A Final Session
Chapter Ten
Jim was aware that someone had placed their hand gently on the side of his head and was stroking his hair. The side of his face burned, his stomach lurched unpleasantly and he felt cramp in his knees but that didn't matter. All that mattered were the gentle fingers and how calm they made him feel. "Christie?" He muttered. It was the kind of gesture she would make, tousling his hair, caressing his temple when he was stressed. She always knew how to relax him. Those fingertips relaxed him now. "Christie?" He could smell her perfume. It made him want to cry.
"Wake up." A gentle voice whispered. The fingers disappeared. "Wake up James." The voice was harder now.
Suddenly swirling memories of where he was came to him through a heavy veil of throbbing pain. He licked his lips and tasted blood. He tried to raise his head but it felt too heavy. His right knee, the one he had whacked on the locker, was pressing painfully onto the wood of the floor and he realized he was no longer sitting but kneeling and something was twisted around each ankle. Rope. Just like his wrists he realized. Rope was fastened around his right ankle, looped behind the kissing pole and then fastened around his left ankle.
"Just to stop you kicking me again. You do understand, don't you James?"
Jim tried to open his eyes but he couldn't. He wanted to go to sleep so badly but that little voice was back in his head telling him not to, telling him to stay with it. Focus.
"I'll tell you what James, I think we're nearly done here. I'll just go check on our girl, make sure she's sound asleep, and then I'll be back."
Nearly done? Jim's mind raced as he struggled to gather his thoughts. Think. Just think. How much time did he have left? The others… the other vics had been held all night by this guy and he finished it in the early hours of the morning, so how much time did he have? Could he string this out any? He could hear Edward's soft footsteps moving towards the bedroom door. "Wait." He breathed. Edward stopped. "What time is it?"
Edward moved back towards Jim. "Is there a clock in here James? Tell me where I might see a clock and I'll tell you the time."
Jim thought hard. There had been one he was sure, a wall clock that Christie had picked out. She'd said it was by some designer that he couldn't remember but now, like the ceiling fan in the bedroom, he couldn't be sure where it was or even if they still had it. He swallowed. Now that the notion of finding out the time was in his head he couldn't let it go. He knew it was macabre to want to know so desperately how much time he had left to live, but he had to find out, had to have some control, even if it could only be gained by knowing how soon he was going to die. He was desperate to know and he had an idea of how to get Edward to tell him. He'd try pushing his buttons for a change.
"I don't know where the clock is. It's one of those things that … my wife always does for me." He said weakly
"Unless you have your special watch on." Edward replied.
"Right, but without it I'm lost Edward."
Edward paused, silent for a moment and then turned to head for the bedroom. "I'll help you. Don't worry." He said over his shoulder.
He had left the room, Jim was sure of it. He listened intently, trying to hear a noise that could tell him Christie was ok, that Edward wasn't hurting her. Stop, he said to himself. That wasn't this guy's pattern. He didn't hurt the women. Jim turned his head sharply as he heard Edward return, the movement sending waves of pain and dizziness over him.
"Sleeping like an angel." Edward said almost to himself. "I have something for you James."
Jim heard Edward's footsteps as he walked over to his side, heard the rustle of fabric as he knelt next to him. He felt something touch the back of his fingers, a gesture Jim associated with someone wanting him to take something they had. His fingers flexed instinctively, his movements hindered by the tight rope he could only awkwardly raise his hand, not search forward. He swallowed down a mixture of anger and humiliation and pulled against the rope desperate to feel ahead of him.
"I'm holding it above your hand. You can reach up. Come on, take it from me." Edward's voice challenged.
"Set it down by my hand and I can get it." Jim replied, wincing as the cut on his lip stung viciously.
"No. Take it from me."
Normally Jim would do anything to avoid groping around whilst someone stood by and watched but the desire to anchor himself to something concrete like the time was overwhelming, forcing him to swallow his pride.
"It's real close James." Edward encouraged, his arm aching as he crouched down holding the watch. Staring as this man struggled painfully against the pole and the rope in order to raise his hand, only to find empty space, gave Edward that same God like feeling he had experienced in the waiting room the day before. He held everything this man wanted in his hand. It was such a small thing, just to know the time, and he needed Edward to help him do it.
