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Rune Alignment

Chapter 37

"He should really change his clothes," Bishop said to Deakins, "he's covered in blood. The other people are looking at him funny. I think he's spooking them."

"Lynn, what he has on should be the least of your worries," Deakins checked his watch. "I need get back, I'm sure all hell has broken loose. Will either you or Eames stay with him till we know something more?"

"Of course we'll stay. He won't be alone."

Deakins walked over to where Bobby and Eames sat. "Bobby, I have to get back. They are doing all they can for Gleason. Either Alex or Lynne will stay here with you. Are you going to be ok?" Deakins waited.

Finally Bobby sat up, looked up at his boss; his face said it all.

"Take care of him," Deakins said to Eames. She nodded. Deakins' cell began to ring.

"I need to tell you what I've done so you don't kill me before you fire me," Sledge said to Deakins when he answered.

"What the hell have you done now?"

"I called Carver and asked him to issue a seventy-two hour gag order preventing the names of the victims from being distributed to the public. I know I have no authority to do that, and Carver reminded me of that fact, but I wanted to ensure that the victims remained anonymous, at least for now. Carver said he would do it when I explained why."

"All right, now explain it to me," Deakins replied

"I'm not sure Elliott was the only one after the professor. I think someone else made those calls. If that person thinks the professor is dead, or wounded, he'll disappear. We'll lose him." Deakins said nothing. "I know it's a long shot, but it can't hurt anything."

"I don't know," Deakins replied. "Elliott's priors in Wales – the stalking, molestation – identified him as a person of interest." Deakins paused, thinking how to say what needed to be said next. He didn't get the chance.

"Don't think I don't know that Goren was right. Don't think I don't know now that the student should have been brought in for questioning; that had he been inside, those people wouldn't be dead or hurt right now. Don't think I won't carry the guilt for that decision forever."

Deakins didn't know how to respond.

Sledge continued, "Let me do this. Go with me on this. Let's see if the calls continue. Call Carver and give the OK to suppress the names. Please, let me see if I'm right on this."

Deakins considered. "All right, I'll call Carver"

"Thanks."

The uniformed officer who had left with Sledge returned carrying a backpack. He walked to Eames and said, "This is a change of clothes for Detective Goren. It was in his locker. I can wait till he changes and take his suit and things back with me."

Eames looked at the young officer and took the backpack. "Thank you."

"Yes ma'am."

Eames walked over to Bobby and sat beside him. "Bobby, how about getting out of those clothes? The officer brought what you had in your locker." He didn't move. "Bobby . . .?" she put her hand on his arm.

Bobby shook off her hand as though her hand was flame. He shot up, turned to face her and growled, "Don't touch me. Don't do anything for me. Stay away from me." He wrenched the backpack from her other hand and strode into the men's room.

Bishop and the two uniforms, and the other people in the waiting room, watched what had just happened. Eames sat with her mouth open, stunned at his outburst.

Bobby threw the pack back into a sink and paced in a circle, again clenching and unclenching his fists. His rage had returned and now it focused on his partner. He couldn't think straight. How could she not take my side? How could she not trust me? She always trusts me. Why didn't she believe me? She's my partner, it's her job to stand by me, be there for me.

Jesus Christ! she stood by Sledge, Sledge! That goddamn bastard. He has fucked up every single thing in my life since he showed up. Now he has destroyed the only thing that matters. Bobby slammed his left fist into the ceramic wall beside the towel dispenser. He slammed it again. And again.

Thoughts of Gleason flooded his mind. He raised both arms to his head in a helpless motion and began to cry out loud.

Everyone in the waiting room turned and looked at the sound of something hitting the wall in the men's room. The officer who had delivered the backpack looked at Eames, pointed to himself and then towards the restroom. Eames nodded and the officer moved.

Bobby was leaning on a sink, heaving sobs, when the officer opened the door. The man stood and watched the detective, he noticed the hole in the wall. Bobby didn't see him. Slowly his sobbing lessened and he straightened up. He shuddered a huge sigh and saw the uniform standing just inside the door. He wiped his face with his left forearm and the officer saw Bobby's bloody hand.

"Can I do anything for you, detective?" he asked softly.

Bobby felt the kindness and empathy this man exuded. He wiped his face again and shook his head.

"Ok. You should change and then get that hand looked at."

Bobby looked at him and then at his hands. He saw the damage to the back of his left fist and then searched the walls. He found the hole he had made and groaned. He looked back at the officer and nodded, "Yeah, thanks." The officer nodded in return and left.

The officer walked to Eames and said, "He's really messed up; emotionally, I mean. The department is going to have to take care of the wall in there. His hand is going need medical attention."

Bobby opened the backpack and pulled out the tennis shoes, tee shirt and jeans and set them on the edge of the sink. He kicked off his shoes and put them in the pack. His shirt and pants were stiff with Gleason's dried blood. He emptied his pockets, removed his shield and holster from his belt and set it all on his jeans; then, Bobby stripped the belt from the loops and set it on the jeans as well. He stepped from his trousers, folded them and stuffed them inside the backpack. He pulled on his old jeans, slid the belt and replaced his weapon and shield. Buttons flew as he ripped open his dress shirt; he stripped it off, and then stuffed it like a rag into the pack.

Bobby turned on the water, waited for it to warm and then stuck his left hand under the stream. It burned like flame and he hissed in a deep breath and uttered a gravelly groan; eventually, the water soothed his skinless, torn knuckles. He used soap to wash his hands, grimacing at the sting. He rubbed his face and then splashed it with water, dried with paper towels and gently dabbed his hand.

He picked up the black tee shirt, this isn't mine, he thought. It was the right size, though, and he pulled it on. He knelt and tied his old, beat up tennis shoes. He grabbed the pack and pulled open the restroom door.

"Over here," Gavin shouted. "Look at this. I think I've found it."

Gleason jogged to where he stood and looked toward where his finger pointed. "What?" she asked.

"Over there. See it? It's right there," he shook his finger, pointing. "There."

"Gavin, I don't know what you are pointing at."

"Come on, let's get closer." She felt him take her hand and off they ran, Gavin leading her.

"It's right there. Look. Gleason, you're looking right at it. Don't you see it?"

Gleason stared, searched, swept her eyes everywhere. She saw woods, the bare limbs twisted and broken. A field lay fallow ahead and to the right, as far as she could see. The stink of decay drifted from the mossy swamp on the left; dead trees stood broken amid the muck. The sky above darkened and thunder rumbled somewhere, announcing coming doom. Lightning flashed far away, but coming nearer.

Gavin watched her search. "You don't see it, do you?"

She shook her head no, "Show me. Show me where it is. Take me there."

Gavin let go of her hand and started to walk away, "I've tried to take you there, so many times; tried to show you so many times. It's always been right in front of you, but you can't see it. You won't let yourself see it. You probably never will. And now it's too late."

"She's crashing!" People scrambled to try to save Gleason's life.