Issues by SLynn
Disclaimer: I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.
Chapter 16: Resolution
The weekend had been excruciatingly slow. Greg, now at work, continuously watched the clock. He had a late appointment with Dr. Tracey to discuss his test results and a whole day to wait. It was the worse Monday ever.
Completely caught up in the lab and with nothing else to do, Greg decided to review his school books. Last year he had to drop the courses he'd begun for his master's degree, but he'd kept the materials. It might be tempting fate a bit, but if the tap did come back clean he wanted to be ready to start back immediately. He was nearly done with the course and had aspirations of achieving his doctorate in chemistry.
"With everything I'd heard about you, I didn't expect to ever see you in here reading."
Greg looked up from his books and smiled at Sophia.
"I'm killing time. Lab works caught up and I've got a long day ahead of me."
Sophia leaned down to read the title off of the cover.
"That's going to make it shorter?"
"No," Greg answered honestly, "it can get a little dull. It's more fun in practice, not theory."
"So I take it your in need of a distraction."
"Desperately."
"Ever go out for a bomb threat?"
"Seriously," he said, sitting up now fully alert.
"Get your case and change into full gear. No gun."
"Like they'd give me one," Greg said, putting down his things and making sure to lock the computer.
"Meet me in the garage in ten minutes."
Greg wasted no time getting down to the locker room. He switched to one of his better long sleeve shirts, reprimanding himself mentally for slacking and wearing t-shirts again on the job, before he put on his vest. He'd never turned any of his things in mainly because they'd never asked him too. Picking up his case last, he hustled down to the garage to find Sophia waiting for him.
"Where's it at?" he asked, getting in on the passengers side.
"North Vegas. A woman's clinic, happens every few months or so."
"Is it a hoax?"
"Don't know yet. Usually is. A lot of the times it's just to disrupt business. Turn on the scanner and we'll see."
Greg flipped the switch and found the right frequency. After listening to the exchange taking place between the officers on scene and headquarters, it sounded real enough.
"Okay," Sophia said after they arrived. "We stay back. Way back until it's cleared. It may take awhile, but stay alert. Check the crowd. A lot of times these people stick around to watch the commotion, like arsonists."
Greg did what he was told. There wasn't a crowd at all, but a lot of officers. The neighborhood was pretty bad and you'd never know the building was a clinic judging by its appearance. He stood back with Sophia, way back across the street, taking it all in.
While they waited they talked with the clinic supervisor, Dr. Alicia Spencer. She wasn't distraught, just angry.
"Can you believe this?" she asked them, turning back and forth trying to get a better view of the happenings.
"What did the caller say exactly?" the detective assigned, a Jake Hansen, asked her trying to bring her focus back to where he needed it to be.
"I don't remember exactly, just something about a bomb in the bathroom. That it would go off in five minutes."
"Did he give you a name or a reason?"
"He didn't have to give me a reason," she said finally turning fully to him. "I didn't need that. These nuts are all the same."
"A name then?"
"You're kidding me, right? What are you going to ask me next, if he left his social security number? Maybe a business card?"
Detective Hansen smiled politely and said he'd get back to her, mumbling under his breath as he turned his back. Greg started to turn away with him but stopped when he realized that Sophia hadn't moved.
"I'm sorry," the doctor said at Sophia's fixed gaze. Her eyes were now brimming with tears. "We've had a rough few weeks. First Laura and now this."
Greg felt his blood go cold. He knew it was a probably coincidence, but still.
"Who's Laura?" Sophia asked.
"She was one of our counselors here. We get a lot of the local psychiatrists to donate their time. Completely on a volunteer basis, we can't afford to hire a full time therapist so we have several come in when they can. Most only come in once or twice a year, makes them look good but not her. Laura wasn't like that. She came in every Friday, spent the whole day. She really cared about what she did, about helping people. Everyone really liked her."
She paused momentarily, seemingly caught up in her own emotions.
"Some sick bastard killed her in her own home."
"How long had Dr. Sanchez worked here?" Greg asked not caring that it wasn't really his place to do so.
"Four years," Dr. Spencer answered, giving him a cold appraising look. "How did you know her?"
Sophia turned to him now too, her look also appraising, but not cold.
"Professionally," Greg said in a tone the put a stop to all further inquiry.
But it was enough for her, for both of them. Dr. Spencer looks softened after she took it in.
"I just hope you guys catch whoever did it," her voice was tinged with pain as she'd said it.
"Me too," Greg agreed.
Not long after the conversation, the bomb squad cleared the building. They'd found a box with wires in the bathroom as the caller had said, but it was a dud. Nothing more then a container rigged up to look like a bomb. It was Sophia and Greg's turn now to check things out.
