Caged

Chapter 2

Rule on the bunk beds: whoever is bigger, tougher, or has seniority, gets to choose. Bottom bunk has higher status.

After getting his stuff from the commissary, Todd followed a guard to his cell. He walked into the double occupation room with the heavy looking bars and was slightly relieved that his cellmate was White because if he wasn't, the politicking would be tricky. On the other hand, the guy was huge and looked to be a White Supremacist. Swastika tats were kind of a giveaway. Todd, standing there with his shit in his arms, glanced at the bunks and couldn't tell which one was free. This guy had spread out. Damn.

Scowling, looking as tough as he could muster, Todd said, "Which one is mine?"

The guy stopped playing cards on the bottom bunk and looked Todd up and down. Flashed a shit-eating grin. "None a dem. Ya gots da floors."

Great, his cellie was huge, and a moron with a speech impediment. The guy laughed and scratched his crotch, mimicking some sort of masturbation. Kept laughing and eying Todd up and down. Todd glanced around and saw across the hall that a bunch of inmates were watching. This was a fucking test. He sighed and rocked his head from side to side, making cracking sounds, really bummed that his first fight was going to be on day one. Damn. He hadn't even been here for three hours.

"My choice, then." Since Moron was on the bottom bunk, the top one was free. He'd acknowledge seniority that way. Todd walked to the bunk and put his shit near the pillow. And then he proceeded to wipe off all the crap to the floor, clothes, shoes, food, papers, all raining down past the Moron. The gauntlet was thrown. Todd put his foot on the bottom bunk to get up on the bunk, knowing what would happen.

Sure as shit Moron grabbed his foot and yanked. Like a whistle had been blown, inmates up and down the block stepped out of their cells to see where the new guy was going to land. When Todd hit the ground, he kicked out Moron's knee, making the asshole fall. Todd crabbed his way backwards to get some room, hoping to get to his feet but Moron was too big and jumped on top of him, the guy's chest smack on Todd's face, in an effort to suffocate him.

Men were yelling, whoooping, calling Moron's name which sounded something like...well...Moron. Todd knew that 300 pounds of flab was probably going to kill him so he did the only thing possible. He turned his head, managed to open his mouth, and bit down, solid.

Bit until he felt Moron pulling away and screaming like a bitch, kept biting until Moron's nipple and achunk of his breast came off in his mouth.

Moron jumped back, screaming bloody murder, major blood leaking down his chest. Todd spit the nipple, the blubber, and the blood in his mouth, at Moron's feet, praying like god damn hell the guy didn't have AIDS. Then he cleared out the bottom bunk and grabbed his stuff off the top. By the time the COs got there, Moron had passed out outside the cell like a beached whale and Todd was kicking back on the bottom bunk.

Now people knew where the new guy landed.


When Bo burst into Carlotta's diner and called out Todd Manning, the noise of the restaurant hushed to only the delicate clinking of forks, a subtle whispered gossip, and the never-failing questions of children. Téa had jumped to her feet and yanked the screaming Reese out of the high chair, while Todd casually continued to sip the milkshake until he slurped it gone. Only Téa noticed something different in him, in the tell-tale twitch of his lip.

"Shhhh..." Téa soothed the boy, She rocked him and he silenced, his head on her shoulder. He watched his father over her shoulder. Todd smiled and winked at him before eyeing Bo, before wiping his mouth carefully with a napkin and laying it back on the table.

"We can do this easy or hard, Manning," Bo snapped. "Your choice."

The place remained quiet for another minute, but when Todd stood to his full height and glanced around the room, his face set in a hard scowl, the noise resumed and everyone returned to their early dinners.

Leaning close to Bo, Todd hissed, "Really, Buchanan, in front of my kids? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Didn't feel like playing with your lawyer today. Needed to get your attention."

"You're a real bastard."

Bo chuckled at his entourage of officers, "Thank you, Mr. Kettle."

Todd smiled darkly. "Well, I don't feel like playing with you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a family to feed. My attorney will call you tomorrow." He turned to return to his seat, but one of the cops put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"You gotta come, sir."

