by Ben Follows
She looked back at him and shrugged. She didn't suppose it could hurt.
Dennis sat on the couch beside Todd. Baxter leaned a little further over Todd's lap.
O'Reilly joined Liam in the doorway.
"How are you, Todd?" said Dennis.
"You're a cop," Todd looked up at him. "You didn't fool me for a second."
Dennis laughed. "I think I fooled you at first, but you saw through the charade. If you were guilty you would have opened up to me."
Todd shrugged. "Maybe."
"Todd," Dennis turned and leaned over the back of the couch, "can I ask you a question?"
"What?"
"If you could put your hands around Ricky's neck, what would you do?"
He frowned.
"You would kill him," said Dennis, "wouldn't you?"
Todd shrugged. "It sounds messed up, but I can sort of understand why Marcus killed Tatiana. She ripped his entire life away from him." He frowned and looked around. "Where's the big quiet guy?"
"Cockerton couldn't be here," said Dennis.
"Todd," said Dennis. "We are giving you an opportunity to get your revenge."
Todd swallowed. "I couldn't do that to Danielle."
"What do you mean?"
Todd scratched behind Baxter's ears, making the dog's tail wag. "She loves him, and I love her," he said. "I can't do that."
"Todd," said Dennis. "Don't be an idiot."
O'Reilly stepped forward. Liam reached out and grabbed her arm. She looked down at his hand on her arm and put her other hand on her gun.
"This might work," said Liam, nodding at Todd and Dennis.
She frowned and stepped back. She shook off his arm.
"Don't touch me again," she said.
Liam nodded.
"I know," said Todd to Dennis, "but it doesn't matter. I wanted to save her."
"Todd, Danielle wasn't worthy of you."
Todd looked up at Dennis and shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I know it's ridiculous. I keep wondering if this is all a big misunderstanding. What if she's waiting for me to come back?"
Dennis glanced back at O'Reilly then at Todd. "If you help us," he said. "you can find out."
Todd looked up at him.
"You can get your answer."
Todd leaned forward and put his head in his hands. Baxter whined and looked at his owner.
After a few moments, Todd looked up. "What do you need me to do?"
68
When Marcus woke up, the world was unclear.
He shook his head to clear away the haze from being knocked out. As he did, he figured out where he was and what position he was in.
His hands were above him, held in cuffs suspended from a pipe.
He was in a humid, stone-walled basement. Metal shelves with dust covered boxes lined the walls. In the center of the room was a metal table.
On the table were knives, a defibrillator, and a key which looked like it would fit the cuffs which held him to the pipe. The only light came from the staircase on the far side of the basement.
He looked up at his hands.
He was handcuffed to a large pipe, and above that, hanging from the roof by a string, dangled his Army Commendation Medal.
Marcus swallowed as he looked at the medal.
It danced and spun as he struggled against the pipe. Light reflected off the serrated edges of the metal.
Marcus pulled himself up in a jerking motion and tried to grab the medal. He came a few inches short.
He shook his arms, trying to dislodge the pipe and get free. The pipe didn't budge.
He took a deep breath and looked down.
His eyes opened wide and he let out a high-pitched whimper.
The pipe he was tied to couldn't have been more than four feet off the ground. His legs were piled on the floor. He looked from his crumpled legs, to the medal dangling just out of his reach.
In the end, it wasn't the medal he had wanted his entire life dangling just out of his reach that broke him. It was the fact that if he had been whole, he could have stood up and walked out. He tried, and his legs didn't respond.
The medal and his legs were a constant reminder of what he was and what he had done.
He was slowly falling apart and decaying, and soon there would be nothing left of the man he had thought he was.
69
Marcus was staring blankly at the floor when the basement door opened.
Ricky stepped off the bottom of the steps, smoking a cigar.
"Marcus!" he said joyfully. "I'm so glad to see you. I'll bet you didn't see that thing with Cockerton coming. It was actually amazingly easy to get him on my side. He's got a lot of pent-up aggression because of his brother’s death."
Marcus looked up at him. "You could have run," he said. "You could have been a million miles away from Harper's Mill by now. Why are you still here?"
"We'll be gone soon." Ricky grabbed a metal folding chair which was leaning against the wall. He walked around the table and set it up in front of Marcus. "Part of Danielle clearing out her past involved Todd. Everyone else has been taken care of except him. Danielle will bring Todd here. It will be over and we’ll be gone before the police clue in. "
Marcus stared at him. "You're staying behind for Danielle?"
Ricky grinned as he finished setting up the chair and sat down. He crossed his legs. "You thought I would just abandon her? You clearly don't have much faith in me. If I can kill Todd as well, that would be icing on the cake."
"I don't understand."
Ricky crossed his legs and leaned back. "You don't, but you will. You truly have an amazing daughter, Marcus."
Marcus swallowed. "Why don't you just kill me and put me out of my misery?"
Ricky reached into his pocket and took out a folded sheet of paper. He held it out so Marcus could see it.
