Rune Alignment
Chapter 46
A uniformed officer stood at Sledge's desk, the same young man Sledge had asked to take Bobby's backpack to him at the hospital the day before. "Yeah, thanks for coming over. I need you to do two things for me. First, go over to Carver's office, get the warrant for the phone company, and deliver it. Find out from them when the copy of the messages will be ready. The warrant states they be delivered on disc. Mention that to them, it will save time on our end."
"No problem. What else?"
"I need you to go over to the university, back to Belzberg. I need the professor's handbag. It's got to be either in her office or still in the hallway."
"What does it look like?"
"I don't know! Bring back any handbags you find."
"Do you want backpacks, brief cases?"
Sledge thought a moment, "No, she strikes me as a big, floppy, classy shoulder bag kind of lady. I could be wrong, but just bring any purses you find."
"OK, that it?"
"Belzberg is still locked and taped. Take someone with you when you go in. I don't want any questions about anything later on. Try to be quick."
Bishop sat at her desk and ran 'Baughman, Elliott T.' through the department's utility search directory and got the 'No matches found' message. Damn, she thought, his building is utilities included. She thought a minute and then ran a search for 'apartments/utilities included.' A message came back asking, 'geographic parameters.' She added '/university area' and hit 'enter.' On hundred seventy-four addresses appeared in an alphabetic list by street name. A hundred seventy-four! Jeeze, she thought, trim this list – how? She saved the list in a file named 'Elliott T. Baughman.'
After delivering the warrant to the phone company, the young officer and his partner parked on Selman, beside Belzberg Hall, and headed for the administration building to get Belzberg opened up. They carried a role of yellow crime scene tape with them to re-tape the building when they were finished looking for the handbag. The pair waited while the secretary made several phone calls and finally said, "Sullivan will meet you over there. He'll open up for you." They walked back toward Belzberg in silence.
A man in a maintenance gray shirt and pants stood in front of the glass doors on the small landing at the top of the entrance steps. "I didn't want to open it without you here," he said.
"Thanks, that was the right thing to do," the young officer said. He pulled back the strips of crime scene tape and the maintenance man unlocked the doors.
"I'll wait here, if that's ok."
"That would be best," the officer's partner said. They entered, crossed the small lobby and walked to the dark second floor. The only light came from the tall windows behind them and at the opposite end of the hall. It was enough to see that books, notebooks, backpacks and other things still littered the hall.
"We're looking for a handbag?" his partner asked. "What kind of handbag? What does it look like?"
"The detective said to bring any we find. He suspects it is a floppy shoulder bag." They both took flashlights from their belts and started searching.
"Hey, what about this?" The other officer bent and picked up a cloth purse with a long handle and lots of key chain ornaments attached. He held it up for his partner to see.
"Yeah, I guess. Hang onto it and keep looking. Pick up anything that looks like a purse."
Eames sat at her desk, typing her letter of request for transfer. She could barely see the screen through the well of tears in her eyes. Don't let them fall, she told herself. Do not!
Bobby sat across from her, his right hand fiddling in his right pocket, fishing for something. He pulled out his watch, looked at it – eleven twenty-four – and stuffed it back inside. He picked up the phone and dialed the ICU nurses' desk from memory.
"Hi, I need information on Gleason Wintermantle, please. Yes, I'll wait."
Eames' hands shook as she typed, she couldn't find the right words, the right order, she kept making typos and kept backspacing over what she'd written, starting again. Her hair fell down around her face, hiding it. Finally, her eyes spilled over and tears fell to her lap. Damn! she shouted to herself. Do not cry, not with him right there. Without thinking, she sniffed.
"Yes, how is she doing?" Bobby listened. "When did this happen?" Eames stopped typing at the change in his voice. "How is she now?" She looked over at him. "Is she going to be all right?" His right hand held the phone; he looked down at the top of his desk, his left elbow sat on the desk with his fist upright, as though it hurt. "Well, can I see her?" I caused him this, she thought. "Alright, thank you. Yes, that's the number. Yes, alright." He held the phone and knocked the back of his right hand against his forehead several times, then hung it up.