Reese was now settled next to Lucia who was staring at the police with her big eyes, and that judgmental Manning gaze.

Téa turned her attention to Bo. "What's going on? What are you doing? Call George Strauss. You know the number. Todd will be happy...HAPPY...to have a chat. Privately!" She flashed a glance at Todd, her face a mask of perplexity.

"Look," Bo shot back, "the kid murdered in the street today, just two hours ago, was a seventeen year old girl caught in gang crossfire. I need to talk to your husband. And I need to talk to him NOW. I don't have time for his lawyering bullshit. He can do that at the station."

"You need a warrant," Téa said, her voice low and cold, "Besides, he's been out of the Statesville game a damn long time."

"Not long enough, Téa." Bo's voice was thick with knowledge that put Téa on edge, but she hid it, hid behind her state bar license.

"What probable cause then? Tell me, what probable cause?"

Todd put his hand on her shoulder, too hard. Téa eyed him, saw that twitch again. She could feel a vibration in his body... kicked up her level of discomfort. Yes, see...that twitch was rage and it was simmering, building.

"What? What is it?" she asked him. "He can't take you into custody without probable cause...".

"No," he said, "It's not custody. Just a chat, and you're not my lawyer. I'll go with him. Take care of the kids and I'll see you at home. An hour. The...commissioner's just covering his bases." His voice was even, cool. Tea knew this voice... this was the inmate talking. Revealing nothing, no weaknesses, being respectful to the guards. There was only that damn twitch. Inside he was raging... he only needed to be put on the defensive then the fight would come and he'd fight for his life. To the death...

This much he'd shared with her. This much she knew and it outright scared her. "Todd... stop... what's going on?"

He usually played games with Bo, being purposely obstinate by lawyering up and calling George. In three years since his release, he did not rage at Bo nor did he just go along the program. Even more so that the kids were here. This is how she knew that whatever was happening was for real. What had he done?

"It's okay, Delgado." He tried to smile, but nothing happened. He grit his teeth instead.

She nodded."Then I'll call George - he'll be right there. Don't say a thing, Todd. You don't have to say anything to them. Do you hear me?"

She said those things even though she'd quit being his lawyer long ago. It was part of her problem. She had the power to protect him and that very power had always kept her entrenched in the shadowy wood in which he lived. When she stopped trying to protect him, when he pulled away into letters only from behind prison bars, she regained her sense of self, becoming a mother, and a real lawyer to real clients. She reached to touch him, to feel if the hum stopped, but he slipped away from her.

Lucia called out, scared at the sight of Todd taking a step towards the men with guns. "Daddy! Are they arresting you?!"

Téa was about to say no, to assure her, but Todd got there first, smiling at his baby girl, using a Puerto Rican term of affection that never failed to touch Téa deeply.

"No, mami," he said, leaning down to her, his finger under her chin, "They just want to talk to me about something in the newspaper. That's all." He whispered, "That big man is just a clown. You've seen him lots of times with your Aunt Viki." Lucia laughed with recognition and wrapped her arms around her father, holding him tightly, "I love you, Papi. Kiss me when you come home."

No weaknesses.

He squeezed his eyes shut, an action Téa saw, a sudden flashback of Starr at the same age in her head, when Todd left her at Dorian's house to get back to Brandy, to get back to heroin. He stood back up and turned, his expression changed. The rage obviously closer to the surface. Where was the heroin now?

Hissing again, Todd made his way towards the doors, the men at his side. "You better have something for fuckin' real, Buchanan."

"Oh I do, Manning. I do."


They let him cool his heels in the chilled room with a metal table in the center. There was a steel bar running across the table in the middle, where handcuffs would go. Todd felt the edges, running his fingers on the coolness from one end to the other, circling the screws and the bolts. He felt the slickness and thought of a coroner's table. Thought of people laid out on them, cut open. He knew some of those people.

He loved some of those people.

