you loved me.  The only person in my first 25 years who did.  Some of the things you taught me actually helped me survive it all."

Her hands shook, and she tried to keep them still.  "I was wrong.  I left you."  Her voice was small and soft.

"You did what you had to.  You were under Mitch's spell, anyway.  You wanted to be free of Peter.  Who wouldn't?"

She didn't address the mention of Mitch.  "Peter wouldn't let me take you, when I went.  I planned to get you back.  Mitch promised, at first, to get you back for me.  Then, something changed, and he told me I'd be able to have you back, soon.  I followed what he said, the lie about my new life.  When I got back, I begged him.  I pleaded.  He finally agreed that he would get you.  A few days later, he said you had died in a car accident.  Shortly after that, Peter came to get me," she took a breath, "and then, the Time of Black."

"You tried," he said.  "Besides, it wasn't all bad, all the time.  When I pleased him, things were okay.  He bought me a lot of stuff.  I got that car, got in college and he footed the bill.  When I messed up . . ."

"Please," she interrupted, "wait."  She seemed to be gathering herself together.  

"I don't have to say more, really, about that.  You know what he was capable of."

"Yes," she said, breaking down.

He watched her cry into her hand, and tenderly said, "Momma, it's okay.  It's all over with."

"It will never be all over with for me," she said.  "I left you there.  With that monster."

Todd felt nothing but pity for her.  "Hey, we all screw up, Momma.  Don't be so hard on yourself.  Laurence had the opportunity to free both of us, and used you, in your weakest time.  If there's anyone to blame, aside from Peter himself, it's him."

She was quiet a moment.  When she could finally talk again, she said, "I jumped.  You fell because of me."

"No, that's not what happened, Momma."

"What do you mean?  It is what happened, I was there.  I jumped off, you called my name, I can still hear it.  Then you lost your footing and fell.  You told me that yourself.  You told Peter and I both."

It's not what happened, Momma.  I looked down, thought you were dead.  Called to you, and you didn't answer.  I didn't want to live anymore, so I let go . . . your son let go of life at seven, and somehow survived . . .

Todd mustered up composure and looked at his mother's face.  She was crying; the tip of her nose was red.  Her eyes were filled with tears, and more were on her cheeks.  She seemed frail and small, and he willfully made a decision, seeing her pain.  "Oh, yeah, that's right.  I forgot.  That is what happened.  But it was a mistake, not because of you, Momma.  I just slipped.  I was just a little kid.  You know how that is."

Blair, standing outside the door, her arms folded over her chest, listened.  She felt water drop from her eyes when she realized her husband was keeping this last truth from his mother, and fully understood why.

"I wasn't well.  I was drunk, often, and on medications.  I wasn't in my right mind," Bitsy said, softly.

"I'd be drunk too, if Peter was my man."

She smiled, but that only gave way to more sobbing.  "He was so bad, Todd.  He was so mean . . . he was just so hateful."

"I know," he said, patting the sofa next to him.  

She got up, and went, sitting beside him.  "I'm sorry for the things he did."

"You can't be sorry for what you're not responsible for.  You have to let go, Momma, like I'm trying to do.  I spent most of my life chasing this monster, either trying to please him, or within myself, or in my dreams or memories.  It's over.  He has no power now, over either of us.  You have to let go, sooner or later."

Bitsy leaned her head against her son, and shut her eyes, a few last tears springing from them.  She said, "Then I'll try."  Both were quiet for a few moments.  She said, "I am so happy that I found you again, and that I could get well enough to be with you and your family, Todd.  It's the happiest thing in my whole life, being with you all."  She sniffled.

He wanted to cry with her, but instead, he said, "Hey, don't be getting tears or nose stuff on my shirt," and gently touched the top of her head.

"I won't."

"Now, I should tell you . . ." he stopped.

"Yes, what is it?  I want to hear, whatever it is."

"I just wanted to say . . . I wanted to thank you, Momma, for trying to be there for me."

"I didn't do a very good job, Todd," she said, continuing to cry.

"You did, Momma.  You did the best you could, and that's all anyone could do.  So, thank you," he said.  He put his arms around her.

She hugged her son, her head turned on his chest like a child.  He found himself comforting her.  Blair studied him, as he held strong.  Turning his head, he caught her eyes, as she cried but smiled, with her hands to her lips, as if in prayer.

