PREVIOUSLY

After the others had left, Bo sat in his desk chair, overwhelmed by the day’s revelations. Suddenly, he grabbed the phone and quickly dialed in a number. “Hello, Pa?” he said when Asa picked up. “Oh, nothing,” he said feeling tears prick his eyes. “I just wanted to tell you something I haven’t said in a while.” He swallowed hard. “Thanks for being a great dad when I was a kid.”

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

Bo waited as the guard opened the entrance to the high security cells, his eyes on the sheaf of papers in his hand. After years of using any means at his disposal to stick it to Todd Manning, he found it strange that he was actually upset at having to cause him more pain. A few days had passed since the scene in his office and he hoped Todd was strong enough to deal with the new developments. This was the commissioner’s first time visiting the prisoner in his cell since he had begun serving his sentence. Entering through the gate, Bo glanced around at the lack of amenities in the grim location, and realized how hard it must be for someone imprisoned there to allow any hope at all to penetrate the thick walls and heavy bars.

He watched Todd carefully through the bars as he walked slowly past the side of the cell, turned the corner and came to a stop facing him through the door. The prisoner was sitting cross-legged on the bunk, a pillow clutched tightly to his chest. His eyes were locked onto a tiny square of sunlight hitting the floor outside his cell and he stared at it as though fascinated by the dust motes dancing in the shaft of light. Slowly, he moved his gaze to Bo, who was shaken by the haunted look in his eyes. “Commissioner,” he said in a lifeless tone.

“Manning,” answered Bo by way of greeting. “How are you doing?” he asked, wondering if he should have asked Susannah to be present when he gave Todd the news.

Noticing that he was clutching the pillow, Todd set it aside on the bunk. He shrugged. “For fifteen years, I can’t remember something and now it’s like I can’t think of anything else.”

“What does Susannah say?”

“She says it’s normal and will get better over time.” He frowned. “Did you want something or did you just come down here to see if I’d lost my marbles yet?”

Bo fiddled with the papers. “I have some news for you.” He took a deep breath. “I just got off the phone with Detective Frank Nichols of the Chicago Police. After they received my report, the police used infrared imaging to check the backyard of your former home, with the full cooperation of the current owners. Based on the results, they obtained a warrant and began a thorough search of the area.” Todd’s hands slowly moved to his sides and he grabbed two handfuls of the blanket below him, bracing himself. Uncomfortable, Bo looked down at the papers. “Approximately 5 feet from the south and 71 feet from the east property line, they found the badly decomposed remains of what appeared to be a young girl, wrapped in a plastic garbage bag. A large stand of lilacs hampered recovery of the body, which was found at an approximate depth of 5 feet.”

“Oh, God,” groaned Todd, leaning his head back against the cinderblock wall behind him. He looked at the ceiling, breathing deeply. “Up until now, I kept hoping I was wrong…telling myself that maybe she wasn’t dead and she really was on that bus to LA.” He closed his eyes, shaking uncontrollably.

“I know what you mean. I was hoping the same thing.” Bo looked at him closely. “There’s more, Manning, but it can wait if you…”

“Tell me,” snapped Todd.

“Based on preliminary comparisons with dental records, the body was identified as that of Michelle Phelps, reported missing January 3, 1984. DNA tests will be done to confirm the identification.” Todd didn’t change position or make a sound, so Bo continued. “A wooden baseball bat found with the body was transported to the FBI crime lab at Quantico for analysis, given the deterioration caused by fifteen years of burial.” Bo closed the file and looked up at the man facing him in the cell. “Look, Todd, maybe I better just explain the rest instead of reading the police report to you. It gets kind of complicated.”

Todd opened his eyes, but didn’t move. “Go ahead,” he ordered.

“Well, the bat was pretty rotten, but the FBI has some pretty good techniques for recovering evidence. They were able to lift a couple sets of prints off of it, and since your records are readily accessible through the criminal file database, they ran a comparison to your fingerprints.” Bo paused. “There was a positive match.”

“I’ve told you all along the bat was mine, Bo,” said Todd in a barely controlled voice.

“Yes. Well, there were also two partial prints that appear to have been made with the victim’s blood, when the murderer picked up the bat between his thumb and fore-finger like this.” Bo demonstrated with the sheaf of papers. “Some smudges indicate he wiped other blood and prints from the bat, but probably forgot to clean where he had been holding it with his other hand.” He folded his arms over his chest, holding the file behind him. “The bloody fingerprints are definitely not yours, Manning.” Todd let his held breath out slowly. “They’re going to run them against the known criminal files, but it doesn’t appear Peter Manning had a criminal record.”

“Oh no,” said Todd sarcastically. “He was clean as the driven snow.” “Was your old man ever fingerprinted for a government job, or a security clearance?”

“I doubt it. As far as I know, he owned his own business and never answered to anyone.”

“Then it could be difficult to prove the fingerprints are his.” Todd looked at the floor, dejected.

“So now what?” he asked bitterly. “I just sit here and await extradition to Illinois?”