Rocking back on the hard metal chair, he counted the ceiling tiles and focused on each breath, in and out, in and out. No water, no cigarettes, nothing on the walls except a two-way mirror. Camera in the corner, its red light steadily aimed in his direction. He was calm, knowing the five minutes had stretched into thirty, knowing they were waiting for him to throw a tantrum over being pulled away from his family only to sit here in this room, in dead silence. He didn't want to give it to them, but he could feel its sharpness, could feel that tantrum coursing through his veins and splashing up against the base of spine.

Because he knew this was real, knew this was seriously problematic.

Instead of giving in, he stared at the mirror as he rocked in a slow, rhythmic beat. Back and forth, back and forth. Letting the minutes click by. Time had changed for him since Statesville. Boredom was part of solitary confinement. And solitary was a familiar state of being. Hours in the darkness with nothing to do, nothing to read, nothing to drink or eat until they gave it to you. A man goes crazy that way, but see...Todd was already crazy... and he fought it now. It was here, gurgling inside.

Breathe...breathe...for the love of all that's holy, please keep the crazy at bay...

The hour stretched into two.

He closed his eyes finally and hooked a foot around the leg of the table, keeping perfectly balanced on the back legs of the chair. Let himself drift in the comfort of total peace, total silence, time meaning nothing...

But see, inmates never really sleep.

The next thing Henry Jones knew was that he was being slammed onto his back, his head cracking against the linoleum, and that Todd was on top of him. The ex-con's arm lay across the cop's throat, a knee jammed in his groin, and the cop's gun...in Todd's hand. The gun was in the air, aimed at the mirror. Jones was out of breath and completely incapacitated. Every direction was blocked, not to mention the wind being knocked out of him, and a near-fucking-concussion.

Jones had seemingly made a bad choice in approach. The man on top, staring down at Jones... was goddamn werewolf. Wild hair, wild eyes, that jagged scar on his cheek... and those sharp teeth...and Jesus... Jones tried to escape it, there was something else...

"No more cop-world for you, eh?" Todd snarled, his breath hot on the cop's face, "It would be so easy to kill you right now."

"Manning, put the goddamn gun down! Come on!"

Across the floor and through the legs of the table, Todd eyed the two cops with their own weapons aimed at him and a red-faced Bo Buchanan behind them. He didn't have a chance. Growling like a pit bull, he gently lay the piece on the floor and peeled himself off Jones. Two cops rewarded him for his compliance by laying him out hard onto his chest on the floor, one boot on his back and another on his head, arms being jerked behind him. He grunted at the pain of being held down and handcuffed. They seemed to take a certain pleasure in making it painful and he paid them back by yelling like a madman, completely, utterly, having had the tantrum shaken out of him.

"You weren't accused of any crimes before," Bo said, bent over and eying his prone captive. "And in a matter of thirty seconds you've amassed three separate crimes-assault on an officer, dispossession of his weapon, and attempted murder. Seriously, Manning, the hell are you thinking?!"

"He woke me up." Spoken through gritted teeth. "He WOKE ME UP!"

The officers dragged the panting Todd to his feet and re-cuffed him to the bar on the table. He just knew he'd get familiar with it. He yanked on it with his whole body, yelling out blackly, still under the influence of his being… surprised. He fell back onto the metal chair.

Truth was, the commissioner knew this would happen. He'd made Todd wait and then sent Henry in to surprise him, unnerve him. Henry agreed but had no idea how it would play out exactly. Hurt a hell of lot more than he thought it would. He'd never been taken out like that, not even at the Academy. Embarrassed, feeling the detective shield slide far out of his reach, he picked up his weapon and sighed heavily. Bo looked hard at Todd, then at Henry catching his breath and rubbing the back of his head, while the other cops laughed quietly as they left.

Bo dragged a chair that had been outside the room, inside. Turned it backwards and sat on it, arms loose on the backrest. Faced Todd.

"You're flustered."

"Fuck you. You took me from my family... for NO FUCKING REASON! Fuck you and fuck this place! You fucking set me up!" Todd knew he'd lost his cool. He'd slipped into the mindset of an inmate and inmates are never caught off guard, especially not Todd. But this... this... response, he'd learned even earlier than prison. His abusive father also… never caught him off guard. Even in the dead of night, even when he was powerless, Todd always knew what was coming.