Arbitrarily he decided he'd give him just a few seconds to reach his goal. Just a few more seconds to reach up and if he didn't connect with the watch he wouldn't let him have it. It would be a shame though Edward thought, because in a way he was really rooting for James to come out on top and find the dangling watch. His breath caught in his throat as he watched the shaking hand move tentatively up through the air and jerk to a stop when the rope refused to slide up the kissing pole any further. He almost cried out as the fingers stretched up as far as they could against the pull of the rope looking like they would fall short of their goal by a mere fraction but then the rope slid a little further upwards and in an instant the searching fingers connected with the dangling strap and the watch was snatched away.
Once his watch was in his hand Jim put his palm flat on the floor, the watch safely cupped beneath it. He didn't trust Edward not to grab it so he fought the urge to immediately flip the crystal and feel for the hands. He couldn't have Edward take the watch after the monumental effort it had just taken to get it. He was aware that he was sweating and his shoulder muscles had cramped painfully against being forced back unnaturally just so he could raise his arm. After a moment he heard Edward stand up and sit back in the chair. Only then did Jim move his fingers to wedge the watch against the side of his hand whilst he awkwardly flipped the crystal with his thumb. His fingers were shaking so much he couldn't tell what he was feeling. Calm down, he commanded himself. He took a breath, steadied himself and felt for the hands. He exhaled sharply his head bowing a little. 4.45. It was nearly time.
As Edward watched Jim's fingers lightly brush the hands of the watch he turned his head away and closed his eyes. Swallowing hard he said, "I think this is getting out of hand and I really don't want to hurt you. You don't deserve this to be hard. Some do, but not you. You can't help how you are."
Jim heard the chilling rattle of pills as they tumbled around a pill bottle.
"You're just holding her back James. She can't be fully happy with you; you can't take care of her, protect her and give her what she needs. Do it for her James. Take the pills. I'll help you and then you'll feel better."
Jim coughed and shook his head. "No." He managed.
"For her James. I can't let her suffer like this."
"No" He said again, his voice a little stronger.
"Please?" Edward whispered.
Jims temper rose. "You don't know anything about me or us." He spat. "My wife chooses to be with me because she wants to be. I contribute as much to our marriage as she does. I support her as much as she does me. She has as many faults as I do. I'm not perfect but my life has value! Those other people you've helped, their lives had value!" He gasped, surprising himself with the conviction he heard in his voice.
Edward was quiet for a moment as he contemplated the man in front of him. "I've never treated anyone who wouldn't see things my way before." He said dangerously. "You understand I can't leave it like this? If you won't help her then I will. I'll just have to let her go instead. A little more chloroform and she'll be free."
Jim leaned his head back until it touched the pole behind him and breathed deeply, his breath sounding fluttery in his ears.
"Do you want me to do it that way James? Do you want her life to be over?"
Jim closed his eyes for what felt like an eternity and then shook his head, defeated.
"I'll get you some water." Edward said, the smile plain in his voice.
Karen was aware that she was shaking slightly as she sat in the car next to Marty who wove dangerously in and out of the small amount of traffic that was on the roads at that time in the morning. She looked at her watch again. It was coming up to 5 am.
"I tried his home number but it's ringing out." She glanced at Marty, a frightened look on her face.
"Don't worry. He'll just be asleep and you can kick his ass for having you worry and then he can kick my ass for waking him up." Marty joked but Karen noticed that he did not look convinced by what he had just said.
"Relax. Ten minutes and we'll be there and the squad car will probably beat us to it. And we got Tom; he might already be there. Don't worry."
"Marty?"
"Yeah?"
"I am worried. He always picks up." She peered over at Marty, her brows knitting together.
"Look, if this nut is there then we gotta remember that he went easier on the Goldberg guy. It stands to reason that if he's targeted Jim then he's not gonna go as hard on him as the other two vics." Marty asserted. "He's not gonna be as pissed about a disability is he? We may have a bit more time!"
Karen took a breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Opening them she stared at the vanishing road ahead. "How d'ya think he's gonna go on adultery Marty?" She asked.
"You're kiddin' me right?" Marty pressed the accelerator to the floor.
