On the Edge of Wakefulness

Chapter 7

The West Virginian temperature had dropped significantly, but Jedediah and Kevin didn't mind as they hiked back to Michelle's jumping point at the New River. They had spent the week searching for the witnesses, only to discover they were both dead. They did locate a daughter, and were waiting for her to make contact. Kevin spoke to Cassie, sensing a strange distance. He was concerned and needed to get back home but couldn't leave yet, not with so much to do

Today, they wanted to see Michelle's cliff by the light of day, unobstructed. Once they reached the edge of the river, they were struck by an obvious discrepancy in the witness statements. There was no way they could have seen Michelle jump from the places they claimed to have been at.

"The picnic tables are too damn far away," Kevin grumbled.

He walked all the way back to the tables, thinking perhaps they had been moved. After all, it had been over eight years since Michelle plunged to her death. He studied the tables, noticing they were chained down and very weathered. The cliff was rocky, trees surrounding the tables, and just way too much distance, there being an actual bend in the line of vision. The tables had not been moved.

Kevin plunked himself down at one of the tables, trying to figure things out.

Jedediah paced on the deadened grass, eyeing the horizon. He hadn't quite been himself since Kevin told him about Todd. Since he saw the pictures. Since Kevin implied that maybe Todd… hurt Michelle. Wondered if it was code for date rape. "Your daddy was beautiful and came from Heaven just to give me, you," she had told him. Those words carried Jed, made him feel special. He grew up feeling loved despite the secret.

Now her words mystified him. Could she have described her rapist that way? Todd's smoldering look on the computer screen was intimidating and disturbing as hell. Truth was... he couldn't say for sure this guy DIDN'T hurt his mother.

This shook him.

As Jedediah watched Kevin in his careful study of the logistics on the picnic tables, he spotted an old bearded man walking toward the two. White hair under a cap, too many wrinkles to reveal whether he was black or white. He walked slowly but steadily with a long wooden stick in his hand, worn and craggy but sturdy. He nodded to Kevin and Jedediah, a mischievous look on his face.

"Have ya' seen her?"

Kevin and Jedediah both looked at each other, knowing the old man didn't know about their mission and wasn't talking about Michelle.

"Seen who?" they both asked, the words sounding like a joke needing a punch line.

"Miracle. Da' angel who comforts li'l chillun when dey cry and who love da' babies. She heal da' sick when dey is seein' tings and only is seen by da' dyin'."

"Silly ghost stories, old man," Kevin said, grinning at the storyteller.

"Not so, chile. It da' truth."

"Yeah?" Jedediah pushed.

"Dey say she live in da hills among dem hillbillies. Dey claim her to be dey own. Dey protective over dey Miracle. Dat why nobody down here see her durin' da light a' day." He raised his eyebrows at the men and chuckled as he walked away. "Don' be scared, chillun, don' be scared."

"Think I've been out here too long," Kevin said as he and Jedediah watched the old man disappear down the trail.

Jedediah sat heavily at one of the picnic tables looking towards Michelle's jumping point.

"I used to imagine my mom wasn't dead," he said. "Made up stories like that old man's, made up places where she could be. I gave up those dreams and wishes a long time ago." Jedediah reached into his backpack and pulled out a plastic bag with some hand-rolled cigarettes. He took out an old lighter and lit one up.

Kevin didn't think anything until he smelled the distinct skunky smell of marijuana.

"Jesus, put that away, Jed!"

Jedediah chuckled at Kevin's uptightness, his mood lifting somewhat. "Who's gonna catch me? Don' be scared a'da weed!" He took a puff, breathing deeply, holding it and letting out the remnants into the air. "I'm not a pothead if that's what you're thinking. Don't do it that often."

Kevin shook his head at the teenager in front of him, thinking about Todd and his drug use. Shocking truthfully. Thought… gateway drug. He watched the boy puff away like an expert … and did nothing about it. Not sure if it was his place to be a parent. Kids, yeah?

Turning around, he focused again on the cliff, listening to the roar of the river. Imagined this woman, Michelle, jumping to her death … the way Todd had cut himself up so he could die, too. Shit.

Jedediah tapped out the lit embers of the joint and, once assured that it was no longer burning, replaced it into the plastic bag which would then go into the backpack. Kevin grabbed the bag out of his hand, deciding it WAS his place to act a parent.

"Hey!"