And that was the thing: he was someone else right now and he couldn't stop the emotional coup. He whimpered at the sheer out-of-control-ness racing through him. He hunched in his seat, shaking with hate. It was like a drug. God...it was like being high. His eyes bounced from a recovering Jones to Bo to the table to the cuffs and down, down. He yanked again and again on the cuffs... unable to slow his breathing.

Bo felt bad for his old nemesis. He had a kind of restrained respect for Todd and knew the'd been pushed into this mental space. And of course, Bo owned up to the pushing.

"Get him some goddamn water."

"Tell me... what the fuck... I am doing here."

"Okay, let me lay it out for you. A girl was killed today by the Irish gang known as the Dirty Riders of the Fourth Quadrant. The gunmen were aiming for members of the Los Serranos gang and this poor girl was caught in the middle. Now-"

A rush of adrenaline slammed through Todd and he jerked the cuffs hard, "I DON'T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THAT!"

"Hear me out. Drink the water and breathe. Give it to him, Henry."

The cop looked at Bo, and looked at the glass, and looked at Todd shaking with fury and panting. A werewolf.

"Go ahead, Henry, he won't bite. Will you, Manning."

Because Todd's hands were cuffed, Todd couldn't drink the water himself. He forced himself to slow his breathing. Shook his head a little. Grunted a promise not to bite. Presumably.

"See? Go ahead, Henry."

Moving closer, one hand on his gun, the cop put the glass to Todd's lips. Todd bit down on the glass and stared the cop down. He then let Henry tip the glass and he drunk it. Finished it. Nodded a thank you. Humanity coming back… a little.

"Better," Bo said. "Now. Back to my story. So... little girl dead in the street, the third killing in two weeks. But before that, it's been a back and forth between the Irish and Los Serranos for the past three years."

"Short... on... patience..."

"Yes, yes, I know. So we've traced this back and forth to a zero victim. Because before that zero victim, the Irish and Los Serranos were actually...peaceful. There is no history, prior to zero victim, of the Irish ever killing off a Serrano and vice versa. Henry... tell him about the zero victim."

Henry nodded, "Name was Jessie Horenda."

Unwittingly, Todd blinked hard and looked to the side. Because he was out of control. He'd slipped.

Bo had caught that. "You know him."

"No."

"Henry, describe the body please."

"He was found in the back hallway, by the laundry at Statesville. His penis was cut off, and he was sodomized with a baton-like weapon that had been fashioned out of a table leg from the laundry. The man had been stabbed a dozen times in the chest and back with a shiv. Oh, the penis was stuck into his mouth."

Todd snorted. "Ouch."

Bo looked at him. "Where's the humanity, Todd? I thought you changed. Henry... continue."

"Carved into his forehead was the word, 'bitch.'"

Grabbing Todd's left hand, Bo forced it so the knuckles were showing the word LOVE carved into his skin. "Interesting similarity." Bo eyed the camera, "Let the record show that Manning has cuttings on his left hand knuckles that were not there when he entered Statesville. Let the record show that they are strikingly similar to Horenda's cuts."

Growling, yanking his hand away from Bo as best he could considering the cuffs, Todd spit at the commissioner's face, slime hitting him square on. "Fuck you."

"And that's another count of assault on a police officer." He wiped the spit off with his handkerchief. Folded the handkerchief and tossed it into the trash. "Two counts of assault, a dispossession charge, and attempted murder."

Bo crossed his arms and leaned forward, "You do the carving on Horenda, Todd? Huh? Cuz... the letters look the same to me. Same style...same cutting."

"I didn't kill Horenda!" The panting started again and he yanked on those cuffs. Knocked his head back and closed his eyes, trying so desperately to regain his calm. He almost wanted to cry, if he still could. It had been so long since he lost it like this and he had no idea why. No, no...he knew exactly why. Because he'd been cornered and trapped like a goddamn animal.

Shhhhh...I promise. I fucking promise, on my life, I will take care of it.