"This is a form giving me power of attorney over all your affairs," said Ricky. "I've spoken with Giordano. He has agreed to transfer your money to an account of my choice on the condition that you sign this form. Giordano is a great guy. All he cares about is not getting into legal trouble. I don't know how Angela found him."
Marcus looked over the form at Ricky. "You stopped the money going to the charities?"
Ricky let out an exasperated sigh. "Danielle already told you that. Why don't you sign it? I tried forging your signature, but Giordano wouldn't accept it. It needs to be you."
"Fuck you."
"I assumed as much." Ricky folded the form and placed it on the metal table. He stood and walked around the table. After a moment of deliberation, he picked up a pair of pliers.
"Let me ask you a question, Marcus? Between you and I, who's a worse person?"
Marcus laughed. "You're torturing me. Isn't it obvious?"
Ricky walked toward Marcus, holding the pliers. "Sam and Victoria told me about Jeff. What kind of message does that send? How many people look to you for inspiration and strength? What will happen to them when this story gets out? How many deaths will be on your hands, Marcus?"
Marcus stared at him. "Why did you kill the Shembly's?"
"Because Danielle asked me to."
Ricky pinched the skin on Marcus's right arm, just above the elbow. Marcus clenched his teeth. With his free hand, Ricky took the pliers and squeezed the skin together as hard as he could.
Marcus screamed.
Ricky took off the pliers and stepped back.
Marcus breathed through his nose as the pain radiated through his entire body.
Ricky took a step back.
Marcus looked at his arm. The skin where the pliers had been was turning blue.
Ricky stepped close to him. "Will you sign the agreement?"
Marcus gritted his teeth. "You'll kill me anyway."
Ricky shrugged. "The pain will stop."
"I will never sign it."
"That's a shame." Ricky walked back to the table and grabbed a large hunting knife. "What do you think of that medal? We found it
in your luggage."
Marcus looked at the medal dangling above him.
Ricky looked at the blade of the knife. "The medal is a reminder of how much people respected you. It's a reminder of all the people you lied to and deceived."
Marcus looked at the medal, then at Ricky.
Ricky started walking toward him, holding the large knife. "Which of your toes is your favorite? It should cause enough blood loss to get the point across without you passing out from the pain."
Marcus looked around the basement, then began laughing.
Ricky stopped, frowning. "Are you finally losing it, Marcus?"
"You don't get it," said Marcus. "You're the underdog here."
Ricky gestured to the basement around them and the restraints which held Marcus. "What are you talking about?"
Marcus laughed through gritted teeth. "If you want to win, you need to break me. You need me to willingly sign that form. If I die, that money goes to the charities and helps find missing children. All I need to do is die."
"Is that so?" Ricky grabbed Marcus's left foot and pulled off his socks.
Marcus tried to pulled away and hit the medal out of the way, making it spin and reflected the light of the stairwell.
"I'm not worried," said Ricky.
Marcus flailed against Ricky's grip.
Ricky's grip on his foot held firm. He took the knife and held it against the toe.
Ricky began sawing back and forth through the skin like it was the bark of a small tree.
Even though he couldn't feel the pain, Marcus screamed.
The knife ground against bone.
Marcus could feel his legs shaking.
Ricky stepped back.
Marcus stared at the spinning medal, trying not to look down.
After a few moments Marcus finally found the courage to look down
Ricky held the bloody knife in one hand and Marcus's toe in the other. The toe twitched as the last of the blood that had been inside it dropped onto the floor.
Ricky looked at the toe. He grinned and tossed it on the floor. It stopped just short of Marcus's legs. Marcus looked down and saw the growing pool of blood. He immediately jerked his eyes back to the ceiling.
"How about that signature?" said Ricky.
"Fuck you," said Marcus.
Ricky smirked. "I'm going to go and get a bandage for that foot," he said. "I wouldn't want you bleeding to death. I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."
Ricky laughed and walked to the staircase.
The basement door opened and closed.
Once Marcus was certain Ricky was gone, he looked around the basement for some way to get out, some way to escape from this living hell.
After scanning the basement, his eyes finally came to rest on the medal dangling above him. Ricky had meant it as a reminder of his failures, but the serrated edges gave Marcus another idea. The handcuffs had already cut through the skin of his wrist.
If he could just grab the medal, he could cut into his wrists and end it all. He could win.
At that moment, he made a promise to himself.
One way or another, that basement was where he was going to die.
70
Todd smoothed out his hair and made sure there were no wilting flowers in the bouquet.
He looked back at the unmarked police van sitting in the hospital parking lot and readjusted the wire attached to his shaved chest.
O'Reilly and Dennis were sitting inside the truck, listening to everything.
Todd took a deep breath and entered the hospital.
He spoke with a nurse, and found that Danielle was on the third floor. He rode the elevator up and found the room.
There were two police officers sitting outside the room who nodded to him as he entered.
There were two beds, but only one was occupied. Danielle sat on the far bed, staring out the window. Her knees were pulled to her chest. Her hair fluttered as the slight breeze came through the open window.
Her arm was in a plaster cast. Stitches covered her face. The worn-in scars on her back poked out of the hospital gown.
He cleared his throat. Danielle turned toward him.