"No. As long as you're with me, none a'this."

Jedediah started to object … but then grit his teeth and didn't argue. After a second or two, he shrugged, and said, "Let's hit the road, dude."

Todd opened his eyes to Satan staring down at him. He was too weak to respond, too weak to cry out, lying on his back like an upturned turtle. Satan growled. "Don't move. You are almost where I want you." Cruel laughter pelted Todd's body. "Let's talk about that night. How much you liked it."

Something spoke to him, whispered to him, a voice giving him strength. Todd whispered, "No."

"Wrong answer! You dream about it, boy. I hear you, crying out. It's ecstasy I hear in your voice. You wake up wet."

Don't listen to him Todd, don't listen. I am here.

Satan suddenly grabbed Todd by the hair and lifted his face close to his, his breath on Todd's face. Sheer terror stopped him from breathing. "It would be so easy to break your neck but I won't allow myself the pleasure because I don't want to spoil my fun. Not yet."

Todd, a rag doll in the hands of Satan, tried to listen to that other voice in his head, the one swimming inside of him.

Where, he asked, where are you?

Satan forced his son to his feet, and stared into his eyes. Running his tongue up Todd's cheek, he laughed bitterly. Finally, he threw Todd back down on the volcanic floor, face down. Satan lay on top of him, grabbing Todd by the back of the head once more, lifting him so he could see his face.

"Why don't we have a little reunion?"

Shhhhhh, baby, shhhhhh, I'm here.

Todd huddled on a couch in the consultation room, a bright common area in the lock-down ward where other patients milled, played board games and even visited with guests. His long hair was pulled into a ponytail. He had a neatly trimmed goatee, thanks to thoughtful attendants. He wore dark-blue sweat pants with a long-sleeved knit shirt, his clothes of preference. Barefoot. For the past several days, he had taken to walking around with no socks and at night, sleeping on the floor with no shirt on. There was no getting him on the bed. Wherever he would sit, he'd repeatedly scrape the rug with his feet. Curl his toes on the loops.

Tim ventured his patient was trying to keep the world real to him, needing to feel the rough carpet beneath him. His existence was hard. He struggled with daily flashbacks, each one becoming more and more violent, the terror increasingly intense, the tears, the sweat… the continued silence.

But one thing had changed drastically. The eyes that would flash at Tim were seeing eyes. Cognizant eyes. Todd had left the world of disconnectedness and had come into a state of awareness. He was back on earth.

That meant... words were coming. It was only a matter of time. They'd been sitting here for about half an hour. Tim talking, Todd listening, or at least… pretending to listen.

"Remember I told you that sometimes it's easier to recall those incidents, and deal with them, if you pretend to be a far away witness?"

Todd didn't look at his healer as he spoke, but rather concentrated on the sunlight beaming into the room, sunlight that created a checkered pattern on the carpet from the slats in the windows. He studied the shadows. He sometimes watched a patient, but always returned to the shadows.

"One idea is to imagine floating above the incident or looking at it from outside a window. Once you gain that distance, you can speak more easily about the incident, more easily express your feelings about it."

Todd suddenly turned to the doctor, flashing a tired expression, looking Tim right in the eyes, and to Tim's surprise, rasped, "Easier said than done. Never happened to YOU."

Tim popped back. Nodded. "Well hello, Todd Manning." The doctor had to resist smiling. The words had indeed come. Todd went back to the light, studying the shadows.

"You're right. It didn't happen to me. Why don't you tell me what happened to you."

Todd said nothing.

"The flashbacks you're experiencing are a message and they're saying you need to face something in your past."

"Go away," Todd whispered.

"The day you stop fighting the memory will be the day you start to heal." Tim decided to shut up. Just sat, waiting.

Sure enough, the quiet brought out a scratchy voice. "Nothing happened. Having a bad dream. That's all … it isn't real."

"The images you see are not real with regard to current time. I suspect the memories are very real … they happened."

Todd's face scrunched with hurt and anger … he rubbed his face … and eyed the sunlight again. Said quietly, "Never happened."

"Ok, but whatever it is, is coming at you with guns blazing and demanding your attention. So let's pay attention, together. Let's give it a voice and maybe then the flashbacks will go away. You'll be able to get on with your life."

"You don't understand."

"Try me."