He whispered because if he spoke it would be a scream from the depths of his being. "I want my lawyer," he said. "Téa said she would call George..." The whisper ended because now he was angry at his beautiful wife for not getting the lawyer here fast enough..."WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?!" Anger spewed and Todd pulled so hard on the restraints that they cut into his skin, blood blooming on his wrists. His heart was racing and a thick vein on the side of his neck pumped a rapid pulse.

"Calm the hell down, Manning. You know better than most that in my world..." Bo leaned close to Todd. "Rage equals guilt."

"I want my lawyer."

In his mind, Bo slammed his own head against that table. DAMN, there wasn't enough evidence for an arrest regarding Horenda, and as soon as he gets his lawyer, no more questions. Bo decided to take it down a notch.

"Hey, Manning, let's try to finish this, okay? I know you're hurting and I know I'm responsible. Give me five more minutes and I'll let these charges go, otherwise, you're ours. Assault and dispossession will get you jail time. Out of the goodness of my heart I'll drop attempted murder because the gun wasn't loaded. You don't need more jail, your family doesn't need more jail. Henry… ask again about Horenda."

In that minute, Todd had settled. The thumping pulse though didn't. He eyed the room and fixed his stare on the mirror. Wondered who was there, staring back at him.

"Did you know Jessie Horenda while in Statesville?"

"I don't know. I knew a lot of guys inside."

"Here's the thing, Manning," Bo said. "The killing of Horenda was incredibly violent and… sexual in nature. It implied a kind of revenge. Marking him a 'bitch' indicates some kind of traitor status. The penis removal and the baton indicate something else… something… well… personal. Total and complete removal of a man's power. You relate to that, don't you? If a penis is power, and an instrument of violent power, then if it is removed and stuck into one's mouth, well… that is quite the reversal of roles. The power has most certainly been removed."

Silence. Todd kept his eyes on that mirror. He felt the blood spreading and rubbed his wrists on the table, swishing the red on the steel. He was shaking. He dragged his gaze away from the mirror onto Bo.

The commissioner held his gaze and shook his head at the sight of Todd's madness. My god, he thought, how close to the surface it lived, how easy to shake his tree. Even after three years of being out of prison.

"The interesting thing is that… Horenda didn't have a lot of power inside, not in the big picture of things. So we're back to asking, why was this guy killed that way? Must have been… personal. The stabs to the chest, too, say the same thing. Takes an amazing amount of personal hatred to stab a guy well after he's dead...five, six jabs until he was dead, then six more. Did you hate Horenda?"

Silence.

"Todd, what did Horenda do to you? Did he rape you? Did he take your power away?"

Silence. Todd closed his eyes and turned his head. When he looked again at Bo, he was the cornered pit bull in a kill-kennel. Bo sighed. Lotsa hate in that mad stare. The commissioner did feel a little bad having been the one who brought it all out.

"Here's my last set of questions, Todd. Henry and I noticed something interesting in your file from Statesville, in your parole pictures, in your various mugshots. Something unusual. In all your time there, how is it that you kept your hair so… long?"

Silence.

"Henry? Share the culture." Bo leaned back and Henry jumped in. "It's dangerous in prison to have hair any longer than past your ears. It marks you as a woman, it can be pulled, it can be used to strangle you with. And it takes way too long to wash in a shower. It's extremely dangerous which is why most if not all cons shave their heads or go marine-style. Only a few can keep their hair lengthier… people in power within the prison system or people with absolutely NO power."

Bo asked, "So did you have power... or were you… a woman?"

Todd remained silent, the longish hair still present.

Henry gazed at the trapped man across from him. "May I interject, boss?"

Bo nodded, his hand giving the go-ahead.

Henry spoke in an even-keeled tone. "Know what I think? I think you had a hard-on when you got on top of me today."

Bo looked at Henry, a little surprised at Henry's bravado.

Now Todd chuckled, low and deep. No shame. "Couldn't be helped," he said. "The thought of a bullet flying up through your chin and blowing out the top of your skull got blood rushing. Know what I think?"

Henry shrugged, a bare rise of a shoulder.

"I think you liked it," Todd purred. "It's why you remember it."

