PREVIOUSLY

Todd turned away so the other man couldn’t see his face. “Don’t worry, Doyle,” he said bitterly, “there won’t be any more emotional outbursts from me." Drawing in a shaky breath he said, “Just leave me alone.” Recognizing that his charge was in one of his moods, Doyle retreated out the door. Trembling, Todd moved to his bunk and sat down. Pulling Mr. Rabbit out from his hiding place under the pillow he crushed him to his chest, staring at the floor with tears in his eyes.

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John Sykes let the box of law books fall heavily onto the marred desktop. As he looked around the cramped office, his nose wrinkled at the smell of new paint. “You’ve got to be kidding, Counselor,” he said in disgust. Téa struggled through the door with a box of various files and supplies, rolling her eyes at her companion’s obvious disdain for her new place of business. He turned toward her with his fists planted firmly on his hips. “It’s one thing to give up a job you were good at, that was made for you, for an advancement. But for this? To put the lowlifes we cops work so hard to catch back on the streets? To work in a building that was a crack house a few months ago?” Stepping forward, he grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. “Téa, please rethink this! If you won’t go back to the DA’s office, at least apply to one of the big firms in town. I thought that’s what you wanted.” Téa shrugged away, trying to hide her annoyance.

“Todd said something similar to me not too long ago,” she said. Turning away, she didn’t see the cold fury in the detective’s eyes at the mention of her ex-husband. “But things have changed now. I don’t need the big office in a fancy firm to feel good about myself anymore.” She looked around the small, airless room and her eyes lit up with joy. “This is what I want, John. Can’t you understand that? I want to make a difference, to help people who are in trouble and have no where else to turn. If you care about me, you’ll support me in this.” Sykes clicked his tongue as he surveyed the ugly bare walls.

Sighing, he said, “OK, you can have your little free law clinic. But do you have to set up shop in such a horrible old building? Surely there must have been something available downtown.”

“The people I’m trying to reach wouldn’t feel comfortable there, John. I want to be here in Angel Square, and I want something modest. This fits the bill perfectly.”

“It could be dangerous, Téa. This is a rough neighborhood.”

“Then I’ll just have to keep my eyes wide open.” She walked to the desk and started to unpack the box she had brought, breathing through her mouth to control her temper. She hated it when Sykes treated her like a child. Softening a bit, he moved up behind her as she withdrew an item from the box and placed it on the desk without looking at it.

“Look, Téa, I’m sorry for being such a worrier, but….” Téa turned around to see what had caused him to pause, and found him staring angrily at the object on the desk, his eyes bugging out wildly. It was a framed photograph of Todd with Starr that she had kept on her desk during her marriage. It had been stored in a bottom drawer at the DA’s office, and she had thrown it carelessly in a box with some other items when she had cleaned out her desk. Picking it up, she looked at it wistfully for a moment, then quickly put it back in the storage box.

“I guess I won’t be needing that anymore,” she said, laughing to cover her discomfort. Sykes looked at her through narrowed eyes.

“He’s the reason for all this, isn’t he?” he asked in a quiet, but menacing voice. “You somehow feel guilty for putting him away, so you’ve decided to become a defense attorney again. You think that by defending scum you can win him back?” Téa turned around, furious.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, and you certainly know nothing about me if you think there is the slightest chance I want Todd Manning back in my life! It’s just an old picture, John! Get over it! I certainly have!” She turned away abruptly, breathing hard. Sykes stepped up behind her, gently caressing her arms and murmuring in her ear.

“I could help you forget him, you know,” he whispered, “if you’d only let me show you.” He nibbled at her earlobe, and wrapped his arms around her torso. Slowly, his hand slid up toward her breast. Téa started and pulled quickly away, leaving Sykes frustrated.

“I’ve told you I will get over Todd in my own way and in my own time, John,” she said, tears beginning to fill up her beautiful brown eyes. “I’m not ready to take our relationship to the next level, and if you can’t understand that, then maybe we shouldn’t spend time together anymore!”

“How much more time do you need, Téa? I’ve been extraordinarily patient!” he spat. He began pacing around the small office, patting nervously at his thinning hair. “Look, this is the perfect opportunity to make a clean break and cut that bottom dweller out of your life forever. He's locked up and you’re out here trying to make a new life for yourself. You’ve taken care of the professional side,” he said, gesturing at the amenities. “Why not let me take care of the personal?” He reached for her and hungrily pressed his lips to hers. Téa tried to relax and let herself respond to the kiss, but after a minute or two, it became clear that it just wasn’t happening for her. She pulled away abruptly, wiping her mouth with the back of hand.