He nodded once to his wife, and turned back to his mother, disengaging their hug.  Bitsy wiped under her eyes, and said, "Well, I'm relieved you're home, and in one piece.  When she ran after you, I knew Blair would make sure you were all right, Todd."  She turned to her daughter-in-law.  "Blair, I'm so grateful that you are The One.  I knew it when I first saw you, when I didn't know who I was.  Remember?"

She smiled and walked to the woman, putting her arms around her, and they embraced, as Todd stood, shoving his hands into his front pants' pockets, awkwardly, but with a sure and satisfied look on his face.

Bitsy said, after letting go of Blair, "Well, I'm going down to help with the kids.  You've both been flying for hours.  You should rest before Family Night."

"Thanks, Momma," Todd said, as she left.  As she walked out, Todd watched her go, and Blair watched him.  Then, she sat beside him on the couch.  It was quiet for a few moments, as he gazed into the fire.  She said, "You know, a girl can tell a lot from how a man treats his mother."

"She can, huh?"

"Yep.  What you did for her tonight was beautiful, Todd."

He smiled modestly, and interwove his fingers with her.  "You heard?"

She nodded.

He looked at Blair, and shrugged.  "She's my mother.  The only one I knew."

"I know.  I know, Todd."

"She knows, though."

"What?"

"That you're the one.  You've always been the one.  She knows."

"And you're mine," she said, embracing him.  "I'm so proud of you, and to be your wife."

His eyes moistened.  "Proud enough to hit the old tub?"

"You know it.  I love you," she said, kissing his cheek, and then opening her blouse before heading to the bathroom, backward, their hands still joined.

He followed her.

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Chasing the Monsters: 65

"How did ya find the place?"  Timothy asked Ribsky, who was in the driver's seat.

"I contacted some old chums.  Most didn't know a thing, or maybe didn't want to.  The last one finally ran a DMV for me in all the surrounding states.  So here he is, in Ohio, and what a small, quiet town."

"He wanted to disappear, ya say?"

"Seems like he did.  Which makes me think more than ever he's in on this.  Otherwise, why bother?"

"Likely he wanted to fade away, and if so, he may be guilty.  Could be.  But how will ya ever get him to own up to it?"

"Not sure," Ribsky said, getting out of the car, "but I'm going to try like Hell."

Timothy also got out.  It was a quiet, suburban neighborhood, not unlike the street where Peter Manning's house was.  He swallowed, thinking of it again: the dark cellar, his son, shot, Blair, crying, Bitsy, holding Ray . . .

They walked to the first small house, and Ribsky knocked.  "Excuse me, sorry to disturb you.  I'm looking for the Miller house?"

"Three down, on the left," the woman said, and promptly closed the door.

Ribsky reacted with a slight pull-back.  He looked at Timothy.  "Well, a little uptight, maybe."

"Just a bit," he agreed.  They headed back to the car.  "Shall we walk, Mate?"

"We can, if you want to."

Both older men headed down the street, according to the directions provided by the woman at the door.  The sun was high in the sky, and both of them labored a bit.  Timothy said, slightly out of breath, "I suppose we should have driven, eh?"

"Maybe.  It's not much further."

They continued on.  Then, Ribsky stopped, a short way from the slate path leading to the doorway.

Timothy said, "Is there something . . ."

"Thinking of what to say.  The man was my mentor, my idol at the time.  I hung on his every word."

"Was he a good man?"

"Seemed to be, at least then."

"Are ya having second thoughts, then?

"No."  He looked at the door.  "I've gotta do this.  Maybe he didn't do anything himself, but knows something.  Whatever it is, I have to find out."

***

Todd and the boys were in the living room, with Jewel, sleeping on his chest.  The pizza was all but gone, and Jack and Jenna were snuggling on the couch.  Todd said, "Time for bed for the little ones," he said, carefully standing up and cradling Jewel lovingly.  Ray ran away, and Sam said, "I'll get him, Dad," and went after him.

Todd looked at his oldest son and said, "Hey, not too much longer.  Jenna has to get home."

"Okay, Dad."

"Williams can drive you, if you want."

"Can we copter?  Jenna loves it."

"Sure," he said, "just not too late, okay?"

"Okay, Dad.  Should I tell Perzno?"

"Yep."  He went up to the second level.  Sam and Ray ran after him.  Ray said, "Dad, when I grow up, will I be big?"

