HELL - PART TWO

HELL - PART TWO

PREVIOUSLY

“You win, Bo,” he choked out. “You’ve got me in your power to punish as you see fit with the whole town cheering you on. Go on and gloat all you want.” His eyes hardened as he recovered his inner strength a bit. “But don’t flatter yourself. You are an amateur compared to my old man when it comes to dishing out punishment. You won’t break me, and someday I’ll get out of here. Then we’ll see if you still have the guts to make your point when I’m not in chains.” His voice took on the quality of a low growl. “And when you’re sitting up here all high and mighty congratulating yourself on what a great cop you are, remember one thing: you are a hypocrite—the worst kind. Because you can’t call this justice. It’s revenge, pure and simple. Face it, Bo, we are more alike than you’d like to admit.”

The door closed behind him and Bo stood staring at it, his chest heaving. Suddenly, his hand shot out and he grabbed a coffee mug that said “The Commish.” He threw it at the door with all his strength and watched as it broke in a million pieces, showering the carpet where Todd Manning had just been.

*************************************************************************************************************

Todd had served ten days of his sentence when the guard announced he had a visitor. Bo had let Todd sweat it out for five long days, making sure he had the lousiest food and the nastiest guards possible. Worst of all, he hadn’t been allowed out of his claustrophobic cell even once, not even to spend a few minutes in the closet-sized room containing an old stationary bicycle and a few dumbbells that passed as a recreation room. Finally, early on a Monday morning, he had been brought up to a conference room and allowed a long therapy session with his psychiatrist. He had had two more hour-long consultations with Susannah during the week, and a quick ten-minute visit with Sam. Now as he trudged up the stairs to the squad room, he wondered if he would have to endure analysis yet again. While he was grateful for the brief respite from his small jail cell, the sessions were hard on him, and he often paced restlessly for hours in an attempt to calm down afterwards.

His guard that morning was Officer Bill Doyle, an easy-going cop who was on temporary guard duty while he was dealing with a nasty divorce and custody battle. He and Todd were about the same age and had the added bond of having daughters in the same grade at school. Doyle hated the high security lock-up almost as much as the man he was assigned to guard, and since they were alone most of the time, it was only natural that they’d strike up a stilted conversation once in while. As he watched Todd dealing on a daily basis with the loneliness and isolation of solitary confinement, Doyle couldn’t help feeling a bit sympathetic toward him. He liked his charge’s self-deprecating sense of humor and was willing to cut him some slack when the pressure of his situation caused him to be irritable and likely to make cutting wisecracks. As for the discipline he was forced to impose on the other man, Doyle had always believed in asking for compliance, rather than demanding it. He made it clear that he would tolerate no resistance from his prisoner, but in return for cooperation, he gave him the respect that was sorely lacking in any of his other keepers.

They were almost to the visiting room when a childish voice brought them both up short. “Daddy!” shouted Starr, breaking free from her mother and rushing through the barrier toward her father. Todd’s eyes lit up at the sight of the little girl and he quickly squatted down so she could easily fling her arms around his neck. He held his hands down away from her, hoping to hide the handcuffs binding his wrists. Starr pulled away from him, a big grin on her face. “I missed you, Daddy,” she said, displaying a gap where one of her front teeth was missing. “Is jail really icky?” A lot of the policemen stopped working and watched the scene, attracted to the adorable child in spite of their animosity toward the man in the blue prison uniform.

“Yeah, it’s pretty icky, Shorty,” said Todd easily, “especially when you’re not here.” A perceptive child, Starr noticed something wasn’t quite right.

Commissioner Bo Buchanan rounded the corner just in time to hear her ask, “Why aren’t you hugging me, Daddy?” Her eyes dropped to her father’s hands and she gasped as she saw the handcuffs. Wide-eyed, she reached out and ran her fingers over them. “Do they hurt?” she asked in a whisper. Todd shook his head, although he was having a hard time keeping control of his emotions. Officer Doyle leaned down to talk to the little girl.

“Miss…Starr, isn’t it? Why don’t you let me take your Daddy to the visiting room so I can take these bracelets off of him? Then you can come see him and you can have as many hugs as you want.”