“I think you should go,” she said, turning her back. The detective shook with fury. He took a step toward Téa, then stopped, clenching and unclenching his hands.

“Fine,” he growled. “But I won’t wait around forever, Téa. And if you think a few laughs and a couple of dinners are all it’s going to take to satisfy your needs, I suggest you take a good hard look at yourself.” He stormed through the door, slamming it loudly behind him. Téa stared after him, trembling.

Outside in the corridor, Sykes kicked over several trashcans, venting his rage. So, Téa thought she could play him for a fool? She wanted to get over Manning in her own way? Well, Sykes was going to help her along. He knew there was some big, dark secret that everyone around Manning, including Téa, was keeping to him or herself. Even Commissioner Buchanan had refused to provide any details, saying only that it involved some boyhood trauma that had only recently come to light. Inwardly, Sykes vowed to leave no stone unturned in his quest to possess Téa. He would dig up Manning’s secret, using any means necessary, and then he’d use it to put his rival out of the way--permanently. “Enjoy the nice, cozy little jail, Manning,” he mumbled to himself as he sullenly stomped down the stairs. “From now on, it’s the only home you’re going to know.”

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Todd trembled slightly as he waited outside the commissioner’s office with Doyle. He took deep breaths in an effort to calm down, but he felt himself teetering dangerously on the edge of a full-blown meltdown. He had just finished a visit with Starr where he had received the disappointing news from Blair that she was taking the little girl on a vacation to the West Coast and Hawaii. Todd had tried to hide his distress from his daughter, since she was so obviously excited about the trip, but the prospect of spending the next three weeks in jail without a visit or phone call from Starr was hard to bear.

It was now two weeks since what he couldn’t help thinking of as his abandonment by Téa, although his sister Viki had done her utmost to try and convince him that his ex-wife just needed some time to regroup and sort out her feelings. Whatever it was called, he missed Téa deeply, and every day that went by seemed longer as a result of her absence in his life. He spent long hours thinking of her: the beautiful smile, seductive figure, soft skin. Losing her was like losing a part of himself, and he took his frustration out on everyone around him. He was more irritable than usual, and even Susannah had lost patience with him a few times in the last weeks.

Then Doyle had announced that Commissioner Buchanan had asked to see him in his office. For Todd, it was almost the last straw to his fragile self-control, because he was sure the interview meant more bad news. Deep in the back of his mind, he mulled over his greatest fear: that Bo had discovered some way to extend his sentence. Although the commissioner claimed to believe his description of events the night of his fourteenth birthday, Todd worried constantly that he would still be charged in the murder of Michelle Phelps. Beyond that, his disappointment in his relationship with Téa had caused him to be particularly surly with his guards during the last weeks, and his blood ran cold at the thought that he might have earned himself additional time on his term. Todd knew the blow of extra jail time would about finish him off, and his nervousness increased as Bo kept him waiting in the corridor. At the very least, he would have to endure a reprimand from the sanctimonious commissioner, liberally spiced with sharp taunts. Not something to look forward to under any circumstances, but especially not when he felt so close to the edge.

He brought up his chained hands to wipe at the sweat beading his brow, jumping when Bo’s voice finally called for them to enter. Todd fixed his face with a scowl and marched through the door. “Wait outside please, Doyle,” said Bo, not looking up from the pile of work on his desk. Todd satisfied himself with a quick glance at the window, although he wanted to rush over and drink in the sight of everything he had been denied for the past four months. He planted himself in front of the commissioner, waiting impatiently as Bo looked over some documents. Finally, Todd couldn’t take the waiting anymore.

“Let’s hear it, Bo. What lame excuse are you going to use to stick it to me this time?”

“What are you talking about, Manning?” said Bo, still looking down.

“Oh, cut the innocent act,” spat Todd. “I’m not stupid. I’ve served two thirds of my sentence and now you’re about to yank the rug out from under me with some trumped-up reason for keeping me behind bars longer.”

“Huh?” said Bo, looking up in confusion. “Manning, who gave you the impression your sentence was being extended?” Todd stared into his eyes for a moment, assessing him.

“All right, then you can spare me a lecture on manners, Commissioner. If your big, bad policemen can’t take a little criticism, then they should just leave me alone.”

Bo shook his head back and forth. “Manning, you are making less sense than usual. What’s with you today?”