They'd gathered evidence in relative silence. There wasn't much too it, fortunately, as nothing had been detonated.
On the way out the door, Dr. Spencer was finally being allowed back in. She'd sent her staff home for the day and just wanted to lock up before leaving.
"We should know pretty soon if we have anything to go off of," Sophia said to her as the three of them stood in the doorway.
"I appreciate it," she answered curtly, still clearly angry and unnerved.
They moved to let her pass, and as they did heard her let out an exasperated sigh and grab the nearest waste basket. Sophia and Greg had both stopped and turned in curiosity.
"Damn things, throw them out and they still come back," she'd muttered loudly as she tossed a stack of pamphlets into the trash.
"What's that?" Sophia asked, curious as to what could make the good doctor even madder then she'd been.
"We keep getting these ridiculous things set up in the lobby. Full of information about how we're all going to hell. It's a charming read really written by narrow minded assholes who think the only service we perform here are abortions."
She held out the waste basket for them too see. Inside was about a half dozen neatly folded brochures.
"Do you mind?" Greg asked her, indicating the basket.
"Take them all," Dr. Spencer said flatly, "please."
"One's all we need," he answered, taking a collection bag from Sophia before gently lifting it out of trash with his still gloved hands.
"No wait," Sophia stopped him, "Take them all." He understood. There might be prints.
Once he had them in place, he quickly read the cover. 'Moral Decay in Our Society'.
"Is it just me or do these look homemade?" he asked Sophia, still looking them over as they got to the SUV.
"Not that hard to do, all you need is a computer and a half decent printer. Why'd you want them? Think our bomber might have left those and the package?"
"Maybe," Greg answered, but that wasn't it exactly. When he'd asked if it looked homemade, he'd meant the paper.
The ride back was silent. Just before they pulled back into the garage, Sophia finally spoke.
"I didn't know Dr. Sanchez worked at that clinic. If I had, I wouldn't have taken you."
"I didn't know it either," Greg said "but its okay. It's not like the two are connected."
Sophia said nothing further, but that by no means meant she'd agreed with him. Greg wasn't sure of it himself right now. His mind had already rapidly worked from the bomber, to the pamphlets, to the murder. She was quietly drawing the same conclusions. She knew enough about the case to know why Greg had wanted that particular piece of paper picked up.
Getting back to the lab Greg realized how late it was. He had to go now if he was going to make his appointment. Normally he would have helped Sophia rack and stack the evidence, but he quickly explained his doctor's appointment to her before signing out of the lab.
He was three minutes late getting to Dr. Tracey's office, not that she minded.
"Sorry," he apologized to her again, taking a seat.
"It's fine. You're my last appointment for the day. There's no hurry."
Greg disagreed. He was in a hurry to find out. All the anxiety he'd felt that morning was back and twice as worse.
"I was just reviewing your file. How did your session with Dr. Fenton go?"
"Good. It went pretty good," Greg answered tight lipped. His mind was still racing; he didn't have time for pleasantries. He just wanted to know.
"Well, I'm going to be calling him after we're done here. Letting him know that in my opinion, given you'll be off of chemotherapy treatment, he should discontinue your prescription to Elavil."
A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth after she'd said it but it took a full minute for Greg to realize what she'd said.
"Off of chemo?" he asked her for confirmation, nodding his head along with her response.
"Your third marrow test was clean. I want you to stop treatment immediately. No more meds."
Greg didn't know how to respond. He just buried his head into his hands in a moment of disbelief.
"Of course, you shouldn't go off the anti-depressants yet. Even though you're in remission, the chemo will stay in your system for another week or two, but I can't see why after that you should continue on with those either. Dr. Fenton will inform you when."
Greg nodded again, wiping his eyes with the palm of his hand. It was hard to remember being so happy, so completely relieved as he felt now.
"I want you back in this office in three months for another tap, possibly a lumbar puncture but we'll see how it goes. For the next two years we're going to have to keep careful track of your health."
"Got it, three months," Greg responded, hearing it but not hearing it. It felt so good. Like he was getting his life handed back to him.
Dr. Tracey had stopped talking now, realizing what he must be going through internally. She smiled at him. Really very happy to see him this way.
"Thank you," Greg said getting to his feet, knowing that was all there was to say. "It's inadequate; it doesn't nearly say everything, but thank you."
Dr. Tracey clasped hands with him.
"There's no need to say anything to me. Just go home, celebrate."
He didn't need to hear anything else. He shook hands with her and was out the door in seconds flat.