“OK,” said Starr in a matter of fact tone, seeming oblivious to the tension in the adults around her. “See you in a few minutes, Daddy,” she said as she skipped back to Blair in the waiting area. Todd stood up and walked toward the conference room with a rigidly controlled expression on his face, followed by Doyle. The commissioner stared after them, then looked again at the little girl. Bo hated Todd, but he felt the tiniest twinge of sympathy for him. No man wanted his child to see him in chains, a reviled prisoner. He hadn’t carried through on his threat to keep them apart, mostly because it made him feel petty and small to use a child to hurt her father. Bo turned to his office, making a mental note to commend Doyle for his deft handling of a sticky situation.

………………………………………………………………………………………………..............................................................................................................................................................

As his all too short visit with Starr ended, Officer Doyle allowed Todd to carry his daughter in his arms out to the waiting area to return her to her mother. The little girl continued to prattle brightly about various friends and activities. Finally, Todd had to kiss her goodbye. “I’ll see you next week, OK Shorty?” he said evenly, hoping he was hiding how much it hurt him to let her go.

“OK, Daddy,” she smiled back. “Mommy said we can get some dresses for Mr. Rabbit so you can play dress-up with him.”

Todd looked at his daughter with unrestrained affection. “Thanks for thinking about me, Kiddo, but Mr. Rabbit is a guy, and guys don’t wear dresses.”

Starr looked confused. “Some guys do, Daddy,” she said stubbornly.

“Oh? And where did you get that idea?”

Starr pointed. “That man is wearing a dress.” She indicated a desk where a policeman was booking a male transvestite hooker. Doyle pretended to cough loudly to cover his laughter. Todd bit his lower lip and managed to confine his smile to his eyes.

“Uh…yeah. Do me a favor and don’t tell your mother where you got the idea to get Mr. Rabbit a dress, OK?” Starr nodded conspiratorially as Todd reluctantly handed her over to Blair. Leaning over, he whispered in her ear, “Just between us, I think old Bunnykins would prefer some jeans and a snazzy blazer.” He gave her a quick wink.

“How’re you getting along, Todd?” asked Blair politely.

“Just great Blair,” he answered, dripping in sarcasm. “Who needs Club Med when you’ve got the Llanview PD just itching to serve your every need? I’ll never go on a regular vacation again.”

Blair looked annoyed. “I’m so glad you appreciate how much rearranging of my schedule it took to bring Starr here, Todd. If you’re lucky, I might do it again.” Todd looked chastened as she turned toward the door, towing Starr by the hand. The little girl stopped and waved vigorously at her father.

“Bye, Daddy!” she shouted as Todd waved back. “And bye, Officer Dork!” Todd couldn’t help snickering as Doyle shot an annoyed glance his way.

“So long, Miss Manning,” he called after her. Todd stood staring at the empty door where his beloved daughter had just been until he felt Doyle slip the handcuff around his left wrist.

“Oh, c’mon, Doyle!” he said in exasperation. “Do we have to do this? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not currently staging a jailbreak. I hate these things.”

“Rules, Manning, you know that,” he said bringing up Todd’s other wrist and snapping on the restraint. “Back downstairs. You know the way.” With a tired sigh, Todd turned toward the stairs. Having his head down, he didn’t see the person in his path and bumped into a slight figure, almost causing her to drop the file she had been reading. She looked up.

“Todd,” she said in surprise.

“Téa,” he answered, equally taken aback. A long, awkward silence descended between them. Doyle, who was aware of their past relationship, backed off slightly, giving them privacy if they needed it. Looking at Todd, Téa had to remind herself that he had done this to himself and that the sorry state she found him in was not her fault. The guilty feeling was hard to ignore as she moved her eyes up and down his lanky body. She noted the wrinkled prison clothes with the additional humiliation of a stenciled convict ID number over the breast pocket, and the manacles that seemed such an affront to the proud man she had married. The sadness in his eyes was hard to bear.

“How’s it going?” she stammered, realizing she had asked a stupid question.

He shrugged. “I’m not drooling or talking to myself yet,” he said lightly.

“But they’re not torturing you or anything?” she asked uncomfortably.