Edward returned to where Jim knelt with a glass of cold water in his hand. He pulled a large pill bottle from his pocket and popped the lid with his thumb. Putting his hand in Jim's hair he pulled his head back a little "Open your mouth." He whispered. Jim did as he asked, gagging slightly as Edward tipped a quarter of the contents of the bottle into his mouth. "Shh" Edward soothed. "Have some water." He put the glass to Jim's bloodied lips and tipped it slightly. Jim spluttered. The water splashed down his front streaking the dried blood on his chest creating tiny pink rivulets that ran down his body only to disappear as they met the waist of his pyjama bottoms. Jim coughed some more and then gasped for air as he swallowed the mass of tablets and water. Before he could catch his breath Edward tipped another load of tablets and water into his mouth causing him to cough again. Jim swallowed and swallowed again, the cold water making his stomach cramp violently. His thoughts swam, he couldn't hold his head up anymore and Edward's voice seemed to come from miles away. He felt his whole body sag and pull against the ropes as Edward released the grip on his hair. He realised that for the first time in over a week he wasn't hot. He felt cold, so cold he was shivering.
"You did good James. She'll be ok now." Edward whispered from far away. He tried to nod. Christie would be ok. He had protected her. It had cost him his life but he had stopped this guy from hurting her and she would be ok. With that thought Jim felt himself relax and let go, a blanket of nothingness wrapping itself around him.
He wanted to stay there, floating in the dark but he could hear a noise that kept tugging him back, a faint banging and then voices, faint voices that grew around him until they turned into a single voice. The single voice was new, new and loud and very angry. It was the last voice Jim heard.
"Lay face down on the floor with your hands above your head and don't you move or I'll blow your fucking head off!"
Marty and Karen had pulled up outside the Dunbar's apartment block at the same time as the squad car. Flinging the doors open they both leapt out of the car and hurried towards the front door. Karen glanced upward and noticed a dim light was on in the apartment. Marty called over to the two uniforms as they climbed out of their car.
"You got something in case we need to break the door down?"
"Sure." One of the uniforms replied as the other went to the boot of the car to retrieve the hand held ram.
Marty pulled at the front door, which surprisingly, swung open in his hand. "What floor Karen?"
"Fourth." She replied, her mouth dry, as they ran down the hall towards the lift doors. Waiting for the lift to reach the fourth floor was a living nightmare. "Shoulda took the stairs." Marty sung under his breath, his nerves beginning to show. Karen was about to say something in response when the doors opened accompanied by the soft ping of the bell.
Silently they made their way down the heavily carpeted hallway to Jim and Christie's door. Positioning themselves at either side of the frame Karen and Marty listened carefully for any sounds from within. Karen thought she heard someone coughing but then nothing. All was quiet. Marty faced Karen and gave her a short nod. Balling his fist he banged on the door with the side of his hand. No response. He hammered again. Nothing. Turning to the uniforms he ordered, "Open it."
One of the uniformed officers stood in front of the door, steadied the ram and then swung it back. It connected with a heavy thud, which sent the door shuddering open on its hinges.
Marty stepped in through the doorway his weapon drawn, aware of Karen stepping in a little way behind him. They found themselves face to face with a very pale young man. He stood by the kitchen area with an empty glass in his blood stained hand. He didn't move, he just stared, a vaguely surprised look on his face. His dark eyes darted from Marty across to Karen and then back to Marty again. He swallowed and then opened his mouth as if to speak but said nothing.
Karen stepped past Marty and into the living area without taking her eyes from the man and Marty, who had his gun trained unwaveringly at his chest. The silence yawned and Karen realised she was holding her breath.
Suddenly a loud click, like a whip crack, emanated from the mans jacket pocket. As if he had needed some catalyst to help him spring into action Marty took one, two, three fluid steps towards the man, his gun held straight. "Lay face down on the floor with your hands above your head and don't you move or I'll blow your fucking head off." He shouted.
The man looked for a moment as if he was going to cry. His lower lip trembled and he looked petulant as he stared at Marty.
"Give me an excuse to shoot you." Marty shouted again, the quick triple click of his gun announcing the safety was going off.
Edward flinched at the volume and tone of Marty's voice. Dropping the glass he scrambled to the floor. Looking down Marty trained his gaze on Edward.