“Look, quit toying with me!” shouted Todd. “Just tell me why I’m here!”

“I’d be happy to, if you can control your paranoia for a second,” said Bo, clearly irritated. He rummaged through some piles of papers, finally pulling one free. Looking it over, he said, “It’s just that your sentence is up tomorrow, and I wanted to make sure that you are clear on the terms of your release.”

Todd stepped back as though he had been slapped, staring wide-eyed at the man behind the desk. After a long pause, he croaked, “What did you say?”

“I want to make sure…”

“No! Not that, the part about my sentence.”

Bo looked over the paper. “Your sentence is complete tomorrow.” He looked up at the prisoner, the hint of a grin on his lips. Todd continued glaring at him for a long moment, then shook his head.

“I have to hand it to you, Bo. You’re good. Even I didn’t see that one coming.” He hardened his gaze. “Only you would be sick enough to dangle my freedom in front of my face and then yank it back. We both know I have two months left to serve.” Todd looked toward the window, hoping to hide how much Bo had succeeded in rattling him.

The commissioner chuckled. “I thought an experienced con like you would know the ropes, Manning. Surely you’ve heard of time off for good behavior.”

Todd flicked his glance back to his tormentor. “Good behavior? Me? Now I know you’re joking.”

“Well, lucky for you, Manning, the Department of Corrections doesn’t count temper tantrums and nasty words when considering time off. What they do pay attention to is compliance to the rules, obedience to orders, and the lack of any major resistance on the part of the prisoner. You qualify on all counts.” He looked down at the paper, then said, “You’ve got two years of probation, so you need to meet with your probation officer right away to set up the parameters, and comply with any restrictions placed upon you. You must continue therapy with Dr. Susannah Hannen. If you miss even one appointment with either your probation officer or your therapist, you could be considered out of compliance with the terms of your release and be remanded back to custody for the rest of your suspended sentence. Do you understand these terms?” The prisoner nodded. Continuing, the commissioner said, “I’ve heard nothing further from the Chicago police, so although the Phelps case is still technically open, unless any new evidence surfaces, I think you’re off the hook.” Bo held out the paper, and Todd took it with his cuffed hands and looked it over. Slowly, he lowered it and looked up at the commissioner.

“I can’t believe you’ll let me out of here even one day early, Bo,” he said in a barely controlled voice. “Aren’t you going to fight this? Come up with some excuse to keep me locked up?”

“I guess I can’t blame you for thinking that, Todd,” said Bo, leaning back in his chair. “I made things pretty hard on you, I’ll admit. But you took everything I threw at you, and still managed to keep it together. I’ve seen you working on your problems with Susannah, even though it can’t be pleasant, and you handled that mess with Sykes better than I ever dreamed.” Bo looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. “And maybe I understand a little more about you than I ever have before.” He fidgeted with some papers. “So, the bottom line is I’m willing to cut you some slack. You’re out of here tomorrow.”

“Well, I won’t believe it until I’m outside on the sidewalk, and even then I’ll be looking over my shoulder for the first few blocks,” said Todd, handing back the paper. Although he still had fears it was all a trick, inside his heart the carefully banked spark of hope leapt up into full flame. Looking at his eyes, Bo got a glimpse of unrestrained joy.

“Ten o’clock tomorrow morning, I’ll make a believer out of you, Manning.” Bo called for the guard and Doyle opened the door, waiting for the prisoner. Todd turned on his heel and headed for the door. Suddenly he stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

“Uh, Bo?” he said uncertainly. “Thanks.”

“You can show your gratitude by making this the last time I see you locked up in my jail, Manning,” said Bo gruffly, and Todd continued into the corridor. He stood staring wide-eyed at Doyle as he closed the door.

“Todd, are you all right?” said the policeman with concern.

“Don’t I look all right?” asked Todd, an unreadable expression on his face.

“No, you look like you’re going to be sick,” said Doyle.

“Well, get used to it, Doyle, because this is what Todd Manning looks like when he’s happy,” said Todd, still not cracking a smile. “No, make that downright elated,” he said, turning toward the staircase to the basement. “Hurry up, Doyle,” he called over his shoulder when the guard stood staring after him. “I’ve got a craving for some of that yummy mystery meat. Figures I’d develop a taste for it now.” The policeman shrugged his shoulders and followed after his prisoner, wondering if he’d finally lost his mind.

TO BE CONTINUED IN THE SERIES "LIMBO"

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