~*~o~*~
About a week after Todd had publically laid to rest his alter-ego, Vimal Patel stumbled across something deeply disturbing in the cemetery. The earth next to Barbara Manning's grave had been torn asunder. It looked as though something had clawed it's way out of the ground. Freaking out at the sight of a gaping hole, Vimal placed a phone call to Llansing police officer John McBain. "I need a cop over here! It's an emergency!" he cried out urgently.
John arrived and stared down at the huge man-sized hole at the gravesite. "You know what this means, don't you?" Vimal asked.
"No, what's it mean?" asked John.
"Something dug itself out of that grave."
"There's no grave there."
"This is the plot of the Manning family. Last week Todd Manning set up a fake burial here in this very same spot. You saw the magazine article, didn't you?" Vimal asked.
"Yeah, so what?"
"Well, that's where Todd Manning 'buried' Victor Pete. Looks like he got out..."
"That's crazy," said John as he looked down at the torn earth. "No one was really buried in the plot."
Vimal shuddered, remembering something that had occurred in the cemetery 13 years ago. He had hated it at the time, but he hadn't been able to stop it. "Someone's going to die..." Vimal spoke in warning. "Mark my words."
John just shook his head in disbelief. The crime rate in Llansing was close to zilch. Other than the usual petty crimes, Llansing was a quiet and peaceful place to live and raise a family. Unbeknownst to John, that was all about to change.
~*~o~*~
Later that night, Clint Buchanan was driving in his pick-up truck a couple of miles outside of Llansing. As usual, he was extremely drunk and swerving along the road. Even in his intoxicated state, he could see someone standing at the road side.
"Is that...? I'll be damned if that doesn't look like..." he spoke as he pressed his foot down on the brake.
Since he recognized the hitchhiker, he pulled over along the road side. He rolled down the window on the passenger's side, peering out into the almost-darkness. "Hey, you need a ride?" he called out.
There was no answer, prompting Clint to stick his head further out the window and look toward the back-end of the truck. Suddenly strong arms grabbed him, tugging him forcefully from the vehicle. There was a distinct ripping noise when Clint's prostetic leg tore away from his body. It dangled from the edge of the window as the hitchhiker drug a stunned Clint away into the darkness.
~*~o~*~
Hours later, Detective John McBain was called to the scene of the crime. Clint's badly beaten body had been tossed in a ditch along the side of the road. There was dried blood caking his face along with assorted bruises all over the old man's body. He looked like he had been beaten savagely with a baseball bat. "Poor old man didn't stand a chance," John said with a heavy sigh while he examined the old man's body. "I can't believe that asshole took his prostetic leg."
"They didn't take it," said Brody Lovett, one of the other officers. He raised up a large evidence bag containing the battered leg. "That's what they used to beat him with."
"Where's his truck?" asked McBain.
"Don't know, but when we find it, maybe we'll get some answers."
"I hope so. No one deserves to die that way," John responded. "Clint was just an old drunk photographer. He wouldn't hurt a fly."
"I know," Brody agreed. "I hope we find this guy and fast."
~*~o~*~
Todd and Marty were cuddling on the couch just after getting the twins to bed. Kayler and Kyndel were becoming more active and the wild twins had worn their parents out. Today Kyndel had learned how to climb the staircase. Her active twin had quickly followed after her. The babies had gotten half-way up the staircase before their parents found them. "They scare me to death, you know," Marty said to Todd as he pressed his face into her long blond curls, inhaling her sweet scent.
Todd chuckled, nibbling her ear. "Are you too worn out to give your husband some much-needed lovin'?" he teased her.
"I don't know. What do you have in mind?" she asked him breathlessly.
Todd reached for a breast and gently squeezed the firm globe until her nipple hardened. To his great disappointment, the doorbell suddenly rang. "Damnit!" Todd cursed. "I'm sexually frustrated."
"Poor baby. I promise I'll take care of you later," Marty told him with a grin as she stood up and hurried to answer the door.
"It's freakin late. I wonder who it could be..." Todd said as he followed after her.
Marty opened the door to see John McBain staring back at her. "John? What are you doing here?" Marty asked as shock settled on her features.
Llansing was a neighboring town, so what had brought John to Llanview? She knew him well considering they had briefly dated when Todd had been in prison. Because of her past with John, Todd's possessive side swiftly surfaced. Todd came over to the doorway, glaring at John as he wondered what the cop wanted with his wife.
"I need to speak to your husband," John answered Marty. "Can I come in?"
"Sure, but what's this about?" Marty asked as she stepped aside to let John enter and address Todd.
"Where were you last night?" John questioned Todd.
"On the flight back from New York City," Todd responded with an annoyed frown. "I had an important business meeting with my publicists, Aubrey and Cutter Wentworth. Why? What's this about?"
"Do you have anyone who can vouch for your whereabouts?"
"No, I don't. Again- what's this about?"
"Clint Buchanan, the photographer was killed last night near Llansing..."
"Really? What does that have to do with me? I haven't been in Llansing for almost a week."
"John, why are you questioning Todd?" Marty asked nervously.
"Because a witness saw him at the scene of the crime."
"Impossible," responded Todd as he crosssed his arms over his chest.
"A man was seen along the side of the road. He was described as about your build with semi-long hair and a scar on his face."
"So?" Todd prompted.
"Your bloody fingerprints were found in Clint's Buchanan's abandoned truck. We matched the prints to those in your criminal file. You were there, Manning."
"Check the flight records. I couldn't possibly be in two places at once. Stop trying to frame me for a crime I did not commit."
"You can bet I will check the flight records. I'm on to you, Manning. We're gonna be watching your every move. As soon as we have enough evidence, I am busting your ass," John threatened.
"If you're so sure, why don't you arrest me now?"
"Because of Marty," said John as he lay his gaze upon Todd's beautiful wife. "She believes in you and she always has."
"Don't hurt her," John growled as he stared into Todd's eyes.
"Leave Marty out of this..." Todd grumbled as his fists clenched with rage. How he hated John McBain.
"I'm doing you a favor, Manning, by not hauling your ass into jail. Remember that," John said before he left.
Todd closed the door behind him. "Can you believe that?" Todd asked with exhasperation, turning to look at Marty. "That asshole actually believes I killed Clint Buchanan..."
Marty looked at Todd, taking a small step back from him as she nibbled her lower lip with nervousness. "You couldn't possibly have...?"
"Don't tell me you doubt me, too, Marty?" Todd asked as he scrutinized her.
"You were on the flight back from New York City. There's no way you could have..."
"You're right, babe. And why would I wanna kill him? The only one I wanna pulverize is that ugly little rat, Rick Powers. But we know he's safe in his little bed in New York City," Todd chuckled. As he spoke he drew Marty into his arms and felt a shudder quickly pass through her body.
"Why do you always have to talk like that, Todd? It scares me when your violent streak rears it's ugly head..."
"Right now my horny streak is coming forth," he stated as he lifted her easily into his embrace and started carrying her up the staircase.
"You made a promise to me earlier..." he reminded as he nibbled her neck. "And you better believe I intend to collect..."