Rune Alignment
Chapter 41
Bobby saw the doctor come around the corner, jumped up and crossed the room in no time. Eames and Bishop saw him move and stood up; the three met the doctor at the desk.
"She's alive, though I don't know why."
Bobby uttered a sound, dropped his head and covered his face with his hands. The doctor noticed the damage to his left hand.
"She's not out of the woods yet. Nevertheless, she has a good start. The patches sutured well and we've started her on a course of OKT2, a drug that suppresses the immune system. It reduces the activity of T lymphocytes, which are the cells that cause transplant rejection. Do you know if she has allergies to any drugs?
Bishop and Eames looked at Bobby. "I don't know."
"Well, if an infection occurs, we won't be using penicillin. The greatest risk is staphylococcus aureus and it's penicillin resistant. All of her numbers seem to be holding. She's in recovery right now and will be for several hours. When she wakes up, she'll go to ICU. The first forty-eight hours are the important ones. We need to see how she does through the night."
"When can I see her?" Bobby asked.
"Not until tomorrow sometime. Probably sometime after noon. You can call this number anytime to check on her status. It rings into the nurses' station wherever she is." The doctor pulled a business card from the back pocket of her scrub pants and handed it to Bobby.
"Thanks."
"All of you need to go home and get some sleep." Then to Bobby, she said, "But first, I need to see you back here to fix up that hand."
Bobby looked down at the back of his left hand and said, "It's fine. Thanks. No."
The doctor looked at the tall, good-looking detective and saw an exhausted, relieved man. "Come on, I'm on a roll. It won't take long."
Bishop said, "Go on, get it done while we're here."
"Follow me," the doctor said and Bobby followed her.
"Why don't we both go home? It's late, detective," Huang said to Sledge. "Tomorrow the others will be in, Deakins will be in and then I'll only have to share this once."
"Naw, I have a lot to do here. I'm gonna stay and get some stuff done. You go ahead. I'll be fine here," Sledge said, shifting papers again. "I'll see you tomorrow. You're coming, when? Morning would probably be best for us."
Huang looked at Sledge, he's running on adrenaline, something is eating him alive. He'll run out of energy soon, hit a wall, and probably sleep here. "That sounds fine. I'll be around sometime in the morning. Don't work too late."
"Yeah, no problem, see you tomorrow."
Huang left and Sledge looked at his to do list:
results on envelope
disc of land line messages
Elliott's home address
examine his place
What else, what else, he thought. I'm missing something. What else is there? Sledge's gut was on fire. He dropped his pen, put his elbows on his desk and covered his face with his hands. Jesus, he thought, when you fuck up, you fuck up good.
He scanned a list of numbers taped to the pullout shelf above his desk drawers, lifted the phone and dialed. "Yes, this is Detective Edward Sledge of Major Case. I need to know how Dr. Gleason Wintermantle is doing. She had surgery this afternoon. She was a victim of the shooting at the university today." He waited, listened. "I see. Thank you." Edward hung up, covered his face again and whispered, "Thank God."
Bobby's hand took longer than anyone thought. An hour and twenty minutes later, he came back around the corner. His left arm was in a sling and his hand was wrapped in an enormous bandage. He carried two prescription slips in his right hand.
"Dear God!" Bishop exclaimed. "What did you do? I thought it was skinned knuckles."
Bobby shook his head and looked sheepish, "I know, I know. Two knuckles are broken. I guess there's cinderblock behind the drywall under the ceramic tiles."
"And you're left handed, ouch!" Bishop looked at her watch, "Eleven twenty-seven! No wonder we're beat. Let's go home."
Bobby had ignored Eames completely since the conversation in the small conference room. Eames had looked directly at him throughout the evening, but he never saw her. This is it, she thought, it's over.
They walked to the elevator, descended to the lobby, and walked out into the night. The air was cool; rain was coming, you could smell it. A slight breeze ruffled Eames' hair and she hooked it back behind her ears. She looked like a tired twelve year old.
"Well, uhmmm . . . how are we doing this?" Bishop asked.
"I'll catch a cab. I have to stop and get these filled. I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks for staying, Lynn. I appreciate it. And the food, thanks." It was as if Eames wasn't even there.
"Let me take you home for God's sake." Lynn said.
"No, no really, I'm in the other direction. A cab will be fine. Really. Thanks. See you tomorrow, 'night." Bobby walked over to the cabman and a yellow cab swung around the corner.
"I'll take you home, Bobby," Alex said. He ignored her.
"Ok then, good night. 'Night Alex," Bishop said and looked at Alex.
Eames waved weakly, "Yeah, 'night."
The cab pulled up in front of Bobby. Eames called out, "Bobby, wait!" Bobby opened the back passenger door and got in.
Sledge caught himself nodding off at his desk. He glanced at his watch, twelve forty-six. He felt like he'd worked a week without sleep. God, his stomach burned. Take your ass to bed, he said to himself. You're gonna be no good to anyone tomorrow. He pushed away from his desk and stood up and locked his weapon in his top left drawer. He stopped in the men's room, finished, flushed and washed his hands and face. He did not know the man in the mirror. So, this is what guilt does to you, huh?
Edward headed to the crash room. Two sets of bunk beds sat against two walls. He shrugged off his coat and hung it on one of the hooks screwed behind the door; then he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt buttons, took it off and hung it beside his coat. He sat on the bench in front of the bank of lockers and took off his shoes. He pulled himself up onto the top bunk – the sheets were cleaner since no one ever wanted to climb up there.
He stretched out on his back, hands on his chest, staring at the ceiling. He didn't think he could sleep. Edward's mind ran wild with everything that had happened today. Goren kept slipping back in front. Jesus, what a pompous son-of-a-bitch; so smart, so pretty, so inept with people, so . . . so, goddamn weird. Yet, Goren got a beauty this time. Edward closed his eyes, thank God, she's alive. He finally slept.
The cab stopped at the all night drugstore nearest Bobby's apartment. Bobby got back in with a bag containing two bottles of pills. A few more blocks and he paid the driver, climbed the stairs and entered his apartment.
Bobby went straight to the kitchen for a bottle of water. He struggled to open the pill bottle that read, "Take two pills four times a day for pain." He took two red and blue pills and looked at the other bottle: "Take one tablet twice a day." it was for infection. He did not replace the caps.
He took the water and pills to his bedroom, turned on the bedside lamp, and set down the water and pill bottles. He glanced at the bed as he struggled to unclip his weapon from his left hip with his right hand. His frustration was climbing when it finally came loose. He set it and his badge on the dresser. He struggled to remove his pocketknife and money clip from his left pocket; he set them with the others. He easily pulled his keys from his right pocket and placed them on top as well. He kicked off his shoes.
Gleason had made the bed. Her green chenille throw sprayed across the foot of the bed. He pulled it to his nose and breathed in deeply. Cinnamon. He laid down on the bed, pulled her pillow under his head, clutched the throw and sobbed until he fell asleep.