"Karen, cuff him" He ordered.
When he didn't hear Karen respond or move he raised his voice a little, "Karen." He glanced to his side where Karen was standing by the kissing pole. She hadn't heard him. Jerking his head back to the patrolmen he said, "One of you guys cuff this scumbag and then check the bedroom."
Once the cuffs were clicked into place and one of the patrolmen was kneeling by their perp with a heavy hand on his back, Marty lowered his gun, put the safety on and shoved it into the holster on his hip. Quickly he moved over to Karen. She stood looking down to where her partner was tied to the kissing pole, her hand clamped firmly over her mouth. Marty pushed past her and knelt in front of Jim putting two fingers on the side of his neck.
"Karen, we need a bus. Karen!" Jumping up he took hold of Karen's shoulders and shook her lightly. "Radio for a bus now!" He said firmly, his dark eyes fixing hers.
Snapping back to life Karen lifted her radio. Her voice wavered. "This is 8 Squad we need a bus to 88 Front Street, Brooklyn, we have an officer down. I repeat we have an officer down."
"Go into the kitchen and get a knife. Biggest you can find." Marty ordered.
He knelt back down in front of Jim as Karen returned with the knife. Putting his hands on Jims shoulders he told Karen to cut the ropes, ankles first and then wrists. As she did so Jim slumped forward onto Marty's shoulder, the movement causing his stomach to heave involuntarily as he vomited copious amounts of water, pills and blood on to the polished floor.
Karen found herself out in the hallway, half sitting half leaning against the wall, her head in her hands. She didn't know how she had gotten out there but there she was. She was shaking more than she had ever shook before. More than when Condell had shot himself in front of her, more than when she had Randy Lyman cornered in his kitchen. There was just so much blood and those pills …."Get your shit together Karen, get your shit together!" She ordered herself as she swiped away the tears that were running down her face. Pushing herself up the wall she heard footsteps and suddenly Tom was in front of her.
"What happened? Karen?"
"Marty found a link to the next vic and we got Wilson up and we didn't have the names. Not all the names were there …." She babbled.
Tom leaned over her, looking her directly in the eye. "Karen, you need to calm down. Take a deep breath and take me in there. Marty in there?"
She nodded. She could hear the faint wail of sirens. Tom put a hand on her shoulder and followed her into the apartment.
Marty was sat on the floor next to Jim whom he had put into the recovery position, his fingers still monitoring his pulse. It looked like he had been sick some more. Was that good or bad Karen thought wildly, her stomach clenching. Marty's expression grew worried. "Karen, come sit down here." Somehow she forced herself into action. Hurrying over to where Marty sat and Jim lay she half knelt, half fell on to the floor next to them.
"Gimme the radio." He demanded, "And hold his hand, talk to him or something." Marty held the radio up to his lips, his other hand still pressing Jim's neck to track his weakening pulse. "This is 8 squad. We need that bus NOW!"
Swallowing down the overriding feeling of nausea in his own stomach Marty pushed himself up from the floor, not noticing the blood drying on his hands and t-shirt. He grabbed Tom by the elbow and headed for the bedroom. The other uniform sat on the edge of the bed next to Christie Dunbar's peacefully sleeping form. She stirred a little, shifting onto her side slightly.
"She ok?" Marty enquired.
"Seems fine. There's a rag on the nightstand, smells like chloroform." The uniformed officer supplied.
"I'll call another bus for her, just to be safe." Tom said as he raised his radio.
Marty leaned back against the doorframe and closed his eyes. After a moment he made his way towards the kitchen almost colliding with two paramedics as they rushed through the door to the apartment, laden with equipment.
Dodging the paramedics Marty crossed the room and squatted down by the palpably scared young man cuffed on the floor. Marty proceeded to pull out his handkerchief, wrap it carefully over his hand and reach into Edwards jacket pocket. His face hard he pulled out a small tape recorder.
"Oh! You didn't just make my job a little easier and tape all this for me did you?" He breathed angrily, staring down into Edward's pale face.
"I just wanted to help." Edward whispered.
"Oh you did, sweetheart, you did." Marty spat as he waved the tape recorder in front of him.