"Yeah, you will."

"Can I be wike you, Dad?"

"Yep, you can, if you want to."

"Okay!"  He raced to his room and changed into his pajamas.

Sam went to his room, and did the same.

Bitsy, who had retired earlier so she could paint, stuck her head out of her room.  "Todd?  Can I help put the children down?"

"Yeah, sure, Momma.  Blair's on teen duty.  She's cleaning up the kitchen and watching those two."

"Well, let me help, then.  I love putting them to bed," she said, taking Jewel from him.

Todd watched her go, and went to Sam's room.  He said, "Hey."

"Hey, Dad.  Thanks for helping me with the Zeus thing."

"You helped yourself.  You really are growing up."

"Well, you went all the way there, to tell him to leave me alone, right Dad?"

"Yeah," Todd said.  He couldn't break Sam's heart by telling him the truth about his trek to Greece.

"Well, thanks!"  he said, "Night."

"Night, Sam," he said, and went to the bedroom to start a bath for them.  

He didn't realize she'd followed, but Bitsy was at the door.  "Todd?"

"Hey, Momma, what's up?"

"Todd, can I come in?  I want to talk to you.  Are you all right?"

"Yes, Momma, I'm fine."

"The way you ran off, I was . . . afraid . . ."

"I'm okay, Momma.  I'm not Peter's son, and I have no need to be acting like it anymore."

"Well, I know," Bitsy said, "you never were.  You bucked him from the start.  Even as a baby.  Something in you, was . . . well, rebelling from day one."

"He had me, at one point.  I wanted to be accepted by him more than anything when I was a senior in high school and then in college.  But it was all a lie.  Everything about me, wasn't the real me, I guess.  Maybe I was trying to prove something, and at the same time, trying to deal with my rage.  Whatever it is, it's done, Momma."

She smiled, tears, welling in her eyes as well, and walked closer to him.  "I'm glad.  So many times, I prayed you wouldn't think the way he treated us was the way to treat people."

He breathed in and out, and said, "I think I was confused along the way.  Not anymore, though."

"Yes, I know.  You're a father, Todd, and these children are so filled with love for you that you can't do anything but let them know they're right for it.  And they are, my son, they very much are.  And that's why . . . I need to tell you something."

***

Ribsky rang the doorbell, and a woman answered.  She was, Timothy estimated, about ten years older than Jack, and seemed sullen.  She said, "Yes?"

Ribsky said, "Tricia, don't you remember me?"

She squinted, and slight recognition passed over her face.  "You look familiar."

"It's been a lot of years," he said, "It's Jack Ribsky, I was Ben's partner, for a short time, a long time ago."

She turned and walked away from the door, leaving it open.  Timothy and Jack took it as a sign that she was inviting them to follow, so they did.

The house was modestly decorated, with family photos along one wall: Ben, in his police uniform, graced many of them, and Tricia, at different stages of her life; two young families, complete with children; Tricia and Ben on vacation.  She sat on the chair, and they both sat on the couch across from her.  She said, "What is this about?"

Jack found her response odd, and Timothy said, "Well, if ya don't mind, Mrs. Miller, we would like to speak to y'ar husband."

"I'm afraid that won't be happening," she said.

"Tricia, it's important.  I have to find out . . . I have to talk to Ben about something.  A case, from a while back."

"I know, and I'm pretty sure which case," she said, looking to her hands.

Again, both men were puzzled.  "If he's not here, we can surely come back," Timothy said, "or ya can tell us where to find him, and we'll be on our way."

"Hmf.  Find him," she said, pulling her sweater closed, as if a chill passed over her.

Jack took a risk.  "Is he missing?"

"Missing?" she paused.  "He's dead."

Timothy saw Jack's reaction out of the corner of his eye, and said, "Oh, goodness, we weren't aware.  We're very sorry, we are."

"It hasn't been long," she said.  Her affect was flat.  "He's been dead three months."

"Tricia, I'm sorry to bring up any painful memories," Jack said.  "We just needed some answers . . . I . . ." Jack's voice trailed off, and Timothy took the lead.

"We had come to find out about a specific case, and we won't be keeping ya," Timothy started to rise from the sofa.

"A specific case.  As I said, I'm pretty certain which one.  We watched the news, both of us.  We kept up with things from Chicago.  He obsessed that this day would come, expecting it, and so did I."