"Todd," she said, smiling. "I can't believe you came."
He held out the flowers. "Did you think I wouldn't?"
He walked over to her. She took the flowers and sniffed, inhaling their scent. There was nothing malicious about her. Todd couldn't help but wonder how this was the same person who had laughed at her parent's deaths less than a day prior.
"After all I did," she said, putting the flowers into a glass of water on the side table, "I wasn't sure. I'm sorry, Todd. I've been terrible. I should have told you everything. Now I don't know if explaining will help."
Todd took a seat beside the bed. "What do you mean?"
"Everything I did was a lie," said Danielle. "I needed to exorcise the demons of my past. You understand that, don't you?"
"I don't."
"Promise me something, Todd. You can't tell anyone."
"I won't tell anyone," he said. When she looked away and out the window, he took a chance to make sure the recording device was firmly fastened to his chest.
"I should have said this earlier." Danielle leaned back against the pillows. "I'm sorry."
Todd felt a lump form in his chest and began to wonder whether he 'd made a mistake.
"What happened, Danielle?"
"I wanted to get rid of Charles and Jamie. They killed my biological mother, Cassandra. I never wanted Tatiana to die. She had her flaws, and she criticized me way too much, but I loved her."
"Then Marcus killed her," said Todd, "and took away any doubt."
Danielle nodded. "Exactly."
"There must have been a better way."
"There wasn't."
Todd looked out the window. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm going to leave the hospital today. Do you remember what you asked me last week?"
Todd swallowed. "It feels like an eternity ago."
She smiled. "The answer is yes."
Todd blinked. "Really?"
"I'm sorry. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
Todd couldn't believe it. "You'll move in with me?"
"Yes."
"What about Ricky?"
"Ricky doesn't matter anymore. All he wants is the money. He'll get that from Marcus Devereaux. He'll be gone soon enough."
Todd swallowed and nodded. "Let's get out of here. I'm going to go to the bathroom then we'll head out."
Danielle leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Todd smiled and walked out of the room.
He walked into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror.
He locked eyes with himself, trying to make sense of the war inside his mind.
71
Todd splashed his face and walked into a stall. He lowered the seat and sat down, his head in his hands.
"What do I do?" he said to the empty bathroom.
He grabbed onto the recording device on his chest. He considered ripping it off and flushing it down the toilet.
There were goosebumps on his arms.
After a few minutes of holding the recording device and almost tearing it off, there was a knock at the door to the stall.
"Todd?" said a voice.
Todd frowned. "Detective O'Reilly? This is the men's bathroom."
"Dennis is blocking the door," she said. "He'll tell anyone that comes by that it's official police business. Come out and talk about this. I know how you feel."
"How would you know how I feel?"
"We'll talk about it."
Todd sighed and exited the stall. O'Reilly was leaning against the sink, arms crossed.
"I'm here," said Todd. "I'm feeling pretty damn conflicted about this whole thing."
O'Reilly looked away. "How much do know about my former partner, Matt Cockerton?"
Todd crossed his arms and leaned against the stall. "He's a big police detective. Dennis said he doesn't
talk much because he has a high-pitched voice."
O'Reilly glanced past Todd then back at him. "Matt had a brother, Carl. When Dennis returned from three years undercover with the Neo-Nazi’s, he was partnered with Carl and put on patrol. On the fourth day, while on patrol, they ran into one of the Neo-Nazi's who had slipped through the cracks. Carl was killed. Dennis shot the Neo-Nazi three times, killing him. Dennis was honored as a hero, but he quit the force. There was some speculation that he held himself responsible. Most people discarded the idea as ridiculous."
"Cockerton didn't?"
"No," said O'Reilly. "He never talked about it, and because of his condition he always had an excuse to avoid the topic of conversation. Matt thinks Dennis killed his brother."
"Did Dennis kill Carl?"
O'Reilly shrugged. "I don't know. If anything, I think it was a lack of action on Dennis's part which caused Carl's death. I don't think it was intentional."
"What's your point?" said Todd.
From outside the bathroom, Dennis yelled, "This is official police business. Hold it for five seconds. You're a grown man."
O'Reilly glanced at the door then back at Todd. "Yesterday, Ricky and Marcus escaped from police custody. Detective Peters was murdered. Matt was nowhere to be found. Why wasn't Matt killed? Why wasn't he left in the trunk with Peters?"
Todd was beginning to see her point. "You think he's involved somehow?"
O'Reilly shrugged. "I don't know what to think anymore. I want to believe there's a logical explanation. Deep down, I know what the most likely answer is. Cockerton accepted money in exchange for his morals and his code of ethics. I am prepared if that's the truth."
"You're saying I have to do the same thing with Danielle."
O'Reilly nodded. "Maybe what she says is true, but it probably isn't. Her explanation doesn't justify her actions. You can hope, but the truth will come out."
"You're saying I should keep wearing the wire until I'm sure?"
O'Reilly stood. "Todd, what if you find out Danielle is nothing but what she has shown herself to be?"
"What if she isn't? "
"We're in this together, Todd. Remember that."