There was no response. Todd's eyes returned to the windows, their shadows and light which offered hope to the hopeless. The pain in his body was so tiring to him, so draining. He wanted to sleep, to disappear. He missed his daughter intensely, but was so afraid for her, so afraid that he would do what Satan said he would do that he didn't dare ask or inquire about her. Keep her safe, keep her far away from me, he thought. He quelled a powerful wave of sorrow, closing his eyes.

"You've been pretty easy on Michael about the bath for the past couple of days. I think he really appreciated it. The fill-in orderly today said you weren't as . . . compliant. How come?"

Sad eyes landed on the doctor. "Don't like being touched. I hurt all over."

"We have medication for that. Can I get you to try it?"

Said softly, "I had another medication in mind."

"The drugs you were using are partly responsible for your psychosis. They won't take away what happened to you. They won't address your pain."

"Nothing happened to me!" At the last word, Todd choked back a sob, taking a deep breath to stop it. A hand on his face, eyes out the window. "Go away, go away, go away," he whispered.

"Okay, kiddo, okay." Tim could see how tired his patient was of the flashbacks. He was in agony. The detox was over however, and he would be put on medication soon. He might get to feeling better. They sat quietly for a short while, Tim wanting Todd to work through whatever emotions he was feeling before pressing ahead.

As they sat listening to their own thoughts, a janitor with a large set of keys jingling in his hand walked past the room and Tim noted Todd's immediate reaction to the sound. He turned to the noise, rubbed his hair delicately. He licked his lips and his expression became dreamy, faraway. Tim hopped up and kneeled in front of him. Another flashback. This was not letting him go.

"Todd, look at me, look at me. Remember what I told you, the distancing." Tim checked Todd's pulse, it was fast like his breathing. "Tell me what you're seeing."

"No, no, no, can't tell." Todd felt himself drifting, floating. Yet his body was heavy and he had no energy to move it. He started to shake uncontrollably. He knew what was coming and was already feeling the terror, the pain.

"Todd, relax your body, see yourself above the memory."

Todd wrapped his arms around himself and held himself, rocking, his eyes closed and emitting a low moan. "I can't, I can't…" He slammed against the back of the couch, as if something hit him. Images started to bombard him, the dark terrifying story unfolding in front of him and shocking his entire system.

"Tell me what you see by putting yourself above the scene. You aren't actually there, you're only watching it happen from far away. It's only a memory, Todd, realize that. Tell me what you see."

Listen to him, baby. Listen to him.

Although Todd was stricken with pain, on the verge of tears, he started to speak in between hard breaths.

"Her, I see her, Michelle. Her face, her hair, she's underneath me, looking at me and I'm warm, It's... it's the fireplace….making me so hot." He started to cry, whimpering, "I'm so hot…"

"Good, good, great...keep talking."

Todd's eyes flew open suddenly, his lips parting in a silent gasp, his hands shooting out in front of him. "Oh god, oh god, no, no, no, no, no ..." His body convulsed at whatever he was looking at, his hands firmly out. Then after a moment, he covered his ears, and then slid onto his side, still on the couch. His eyes closed, tears wet his cheeks. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

"It's okay. You're very, very safe. Tell me what's happening now."

Choked words came, "Oh no, oh no… oh no…I cannot tell, I cannot tell, I cannot tell. I'll die if I tell."

His voice was ragged, the words spat in between hard breaths.

"Who says you can't tell?"

"Peter! He has keys, he's here, I can't tell, I can't tell. I'll die if I tell. I'll die … and I don't want to die, don't let me die … please, please, don't let me die …"

Peter, Tim thought. We got a new name, people. And Peter says, don't tell.

Todd started crying, hardly able to breathe, his shaking becoming violent.

"Nothing is going to happen to you if you tell, Todd. Nothing at all. You're ok, you're here in the hospital. You're very safe, very very safe."

Tim thought the memory was fading, the flashback ending, but suddenly there was an uptick.

Hands flew out again… "Oh God … tell him to stop! STOP!" He screamed, groaning, and it was horrible, sounding like someone was tearing limbs off him, the noise dragging... Tim glanced at the nurse, seconds from giving him a sedative. This was too hard. Too damn hard.

"TODD! Pull away from it! Come on, kiddo!" He slipped at the pain of watching it, "Aww shit…" Waved for the nurse.