“Yeah, they are. But that’s the whole idea behind punishment, Delgado. Make ‘em suffer.” During his days in solitary, Todd had spent a lot of time trying to whip himself into a frenzy of anger toward Téa for putting him there. But now that she was standing right in front of him, he found he was just so darned glad to see her that any animosity he felt was completely forgotten. She looked beautiful in a red power suit. “How about you?” he asked. “Still sending joy-riding kids up the river to be girlfriends for Bubba the Biker?”

“Todd!” said Téa, looking embarrassed. She noticed the mischievous glint to his eye and was aware of a feeling of relief that he hadn’t lost his sense of humor—yet. “I saw Starr leaving,” she said, quickly changing the subject. “I’m glad you got to see her, Todd.” His stance softened immediately.

“Yeah, Shorty’s great,” he said softly. “It’s amazing. She’s the only one in the world that doesn’t care that her old man is low-life jailbird.” Téa looked uncomfortable again. Todd noticed the take-out cup of coffee in her hands and recognized it was from the espresso shop around the corner. “That coffee smells good,” he said wistfully. “Grande Nonfat Latte, right?”

“Take it,” she ordered, holding it out guiltily. He held up his bound hands to refuse.

“Nah! I don’t like that frou-frou stuff anyway.”

“Right. Plain old black coffee, and lots of it.” They locked eyes, sharing a time when knowing each other’s coffee preferences was just a part of daily life. “Surely they don’t deny you coffee,” she said with concern.

“I wouldn’t insult Juan Valdez by calling that warm dishwater they serve me coffee,” he said with a little heart-stopping grin. Téa was giggling when she was surprised by John Sykes suddenly stepping between them and shoving Todd roughly backward. The detective looked accusingly at Officer Doyle.

“What are you doing letting this piece of crap get that close to ADA Delgado?” he hissed. “Get him back to his cage where he belongs!” Doyle kept his mouth shut but his eyes made it clear what he thought about the over-bearing detective. He gestured to Todd to follow him.

“Wait!” said Téa. “John, don’t blame the officer, or Todd. I wanted to talk to him!” Todd glared at Sykes through narrowed eyes.

“It’s OK, Delgado,” he said with a sneer. “My jail cell suddenly seems so much more attractive than it did a minute ago. See you around.” He walked purposefully toward the door.

“Oh no you won’t, Manning,” called Sykes to his back. “Because I’m going to make it my personal goal to make sure that ADA Delgado never has to lay eyes on you again.” Todd stopped short, seething with anger.

“He’s not worth it,” whispered Doyle, grabbing his arm. “It’s what he wants so he can make it even harder on you.” Taking a deep breath, Todd continued on his path to the door, disappearing without a backward glance. Téa’s eyes were blazing as she turned toward Sykes.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she hissed. “I will speak to or visit whomever I please, John, and that includes Todd Manning. Now stay out of my way, or you’ll learn some new Spanish words—ones that aren’t usually used in polite company.” Sykes stared after her, cursing the hold that Manning still had over the woman he wanted.

The late afternoon sun shining through the frosted window left an enticing rectangle of sunshine on the floor of the cellblock, just out of the reach of the prisoner locked up there. This was his favorite hour of the day, as he easily tolerated the extra heat in exchange for the cheerful light the rays of sun brought to the usual gloom of his current residence. He was seated on the little stool in his cell, frantically writing in a cheap notebook with a yellow pencil. His eyes were almost glazed over as he let the words come naturally and transferred them to print without thinking too much about what he was saying. Susannah could help him with that later. But his intensity must have transferred to his hand somehow, because he was brought up short as the lead tip of the pencil suddenly snapped off. “Great,” he muttered to himself. Now he would have to call the guard and ask him to sharpen it, since he wasn’t allowed so much as a child’s cheap plastic pencil-sharpener. He stared intently at the broken tip of the pencil, contemplating with disgust an existence that made a person want to sell his soul for a 79 cent Bic pen.

His musing was interrupted by the sound of the guard opening the door to the cellblock. Todd watched as Téa walked in and purposefully rounded the corner of his cell, coming to a stop on the other side of the bars in front of him. He slowly set the pencil down, and made a great show of looking toward the door as though expecting someone else. “What are you looking for?” asked Téa, expecting anything but the silence she was receiving at the moment.