Eames dared, "How is she?"
Bobby stood and walked toward Deakins' office. Eames watched him walk away. Suddenly all the words came to her in the right order and she completed her transfer request.
"Bobby, come in. I wanted to speak to you any –
"I want a new partner," Bobby said flatly.
Oh, man, thought Deakins. "Close the door and sit down," he said with resignation. "Tell me why."
Bobby sat and slouched back, his left hand in his lap. "You know why."
"No, I don't think I do. Why do you think this is a good thing?"
Bobby looked miserable; he shifted in the chair. His right hand came up, fingers bent over, his head leaned to his left side, his eyes closed, and his lips pressed together. He was searching for what to say, how to explain. "I . . . can't trust her anymore," he said simply.
"Have you talked to Alex about this?" Deakins knew they hadn't, but he wanted to hear Bobby's take on the whole thing.
Bobby hesitated and said softly, "I, I don't even want to look at her."
"You know what you're giving up here, don't you? You two have been together almost seven years. You two have the best arrest and conviction record – you are my best team.
"You are more than partners, Bobby, you two are friends; good friends. How many times has Alex been there when your mom was so bad? After your dad died? She's your friend, Bobby; you don't do this to your friend."
Deakins could see Bobby getting mad, his anger building; it was like watching the needle rise on a boiler.
"She made one bad call, Bobby."
"Is that what you call it?" he exploded, on his feet, loud. "A bad call? Jesus Christ, that 'bad call' nearly killed the best thing I've ever had in my life. Gleason survived surgery and they don't know why. Right now, she's got a fever they can't get down, she's convulsed and her heart rate is erratic. She may die anyway."
He took a few steps in a small box and started again, "What about all those other people? One dead, twelve injured? What about them? Their families? Eames made a decision – that 'bad call' as you say – based on something other than her judgment as a cop. She sided with Sledge rather than me because it was important to her for whatever reason. I can't trust that kind of thinking." Bobby looked spent. He rubbed his forehead and eyes with his right hand. He paced in a small circle, looking at the floor.
Deakins didn't know what to say. So he told Bobby the whole truth, "Eames asked for a new partner earlier today."
Bobby stopped and looked at Deakins, "Good, then it's mutual, it should be easy and quick to process."
"I'm going to tell you what I told her. No."
"Then I want to transfer out," said Bobby.
"She said the same thing."
"Detective, these are what we found," the young officer said as he and his partner arrived at Sledge's desk. They carried a shopping bag of purses, wallets, and a fanny pack.
Sledge looked up, "Hey great, you guys are great. Whatcha got? Let's have a look." He stood and removed a cloth bag with long handles and a bunch of keychain ornaments. "You guys go through any of these?"
"No, sir. You said to find them and bring them in," the young officer said.
"Well, now's our chance to really see what ladies have stashed away in these things." Sledge took the shopping bag and upended it on his desktop. An assortment of purses and wallets formed a mound. He shifted through and pulled out a large, brown, leather shoulder bag. "Ah, this looks like it might be our lady's."
Bobby stormed out of Deakins office, strode to his desk and flipped shut his portfolio, preparing to leave. He happened to glance over at the two officers standing by Sledge's desk. He saw Sledge lift Gleason's bag from a pile. What the fu-, he muttered to himself. He let his portfolio fall back onto his desk and he closed the distance to Sledge's desk in four strides.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Bobby said as he snatched the leather bag from Sledge's hand. The officers tensed up as they had yesterday at the hospital.
Sledge jumped back in his chair and said, "Nothing, nothing, man! I asked these guys to go find her purse so we could maybe get some information from it. I thought you were still in with Deakins. Jeeze, lighten up."