Todd pulled at his clothes, trying to protect himself, pushing himself into the pillows of the couch. The hard breaths became even further strangled. All of a sudden, he stopped the frenzied movements, hands grabbing the edge of the couch, knuckles white. Feet digging into the fabric. His mouth opened, all breath cut off… eyes completely unseeing. The nurse came over, kneeled down.

"Pull yourself away from the pictures, Todd, it's not happening now. Focus on distancing yourself, you're only an observer."

After a few moments, Todd finally took a deep breath, breathing but not as choked. Features relaxing, body relaxing. Tim wiped away the tears on his face. "Okay, okay, it's over…" He shook his head at the nurse, no meds.

"Ok, you're doing great, so great. You're completely safe … where are you now?"

Todd whimpered pitifully, shivering as if he were cold. "I don't know…"

"How old are you?"

Whispered, "I'm fourteen ..."

Tim moved himself onto the couch, Todd having rolled onto his back, his arms curled into his chest, his knees pulling up. Tim sighed. Fourteen. What a very long time ago. How cruel to be coming back now. Tim was convinced now beyond all doubt that his patient was experiencing a memory, that it happened, that it had been repressed, that it was back now with a mad vengeance.

This thing was demanding to be SEEN.

"Oh God, let me die, it's better, so much better … let me die. Please, please, please... I don't want to see it anymore…"

"You're going to get through this. Nobody will hurt you, I won't hurt you. You're ok, you're safe. You did phenomenal work. Keep talking..."

Todd whispered the warnings that haunted him, "No, no, no, no, no, don't tell, don't tell." He closed his eyes and slipped into his usual lethargy which more resembled a stunned sleep. He'd cut off his telling of the memory in its tracks again. What he did manage though was a huge step forward. At least his patient tried, at least he attempted to help himself by talking, even if it was only in snippets. Phenomenal! Especially having been told "not to tell" by probably a powerful man in his life at an incredibly vulnerable time in his life. Fourteen.

His patient lay on his back on the couch, his eyes remaining closed, whimpering in his unnatural sleep. Tim was thankful that the self-imposed silence had passed.

So what was Todd revealing? Clearly he remembered physical contact with Michelle, a young love, and it sounded sexual. Then what? This had been a violent, torturous incident, no doubt criminal. This Peter person had done something or at least knew about it and told Todd not to tell. Peter had to be a strong prohibiting force. The nurse brought Todd's file to Tim. He read his notes. Reviewed the extensive bio, criminal history, family history. History, history.

Show yourself, Peter….

"Got ya," the doctor huffed. Strong authoritative figure, all-powerful to a fourteen-year-old boy. A man named Peter who could threaten him with, don't tell, and that boy would listen… listen so deeply that his brain would block out that thing for nearly sixteen years. Ladies and gents, lemme introduce you to…

… Peter Manning, Todd's adopted father.

Cassie and Sam spent hours working on the case in Sam's office and night had finally arrived. Kevin had been gone for so long and, despite Cassie's uncertainty about Kevin's role in the bribery scheme, she missed him terribly. Nevertheless, she understood his need to pursue this story about Michelle.

He wanted to absolve himself of his guilt at having gone after Todd so hard about Georgie's murder. Not that she agreed with it. He had no reason to be guilty – Todd was a tornado in Llanview, destructive and dangerous to everything and everyone in his path. If there was a crisis involving Todd, one could bet he would drag ten other people into his stormy tantrum. Truth was she was surprised he hadn't attempted to kill himself years earlier.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Sam presenting what they had so far, practicing for the real game.

"We have a really good picture based on all the cases that have gone through Campbell's courtroom, a real pattern of bribery." He had created a map which identified all the properties picked for condemnation during the past two years. He obtained appraisals on each of the properties and declarations of each property owner. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see what was going on.

"The only thing we need is hard proof," he murmured.

The Mole was entirely correct in the story he told. The city of Llanview chose the optimum properties first, picked the neediest owners, and condemned those properties, essentially purchasing them for way under fair market value. The court approved the condemnations, decisions in direct conflict with the legal standard for eminent domain, because the corrupt parties knew the owners did not have the money to appeal the proceedings. The city pushed the condemned properties through their channels because they also had key representatives who were in on the deal. Everybody approved. But the deals were rotten to the core. Had the owners actually put up the property for sale through the regular channels, the owners would have gotten far more money than under the condemnation proceeding. In turn, Wormwood and Associates could not have purchased the property for as cheap as they got it from the city.