The young cop couldn't take his eyes off Todd Manning, the newspaper man, father, husband, brother, sociopath. His effort at putting a dent in Manning's bravado failed.

"Todd," Bo said, jumping in. "How is it that you managed to protect Joe Rodriguez, for nearly two years before he was paroled? He was a delicate kid. 19 years old, weighing an entire 125 pounds. I checked on him. Found out he's happily living in New York City, working at a restaurant that caters to gay clientele. He laughs at Statesville. Says he was lucky. Didn't belong to a gang, couldn't fight for the life of him...and yet...he emerged outta there like he spent two years in a god damn charm school. He says, you helped him. He swears he was never raped or beaten. Ever. How? With all that… long hair."

Silence.

"Do you know Joe Rodriguez?"

Silence.

"I've got two more names of young men in similar positions who you… protected. With what? How?"

Silence.

"Last question. Who is… Diego Loriz?"

Todd slammed his eyes to Bo, shaking his head. "I don't know."

Awful fast response.

"He worked for you."

"Names all sound the same to me."

"Died in Statesville your third year there. Small guy. He had medical issues and there is one record of you requesting psych help for him. But you don't know him."

"Nope."

"Funny thing that kid. His autopsy body showed him missing teeth. All his front teeth gone, top and bottom. So young, too. Died of a heroin overdose. Funny thing… no history of drug use."

Todd didn't flinch, staring at Bo, same dark look. His mouth twitched. Jaw clamped down tight.

The door opened and in strode George Strauss, cussing a storm. He'd been kept out. "Uncuff him. Son of a bitch, Commissioner, this how you treat your guests?"

"He did it to himself. Henry-uncuff him. But do know we're gonna hang on to those charges of assault, two counts, and dispossession of an officer's weapon."

"Fuckin' provocation and you goddamn well know it," the lawyer hissed before pointing his finger at Todd, who'd growled at the cop, whose breathing intensified, who looked like he was entertaining another frontal assault. "Don't even think about it, Manning. He will remove the cuffs and you will thank him kindly."

The muscles in Todd's face twitched, and he snorted like a bull, shaking those cuffs… then Henry undid them and the pit bull rubbed his wrists. He stood and stopped at seeing Téa in the doorway. She looked upset, angry. Worried. She walked up to him, wanting to wrap her arms around him, "I'm so sorry...they wouldn't let us in because you hadn't asked for a lawyer." Todd stood still, like a tree, like a damn redwood. He eyed her up and down, grunted a little and pulled away from her. Leaving her behind as he walked out the door. That limp of his intensified, deepened. He looked broken.

"You were wrong to do that to him," Téa said when she turned to Bo. "You were WRONG. You pushed him on purpose, you set that young cop on him knowing what would happen. How could you open him up like that?!"

He pulled her aside, "You saw the entire interview then."

"And? I'm going to use it against you in a lawsuit if he..."

"Listen to me, look, listen… he did something to Horenda and I want to know why. He either murdered him himself or he made it happen. He had something on that guy and it was personal. You should want to know what it is. For your family, for your safety. Todd started something with that death. And kids are dying now. It's on him."

"Don't you dare put the actions of ANIMALS on Todd. Horenda obviously did something horrible to get that kind of punishment. For all the evil that might be in Statesville, you can't deny that sometimes justice prevails. And I suspect Horenda got exactly his due."

"And you think that's where this all ends? With Horenda? Don't you think that maybe… some of this is going to come back? Someone might be holding a very big grudge against Todd right now. Don't you want to know what might be lurking around? You have a family..."

"Don't use my family."

Bo paused a moment, a deadly serious expression on his face. "What do you know about those kids and Todd? What were they giving for protection? Téa… nothing is given for free in prison. Ever. What do you think he was getting for all that protection?"

"You're disgusting." She stared at him, her gaze icy.

"Manning has always been, mmm… what's the word, indiscriminate when it comes to violence. I have seen him engage many people, use their weakness, to get what he wants. Look what he did to Henry today - using Henry's own observation against him. I don't put anything past him."

"Whatever he did in prison was for survival. And it's not like you did anything to help him when you could have. He could have been in protective custody but you didn't arrange for that did you?"