“Oh, I’m just looking for your watchdog. You never know when old Syko might rush in here and decide I’ve earned a lethal injection for looking at you.”

“Well, you can relax, Todd,” she said, letting a hard look settle on her face. “John and I have come to an understanding, and he won’t be telling me who I can or can’t see anymore.” She glanced at the open notebook resting on his desk. “What are you doing?” she asked in curiosity. Todd quickly flipped the book closed.

“I’m writing some stuff I remembered about my dad. You know….for my therapist.” He looked embarrassed.

“You’re really taking this therapy stuff seriously, aren’t you?” asked Téa.

“I have no choice, Delgado. It’s been ordered by the court now.”

“And when did you ever care about that before, huh Todd?” she asked with a smile.

He rewarded her with a small grin, standing up and moving to the bunk. “I don’t know. I guess I have nothing better to do these days,” he said. Turning his back on her, he reached for his chambray shirt and quickly threw it on, doing up a couple of buttons. But before he covered himself, Téa had a good look at the tight white T-shirt molded to his well-defined muscles underneath. She took a moment to admire the strength of his body, seemingly undiminished by the forced inactivity of prison. His facial hair had grown out, and he was again shaving it into the goatee that Téa secretly preferred to the clean-shaven look. “Is one of those for me?” he asked, looking at the take-out coffee cups she carried in either hand.

“Oh…uh…yeah,” she said quickly, handing one through the bars and hoping he couldn’t tell what she had been thinking about.

He took the cup appreciatively, glancing at her with his beautiful golden eyes. “I guess you picked up on my subtle hints this morning in the squad room. Thank you.” He sat down on the bunk, and indicated a bench resting against the wall outside his cell. “Can you stay a bit?”

“I guess I can. I’m working on a case, but I could use a short break.” She dragged the bench opposite Todd’s position and sat down, watching as Todd removed the lid to his coffee and put his face in the steam.

“This is good,” he said after taking a sip. “What kind is it?”

“I can’t remember. Sumatran, I think,” she said.

“I’m glad you came by,” he said, obviously getting up the nerve to say something important. “I’ve been thinking about us a lot while I’m in here.” He looked closely at her, trying to judge her reaction. “I tried to convince myself I hated you for putting me in jail, but it’s no good—I can’t do it.” Téa let out the breath she had been holding, feeling a sense of relief.

“I…I don’t hate you, either, Todd,” she said, realizing that was the first time she had let herself admit it.

“But you don’t love me anymore…” he said sadly.

“No,” said Téa quickly. “But is it true?” a little voice asked in her head.

“So, if we don’t hate each other, and we don’t love each other, what do we have left, Delgado? I don’t think you consider me a friend.” Téa shook her head, surprised that Todd was actually willing to talk about feelings. “I was thinking about how we were in the squad room this morning—before Syko had to break in and do his little power trip. You know….just….easy with one another.”

“Yeah. I have to admit it felt good not to fight for once,” admitted Téa.

“So, while I’m in here and after I get out, maybe we could try to be that way together. Not friends, but not enemies either. Just ask politely about life when we run into each other, OK?”

Téa was impressed by how much thought he had put into the subject. “That sounds great, Todd. We’ll stay out of each other’s way, but we don’t have to feel like we need to avoid contact, either.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to go,” she said standing up.

“Does that mean that maybe I can look forward to a few more coffee breaks with you, Delgado?” asked Todd lightly, not wanting her to know how much her answer meant to him.

She stopped at the gate and called the guard. Glancing over her shoulder, she couldn’t help smiling at the man behind bars. “Sure. How could I resist seeing that look of total ecstasy when you open the coffee cup again, Todd?”

He grinned back. “Next time bring a cookie, too. The food in here sucks.”

“I don’t know,” she teased. “I’m not sure I’m willing to take our new truce that far.” She smiled again as she stepped through the gate.

“Just don’t bring any health food,” she heard him call as she walked away down the corridor. “I get tortured enough as it is.” She laughed out loud as she left with a new spring in her step.

TO BE CONTINUED