"Unbelievable," Cassie noted.

"Yup."

Cassie and Sam both stared at the elaborate chart which explained the long-running scam. The big difference now was that even though Judge Austin Campbell would approve the latest condemnation, Sam was willing to help bankroll the appeal for Carlotta Vega and her diner. Judge Campbell would then be on trial in the Court of Appeals. The story would be boosted by Cassie's expose. He was going to fry along with all the other participants. Cassie realized this might include Kevin and his family – not really seeing any way around it.

"What about this Wormwood and Associates?" Sam hadn't really been able to research the company which was instrumental in this whole scam and was hoping Cassie had been able to get information.

She looked at him, about to jump into something ugly and unexpected.

"Wormwood and Associates is a wholly-owned subsidiary," she said.

"Yeah? Who's the shareholder?"

Cassie shook her head. "Hold on to your hat. The sole shareholder is Manning Management Company, owned by Phillip Manning, out of Chicago, Illinois."

"What?

"Phillip Manning is Todd's cousin, a nephew of Todd's father - very rich and very corrupt. He's only managed to stay out of prison thanks to very expensive lawyers."

"You think Todd has anything to do with this?"

"I don't know yet. Do they even know each other?"

"I've no idea." Sam sat for a moment and then spoke again. "Cassie, please do me a favor."

"What?"

"If you find anything, anything at all, linking Todd to this . . . mess . . . will you tell me first before you publish anything or tell anyone else? Can you do that for me? I don't want anything else to hurt him right now."

Cassie wanted to say exactly what was on her mind about Todd, but she didn't. With a hint of resentment, she said, "I promise to tell you first. Doesn't mean it won't eventually hit the press."

"Thank you."

The two kicked back on Sam's black leather couch, surrounded by paper and charts, each mulling over their findings and each feeling a little mixed-up over their own troubles. Despite the conflict, they knew they had to move forward - hoping not too many innocents, or unfortunate guilty parties, would be destroyed in the process.

Tanya, the swing-shift nurse, was making the rounds with the assistance of an orderly, checking out the patients in Llanview Psychiatric Hospital's locked ward as they received their dinners.

As the nurse approached Todd's room, she noticed him laughing to himself on the bed, lying down with his feet up on the headboard. His long hair messily fell about his face and shoulders and he didn't appear to be visually focusing on anything in particular. Very odd behavior for this particular patient, noting it on his chart at a quarter past five o'clock.

She and the orderly exchanged glances and opened his door. Todd looked up and smirked, "Well, well, if it isn't Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum." He laughed at his own joke adding, "I hope you're not serving me dinner tonight because I don't need it." He covered his face with his hands, groaning and chuckling at the same time.

"Mr. Manning, since you don't want dinner, I'll need to take your vitals. Can we do that?"

"Vitals? Vitals? I'll give you vitals, baby." Todd swung his legs around until they hit the floor and he tried to stand up. Lost his balance and crumpled to the floor, grabbing onto the bed, and chuckling over it. When he got back up, he pointed his finger at her and walked toward the nurse, getting too close for comfort.

The orderly, Martin, stepped in front of her, blocking Todd's advancement and smiling openly.

"Hey, buddy, what's up with you tonight?"

"What's up? With me? I just want to give her my vitals, what's wrong with that, huh?"

Todd laughed again, a real laugh, then closed his eyes and stretched his neck muscles, once to each side. Breathing in deeply. He then shook his head. He turned around, starting to walk back to the bed.

Murmured, "What's wrong with me, they ask? Shit. Nothing … not a fuckin' thing. You should let me outta of this place."

Todd spun on his heels back to face the staff which stood quietly, staring at him.

"Hey, can I get some music in here or something? I feel so fucking good! I wanna DANCE!"

Something was definitely wrong. The attendants eyed each other.

"Patience, patience," he groaned, "let it go by and then it'll be better. Alllll better. Like butter. Better like butter." He laughed hard and plopped down on his bed, putting his bare feet up on the headboard, singing an 80's David Bowie song, "Let's dance…buh-da bup-bup dee-duh … let's dance …"

The nurse was visibly nervous, but had to get his vital signs to check what was going on because this was not the same person she'd seen only two hours before.

"Where's the fuckin' music, man?"