"Couldn't justify it..."

"Couldn't justify it?! And what about the fact that you set him up for the death of Phillip Manning, and that you let him hang for the death of the federal agent? I will never forget that it was YOU who let him walk out of Llanview General when he was so sick, so addicted, and in pieces inside. YOU DID THAT. YOU set him up as bait to that sick bastard and then had the GALL to prosecute him for killing that...that...FUCK. Jedediah nearly DIED that night. And you… you set that up." Her tears welled. "No, Bo, you don't get to put Angel Square deaths on Todd. NO."

"But Téa … what about who he IS? Don't you want to know? Have you even pulled his Statesville file? Do you KNOW what did in prison?"

"Why now, Bo? WHY NOW?"

With that she walked out, to whom… she wasn't sure.

Bo sat down on the chair in the room, collapsed more like it. Tapped his fingers on the table. He did feel some responsibility for Manning, that was true. He let that thing happen with his cousin, Phillip Manning, a plain-wrapper psychopath who kidnapped Todd's son and nearly killed the kid. Of course, Manning had to take the death several steps past defense of Jedediah into straight murder. Further… he bore responsibility for Brandy and not keeping her safe from the rotten federal agent, bore responsibility for lots of Brandy's and Todd's. Damaged goods they were. He tried to make up for it, changing policy, lobbying for better homeless shelters for kids. And yes, he didn't do enough for Todd in Statesville. The kid had it rough. Real rough. Getting dumped in gen pop. A rapist who happened to have money. But on the other hand… Todd had agreed to a shorter stint in Statesville rather than a longer time in a safer place.

But all that aside, a reality remained, a mystery… Todd Manning kept that long hair and Bo knew goddamn well it wasn't because he was a "woman." It was because Todd had became someone to be feared inside. Or maybe… he already was that someone. For sure, he was still that someone and Bo needed to find out more.

What the hell was everyone afraid of? He guessed Horenda's "punishment" might have been it.

Henry ambled back in the room. "How did you know he'd attack me?"

"I know Manning like the back of my hand. You did good, Henry. Real good. Todd is wracked with guilt, no question. He practically confessed to killing Horenda himself. Did you see him react to Horenda's name? And the kid… Loriz. There's a connection. God I hate being this close to nothing."

"Commissioner… what difference is this going to make? Horenda's old news. Water under the bridge. I was only trying to see if there was a way out of the gang war. Not so sure it really means anything. I kinda agree with Mrs. Manning. I suspect that Horenda guy got what he deserved."

Looking down at his hands, his aging hands, Bo sighed heavily. Said in a dark, serious voice that was tinged with regret, "Henry, if Todd is pegged as the killer of Horenda, we might be able to derail the gang war. They'll realize this was a misstep. A truce might be possible. At this rate, it's nigh near impossible. The two gangs are in way too deep if we simply let the murder lie as one by the Irish."

Henry furrowed his brows..."Did you really use him as bait for Phillip Manning?"

"He volunteered."

The men walked out, leaving Henry to think about Llanview P.D. and his boss. He wasn't so sure about the plan. Wasn't so sure throwing Manning to the wolves, back into the misery of Statesville, would really derail the war. So then… what for? Why destroy a family, a man who seemed to have redeemed himself?

Or did he?

Henry felt that guy on his body, that weight, the rock in between his legs… Todd Manning had been turned on, but Henry knew it wasn't sexual. It was hate. Sheer… unadulterated, bottomless, stomach-turning hate. And where does that kind of hate come from? Well, hate is on just this side of evil. Henry had a moment when he had looked into Todd's wild eyes. He knew Manning could have killed him. Maybe not there in that room, but somewhere. Not many people see that for real and survive, a true moment where all humanity disappears for a killer and his victim… and a life ends.

As if Bo could read his mind, the Commissioner turned to Henry as they made their way to general booking, "Yes, Henry, Todd is a monster, and yes, you felt what you felt. But don't forget… he was made that way. He was once as innocent as his own children. And, so, we cannot forget what we might be sacrificing for the greater good."

God damn.

To be continued...