“According to Detective Nichols, given the passage of time since the crime, and the fact that the number one suspect, Peter Manning, is dead, it is unlikely charges will be filed. They may still send a detective out here to interview you and maybe Susannah about the hypnosis. In that case, you have a right to have legal counsel present, just as you do whenever you’re questioned about a crime.” Bo brought the papers around to the front and tapped them lightly against his palm. He looked uncomfortable. “For what it is worth, Manning, I told him I believed your story.” The two men stared at each other in silence. “Will you be all right?” asked Bo. “Shall I call Susannah for you?” he asked, preparing to leave.

“Nah, I’ve already had two therapy sessions today. Even I’m not screwed up enough for another one.”

“Can I get you anything?” asked Bo, surprising himself.

“Yeah. How about a new life? This one sucks,” said Todd with a weary sigh. Bo gave him an amused grin and turned to go. Todd finally moved, putting his feet on the floor and leaning forward to run his fingers through his hair.

“You know, Bo,” he said tentatively, causing the commissioner to stop and turn toward him, “there isn’t much I wouldn’t do to get out of this dump for a few hours.” He swallowed hard, obviously finding it difficult to ask his captor for anything. “Do you cops need your floors scrubbed or anything? A few police cruisers washed and waxed? Live target on the firing range?” Bo laughed out loud, finally finding something Manning had said genuinely funny.

“Sorry, can’t help you there,” he said lightly, “as tempting as that is.” He stared at the prisoner for a moment considering. “Listen, I could have the guards take you over to the main jail recreation room for a while. They’ve got a treadmill—you could work off some tension.”

“But I’ve already had my exercise period today,” said Todd, looking a bit confused.

“Well, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” said Bo, tapping the bars of the barrier to call the guard. Before he went through the gate, Todd moved over to the side of his cell and gripped the bars.

“Listen, Bo, there is something you could do for me. If you see Delgado…ADA Delgado, could you tell her I’d like to see her?” He tried to keep his voice even.

“I’ll give her the message, Manning, but she’s really busy with a big case. I don’t know when she’ll have time, frankly.” There was no mistaking the disappointed look in the prisoner’s eyes and Bo realized he was feeling sorry for him. “Hang in there, Manning,” he said gruffly as he walked through the gate.

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

After they were buzzed through the exit to the jail, Todd was surprised when his guard led him down the corridor leading to the courthouse, instead of to the squad room where he usually received visitors. Judging by the dying light in the window of his cellblock, he knew it was well past visiting hours, and almost time for him to be served the usual mystery meat that passed for dinner most nights. As they emerged from the elevator into the dim and deserted corridors of the courthouse, Todd felt a little shiver up his spine. Something was not right. He looked over the guard closely. The man was short and fat and generally good-natured, and Todd hadn’t experienced any problems with him up to that point. Since he was on guard duty, he was armed only with a nightstick, and given the way he huffed and puffed as they walked along the maze of hallways, Todd was reasonably sure he could out-run him if this turned out to be a set-up. Finally, the cop stopped before a nondescript office door and knocked softly.

Todd relaxed at the sound of a familiar voice. Téa was seated at her desk, barely visible behind the piles of folders and evidence littering the top. She smiled warmly and gestured for the guard to release Todd from the handcuffs. Coming around the desk, she handed over a $20 bill and instructed the policeman to wait in the corridor for a delivery. “Sheesh, Delgado,” said Todd, drawing a shaky breath, “I thought I was headed to a hastily arranged execution, or at least an unpleasant encounter with a rubber hose.”

“Todd, you are so paranoid!” she said rolling her eyes. Softening, she moved a little closer. “How are you doing? I heard about the news from Chicago.” He shuddered and looked at the floor. “All day I’ve been wanting to see you, but I’m swamped with this trial. When Bo told me you were asking for me, I arranged with Officer Franchette to have him bring you over here.” She gave him a guilty grin. “It’s definitely a no-no, so I had to bribe him with a meal. He’s…uh…kind of susceptible to food.”

“I noticed.” Todd sat down on the edge of her desk. “How do you do it, Delgado? You always know exactly what I need, and when.” He folded his arms across his chest and looked up at her as she sat down next to him.

“I wish I could do more, Todd,” she said quietly. “I probably shouldn’t bother telling you this, but I tried talking Hank into going to the judge and asking her to commute your sentence to time served.” She sighed deeply.

“Let me guess. He said to let me rot, but probably not in such polite terms.” He looked at her stricken face. “Thanks, Delgado, but the DA hates me and always will. Don’t expect him to ever give me a break.” Looking around the room at the sparse décor, he said, “So this is where you work. Not exactly the corner office on the top floor that you seemed to want when I first met you.” He turned to face her. “Are you really happy being a prosecutor, Téa?”

She seemed taken aback by his blunt question. “I find the work satisfying,” she said as though trying to convince herself, “and I perform a valuable service to the community, taking criminals off the street.”

“Like that kid you sent away for five years for stealing a couple of cars?” She looked defensive. “You used to be willing to give people another chance,” he said softly, looking at her closely.