Tanya tried her negotiating skills. "You want music, no problem. But we need to make a deal for it."

"Hey, you make the deal, I'll give whatever you want, babeeee…"

Todd grimaced, and hit the side of his head again, several times, grumbling, "No, no, no, no, shut-up, just shut the fuck up…." He breathed deeply and re-composed himself, looking back at his new tormentors and speaking less aggressively for the moment.

"Ok, ok. What you need?"

Tanya smiled, "All right, we have a negotiator here."

"That's me! Negotiator, deal maker, I'm hot tonight!"

Todd smiled his most charming smile and offered up his wrists.

"Do me, do me up good," he sighed. Tanya reached for him, seeing the sadness on his face. Shaking her head. He'd gotten into something.

He was high.

Jedediah and Kevin sat for dinner in a quaint coffee shop near their hotel. Autumn was on its way in. Time to head back to Llanview. Kevin had grown close to the kid, though, and worried about what he was leaving him to – more aloneness, more truancy? But their allotted time was up and his "parents" had threatened him with juvenile court if he didn't get home.

Likewise, Jedediah didn't want Kevin to leave. For the first time he felt like he was doing something meaningful. Kevin acted like he really respected Jed. Treated him like an equal, not like a kid at all. And they'd made real headway into learning the mystery of his mother's death. Fantastic. But now it had to end. A wrenches in his spokes.

Shit wasn't over yet, though. The eldest daughter of Wilma Plankett, one of the dead witnesses, finally agreed to meet with Jedediah and Kevin. Fantastic.

Chewing on a French fry, Jedediah said, "I'm not sure I've really said how much I appreciated this whole thing you've done. You know, looking into the stuff about my mom, telling me about . . . you know, Todd Manning and stuff. Meant a lot."

Kevin smiled, reaching across the table with a pretend punch, "It's all right, buddy. You're welcome - just don't get too hung up on the Todd thing, you know? We aren't sure he's the guy." Kevin's words rang false to both of them, but each allowed the disclaimer.

Jedediah sucked on the straw of his coke. "I grew up in a place where people hid the truth from me. I appreciated you just laying it out there. I mean it." He looked down shyly, "Not a lot of people have done that for me."

Kevin knew how much this all meant to him, but didn't want to embarrass Jedediah with too much emotion … so he said, "Don't call me though when you find out your dad is really Chip Johnson, insurance salesman from Arkansas."

Quiet chuckles came from both men, relieving the tension. Kevin reached over and ruffled Jed's hair. "You're all right, kid," he said. "Any man would be proud to have you for a son."

They drank their drinks, worked on their burgers and talked about Jed's favorite kind of movies: horror movies. The older the better. After a while, Jed asked in an off-the-cuff way, "So what can I do ... uh ... to really see if Todd's my dad? What now? Like… now." He raised his piercing hazel eyes to Kevin. He meant business. Pussyfooting on the issue was over, especially now that Jed made sure to tell Kevin how important honesty and truth were. Manipulative bastard, Kevin thought to himself. Didn't need a goddamn DNA test to be sure about who his father was.

"A blood test," Kevin answered, "genetic testing. You'll have to wait for Todd to get on his feet, though. What kind of blood type do you have, anyway? Do you know?"

"Yeah, type O negative." He picked up a fry, dipped it into the ketchup and ate it. "When do you think he'll be on his feet?"

Dragging his coke closer to him, Kevin took some sips. Jed's blood type matched Todd's perfectly. There wasn't any question left. Jed was positively, incontrovertibly, Todd's son.

Letting his gaze linger on the kid a bit longer, he answered, "I'm not sure when he'll be well enough. I'll keep your blood type in mind though. Tell the doctors. I'll see what type Todd has - maybe it'll mean something."

The waitress walked up to their table and asked if they wanted anything else. They both shook their heads, no, and then Kevin noticed a young lady at the door of the cafe, looking around nervously. She fit the description of Hannah Plankett, their last hope to an accurate witness's description of Michelle's jump. He stood up and walked over to her.

"Miss Plankett?"

"Yeah, Mr. Buchanan?"

"Call me Kevin. Thanks for coming."

Hannah had long red hair which she wore in a thick braid that ran down her back. She wore a polka-dot print, country-style dress reaching down to her ankles and delicate suede boots, laced, all under a black wool coat. She was very fair-skinned, looking to be in her forties. Deep lines creased her forehead giving her a permanent look of worry. She took one last glance at the street before following Kevin to his table.