Timothy slowly sat back down.  He said, "Do ya have something ya want to say to us?"  Jack was there, but unable to speak.  Timothy understood, and pushed forward.

"It's about Peter Manning, isn't it?" she announced.

Jack nodded, and Timothy said, "Yes.  Y'all have to excuse Mr. Ribsky, he just lost his wife.  Last week."

She looked to Jack and said, "I'm sorry for your loss.  It's very hard . . ." she slightly faltered, but Timothy was amazed at how she had kept a porcelain sheen over her emotions the entire time, and the only crack, thus far, was what he just saw in her offering her condolences.

"Mrs. Miller," he started.

"Call me Tricia," she said.

"Then ya must call me Timothy," he offered his hand.

"You're Irish, or Scottish, I can't tell which anymore."

"Irish, born and bred."

"My family, as well."

He let the pleasantries fade between them, and then said, "What did ya want to say?"

"This is about Peter Manning, isn't it?" she repeated.

"Yes."

"Well, Ben was waiting for this day, and not happily.  It haunted him every day for years.  He left the force years back, and we sort of lived in hiding ever since.  He was afraid . . . he feared this day would come.  He could never have lived through jail time, or even a scandal."

"I see."

"When we were first married, Ben did everything to keep me happy.  This included buying me everything I wanted, without care or concern for the expense."

Jack suddenly came to life, "You were always beautifully dressed.  I remember."

"Yes.  Well, there came a time when we were about to lose everything.  Bankruptcy.  He didn't tell me.  We were to lose our home, the one my family left to me, that we lived in.  He'd accrued too many bills, and was scrambling to keep it quiet.  I'm sure you know what's next?"

"Ya need to fill us in, if ya can," Timothy kindly prodded.

She sighed, getting up and walking around the room.  Both men had their eyes glued to her.  "He met someone, a man, a business man.  This man offered him a great deal of money."

"Where did he meet him?" Timothy asked.

"On a case.  Suspicion of child abuse.  It was reported by a teacher.  A child in her class . . . unsettling drawings.  Ben was sent to . . . that house.  He was sent away, the first time, because of a technicality with a warrant.  When he returned, Peter Manning had done his research and knew the trouble that Ben was in, got him talking."

Timothy could imagine the scene; he had a clear picture of "Calvin" in his mind.  For a reason unknown to him, that was the name that stuck and resonated with Peter every time he thought of it; a human falsehood, a name associated with an emptiness . . .

His thoughts were interrupted by her voice, "The long and short of it was that Ben was to look the other way.  If he did, Manning would rescue the home from foreclosure, and pay him handsomely.  He agreed, as Manning explained that he was just disciplining the boy, and  was a wretched and spiteful bad seed with terrible behavior.  This of course was not the end of it.  He was continually assigned to the Manning case, throughout the years, and was paid handsomely.  He told me . . . his excuse was winning at gambling."

Jack said, "Is he the one who . . . took the 9 -1 -1 calls from the boy?"

"Yes.  The director got a kick back for filtering the calls.  The dispatcher was threatened with being fired.  She only knew that a certain officer had to take the case incidents.  Ben was the man on the phone."

Timothy sighed out.  It was over.  At least, for Todd.  There was no grand conspiracy beyond the director, Molly and Ben Miller, who systematically had kept Todd and his mother in torture for years.  He said, "Those are the answers we sought.  Ya see, the boy is my adoptive son."

"My God.  He lived there until high school was over, with Manning.  In fact, Ben was the arresting officer when he tried to kill his father.  I believe he was fourteen.  I'll have you know, Ben told me nothing of all this until much later in life.  Every detail, repeatedly.  He kept it all a secret until last year, when we read that Peter Manning had someone's baby."

"That someone was my son and his wife," Timothy said.

"I'm sorry.  Then, Ben knew it was coming, and he told me all of it,. every day, over and over.  He'd been plagued with it for years.  He let me in on small fragments of it, but when the dam burst, finally, it was as if he couldn't stop talking.  Most of the end of his life was spent rehashing all of it.  And I heard every moment."

Timothy swallowed.  Should he press on?  What further answers did he hope to gather?  "When he was fourteen, then.  Ben was the arresting officer."

"Yes.  He knew why Todd tried to kill that man.  He told me right out what it was.  And he lived with the disgusting truth of it, for years, if you want to call it living."

Timothy swallowed.  "So did my boy."

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