“It’s my job,” she snapped, “and I don’t think you’d be too sympathetic if he had his mitts on your beloved Ferrari.” Todd was going to pursue the subject further when there was a knock on the door. The policeman entered, carrying a take-out order from a Chinese restaurant. He set several white containers on the desk, then retreated out the door, already salivating over his own plate. Todd helped Téa clear away a few things, then they sat side by side at the desk, handing containers back and forth companionably as they served the food. Téa noticed after a while that although Todd had served himself a normal amount, he actually was eating very little. “I’m sorry, I thought you liked Chinese food,” she said. “I should have had the guard ask you what you…”

“The food is fine, Téa. I just haven’t had much appetite since…since…”

“I understand, but you have to eat. You won’t change anything by making yourself sick.” He threw down his chopsticks in disgust.

“Save it, Delgado, I don’t need another pep talk. Sure, my old man did the deed, but what you, Susannah, Sam and Viki keep failing to mention is that Michelle would be alive right now if it weren’t for me! She’s dead because she tried to do something nice for me!”

“You’re in so much pain right now,” said Téa, looking into his sad eyes. “It will get better, Todd. Just give it some time.”

“Oh, I have plenty of that,” he said sarcastically. “Another four months, if I calculate correctly, and that’s only if they fail to come up with some reason to keep me longer.” He stared at the pained expression on her face and picked up the chopsticks again. “Look, I didn’t mean to appear ungrateful, Téa. This beats the jail slop any day. See, I’m eating,” he said, popping a piece of ginger beef into his mouth. Téa giggled as he made exaggerated noises of pleasure. Suddenly, they both turned toward the door as an angry voice could be heard in the corridor. The door flew open and John Sykes stalked into the room, a pizza box in his arms. He looked back and forth at the couple through narrowed eyes.

“So, you break our dinner date to eat with this…this…filth,” he hissed angrily. “I felt sorry for you having to work, so I thought I’d bring dinner to you. And this is what I find!” He tossed the pizza box onto the middle of the desk. Sykes pointed accusingly at Todd, his finger shaking in anger. “This is a convicted felon, sentenced by the court to close confinement in the city jail. Do you know what kind of trouble you’d be in if it became known that you violated that order, Counselor? You could be charged with aiding an escape!”

Todd shot to his feet in a rage, stepping protectively in front of Téa. “Don’t you threaten her, you freak! Dump all over me, I’m the lowlife convict. But you leave Delgado out of it.”

Sykes stepped forward, his eyes bugging out in fury. “How dare you presume to tell me how to treat her, after the abuse you heaped on her during your marriage!”

“That’s right, Syko, she’s suffered enough. She doesn’t need a lecture from a hypocrite like you.” The detective reached forward, grabbing Todd roughly by the shirt. He threw him violently toward the shaken guard, who hovered uncertainly in the doorway, a napkin still tucked in his collar. Todd took a couple of steps toward Sykes, clenching his fists and staring at him with pure hatred in his eyes.

“Go ahead, Manning, try it,” taunted the detective. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to have your sentence extended.” Several tense moments passed. “Get this piece of garbage back to his cell now,” said Sykes in a low, dangerous voice. “I’ll expect a full explanation of this matter if you want to keep your job, Officer.”

“That’s enough, John!” shouted Téa angrily. “You will not take this out on either Officer Franchette or Todd, do you hear me? I am to blame!” She took up a stance in front of the tall detective, her hands on her hips. The white-faced policeman approached Todd and took his arm. Reluctantly, the prisoner moved toward the door.

“Cuff him,” spat Sykes. Todd glared at him a minute more, then taking a deep breath, he held out his wrists toward the guard.

“You have no right to do this, John,” said Téa in a high voice, beginning to cry as Todd was manacled.

“I not only have a right, I have a duty,” said Sykes smugly. “Take him away.” The policeman pulled his charge toward the door, but Todd resisted, yanking free for a moment.

Swallowing down his anger, he turned toward Téa. “Delgado, you gave me a break from jail, some decent food, and the pleasure of your company. Thank you.” He turned toward the door, staring icily at the detective.

“Todd, wait!” called Téa, smiling in spite of her tears. “You forgot your dessert.” She tossed him a fortune cookie, which he caught deftly in spite of his bound hands. He breathed deeply as the guard closed the door behind him. Before the two of them moved away, they could clearly hear Téa chastising Sykes. “How dare you treat me like an unruly child!” she shouted, “and how dare you humiliate him that way!” The sound of her voice raised in anger receded as they walked away down the corridor.

“Sounds like she’s ripping him a new asshole,” said the guard. “Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”

“He’s so full of crap, he needs an extra one,” said Todd. The two snickered conspiratorially as they got on the elevator. Todd remembered the fortune cookie in his hand and broke it open, stuffing the pieces into his mouth and chewing noisily.

“What does your fortune say?” asked the guard, and Todd stretched it out so he could read. Suddenly his head snapped back in laughter.

“Somebody has a really sick sense of humor,” he gasped. “’Each obstacle on your path is becoming the gateway to a new life’. Oh, yeah, that’s rich!”

TO BE CONTINUED

This page hosted by Get your own FREE Home Page