"You took quite a trip from up in those hills, Hannah. Again, can't tell you how glad we are you agreed to come." Hannah slipped into the booth next to Jedediah who immediately introduced himself. They shook hands.

Kevin jumped right into the purpose of the meeting.

"Your mom gave a witness statement concerning Michelle Chant, a young lady who jumped into the river about eight years ago. We want to talk to you about it. And sorry to hear about her passing."

Hannah kept looking toward the door of the cafe.

"Thank you. A car accident. She was run off the road and we never found who did it."

"That's rough."

"Mr. Buchanan, I came here to tell you, to beg you, to quit asking about Michelle Chant and my mother's statement. Let sleeping dogs lie, please."

Kevin and Jedediah were stunned … Jedediah got impatient, his youth revealing itself.

"What are you talking about? I'm not gonna let 'sleeping dogs lie'! We're talking about my mother! I want to know what happened to her!"

Hannah's eyes went down immediately to her lap. She did not see Kevin's reproaching look at Jedediah, but she did hear his admonition.

"I'll handle it, Jed." He turned back to Hannah.

"Look, this is a highly emotional issue for us. I'm not going to spread your name across Kingdom Come - I'll hide your identity."

Hannah continued with her silence.

"Is there someone following you? Is that why you're afraid to say something?"

She looked up finally, "Listen, it's dangerous what you're doing. They've been watching you ever since you were at the police station."

"Who?"

"Everybody, nobody. My mother was a witness… and so was I. But we were told never to say what happened and if I say something now, I could end up dead. Just like my mother. You need to drop this and move on."

She started to get up, but Kevin grabbed her by the wrist. Hannah gasped, "Let go of me!"

"Not until you tell us what you saw!"

"NO!" She pulled her arm away and ran out of the restaurant. Kevin glanced over at Jedediah and yelled to him as he made a quick decision to chase Hannah.

"Stay here!"

Jedediah, being the "rebellious soul," didn't stay put and hopped up to follow Kevin right out of the cafe. He saw him turn the corner into an alley and ran to the end of it. He stood there as he saw Kevin stop Hannah by once again grabbing her arm.

"Please, don't do this to us. Tell us what you saw - I'm begging you, here, for the sake of the kid … please." Hannah jerked her hand away and ran like hell. Kevin didn't chase her this time. He turned and was met with the devastated eyes of Jedediah.

"You let her go?! YOU LET HER GO?!"

"Jed, stop it! We'll get the information! You'll see!"

Just as Kevin said those words, Jedediah and Kevin were jumped by two large masked men and wrestled to the ground. The one who had Kevin warned him, "Let it go, reporter, let it go. Otherwise, it might be you that lands in the river." With that last word, he punched Kevin with a closed fist, knocking him unconscious.

The other left Jedediah, knowing the boy would immediately go to his mentor rather than attempt to take them on. And of course, he was correct.

Tim stood at the window to Todd's room, watching him alternate from lying on the bed, to sitting on the chair, to walking around, to animatedly ranting. He'd had a bad day. Early in the morning, he had a severe flashback and later, kept insisting there hadn't been any trauma… then shifted gears. Said sure, something happened, but he'd wanted it to occur, he liked it, that this thing had transformed into something worse than what it really was. He liked it and he wanted it, he kept saying. He even asked for it. Shifted gears again to saying nothing happening at all and begged for something to make it all go away.

Does this have anything to do with your father, Peter Manning?

Tim got silence to that question, his patient's eyes glazing over, his whole body in freeze frame. Lost a lot of minutes in empty space. Bingo. Peter…. was Peter Manning.

Flipping through the daily report, Tim reread the swing-shift nurse's observations of his strange behavior.

His respiration and pulse had been high and since about 7:30 or so, he had begun to show signs of returning to his earlier delusional state. This was a stark contrast to the depression he'd been in only hours before. The nurses, with some struggle, did manage to draw blood for an immediate drug test. Tanya said he seemed drugged. She said he wouldn't sleep, eat or drink. He was completely wired. He moved back and forth between being intensely jocular to pissed-off as all get-out. The report said he demanded to walk the hallways and consultation room, getting very hostile to those who didn't allow him to leave his room. Todd then became aggressive and anxious, going into major attack mode. Only the orderlies with the most serious constitutions took him on, Michael being one of them. They managed to restrain him … get him under control. They couldn't administer any meds at that point because of the suspicious nature of his behavior.

And he'd been this way for almost five hours.

The doctor left and headed to the nurse's station, immediately asking questions about Todd. After hearing denials and uncertainty, he took on an even more threatening appearance - his hefty size, his flashing blue eyes, were intimidating. He stood in front of the lead nurse. "Tell me something that's not in this file."

"Everything is there, doctor," the nurse insisted. She was the sacrificial lamb - she knew she was in serious trouble.

"Did he have any visitors today?"

"Visitors? He's not permitted visitors."

"That's right. So tell me something … that's not in the file."

The recently appointed lead nurse cleared her throat and checked the visitor's log, running her fingers down the pages as calmly as she possibly could. She stopped cold. Glanced up at Tim … glanced at the other nurses who shook their heads …

"Yes," she said softly. "A male visitor at 3:45 p.m. named Paulie Smith who indicated he was Mr. Manning's personal assistant and that it was an emergency regarding his business, the Sun Newspaper. He left at 4:00 p.m."

She stood as straight as she could and looked at her boss. "I'm so sorry…"

"Damn," Tim groaned, rubbing his face in aggravation, maintaining his cool at the breach of procedure.

Just at that moment, a lab technician wearing a matter-of-fact smile and wire-rimmed glasses strolled up to the nurse's station and handed a sheet of paper to the doctor, "Your boy's hot, doc. Tested positive for crank."

Tim took a deep breath, shaking his head, and with an angry grunt threw a stack of papers he was carrying in his hand, making everyone jump. The papers hit the wall and scattered across the floor. The nurses stiffened, one of them scrambling to gather the paperwork. The lab technician snuck away, not wanting to be at the receiving end of Dr. Graham's further outrage.

Calming himself, regaining his professionalism, Tim turned back to the station and grabbed Todd's file off the counter. Shook it and said, "NO GODDAMN VISITORS UNLESS I APPROVE IT!"

The nurse nodded.

"I want a full report. I want to know exactly how that drug pusher got in here and how he was able to give my patient methamphetamine right under your noses. If that young man had died from ingesting illegal drugs, it would have been on your conscience."

Tim stalked back to his office and slammed the door shut. After doing breathing exercises to temper his anger, he picked up the lone picture on his desk of his friend … Jonathan, a special friend who was no longer here, no longer on this earth. Tim touched the smiling face in the photograph and couldn't help but smile back at it.

"I know," he said, "I shouldn't get so involved. Too late, kiddo."

Kevin blinked away the darkness that had just been surrounding him. He found himself staring into the big eyes of a very concerned Jedediah.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, I have the worst headache."

Kevin lifted himself onto his elbows, what happened coming back to him in bits and pieces. "Who the hell were those guys?" he asked.

Relief flowed over Jedediah, his face seeming to regain color. He answered, "I don't know, but they were pretty serious about you."

"Excuse me, I think you're in this, too." Kevin ran a hand over his face and head and looked around the hospital. Blood and water and Todd washed across his mind. He shook it away. "What time is it?"

"Eleven. The doctor said we had to wait for you to come around. You might have a concussion."

"Great."

A young male doctor wearing a red turban walked into the room, commenting, "So I hear you had a bit of a roughing-up?"

"Yeah, cornered by a couple of goons. When can I get outta here, doc?"

"Not quite yet. We need to run a CAT-scan just to be sure things are good. It won't take long." The doctor looked into Kevin's eyes with his penlight and read the file for vital signs. He asked Kevin some general health questions and then he left.

"We going to try to get Hannah back? She knows about my mom. I can't let this go."

"I know, Jed. Listen, I know where she lives but we need to lie low for a while, okay? Just wait for the heat to die down. I'll be back, I promise. On my life, I will not let this go."

Kevin looked hard at Jedediah, hating to let this boy down. He looked at those hazel eyes and he saw a rare courage there. But he knew it was borne from the loss of Michelle, from his upbringing in a loveless home. Kevin's mind drifted back to Todd, wondering if he'd ever meet his son?

Jedediah smiled sadly at Kevin and sat on a chair next to Kevin's bed.

"Alright, guess there's nothing to do right now except wait. Been waiting a long time already … no harm in a little more waiting."

To be continued….