Rune Alignment
Chapter 49
"Does anyone know we're down here?" Martin asked his colleague.
"I mentioned to Zach that I was coming down here to see what you were up to," Jerry replied.
"Well, it's been almost four hours. I am famished. What say we get some lunch and then do a couple more boxes?"
"Sounds good to me. Can we leave this stuff here? Will someone mess with it?"
"Have you seen anyone since we've been down here? I think our stuff will be just fine. Come on." Martin slid the prints and narrative he had finished reading back into the envelope, stood and stretched. Jerry did the same.
"Man, my butt's sore."
"How's your hand today?" Dr. Creighton asked as she led Bobby to a tiny room off to the side. Bad news lives in these small rooms, Bobby thought.
He glanced at it and said, "It's ok."
"How's the pain?"
"The pills work."
"Where's your sling? You need to wear that, it keeps your hand from hanging down and prevents swelling. It will help with the pain as well. Do you have it with you?"
Bobby shook his head no.
"Then let me get you one. It's important that you wear it, understand?" The doctor spoke to a passing nurse, "Will you get me a two-X adult arm sling? Thanks, Julie." The doctor looked back at Bobby.
"How is she? Can I see her?" he asked.
"Yes, you can see her; I just want to let you know what's happening. Gleason has a temperature we cannot get down. As I told you this morning, her temperature spiked at one-oh-six and she convulsed. We were able to bring it down with cooling tubes and a cooling sheet. It stopped at one-oh-one, which is still high, and where it has stayed.
"Dr. Patel and I think there's probably infection at one of the sites. She's on an amikacin drip; it's a type of aminoglycoside, a powerful antibiotic to try to knock down the infection. We have to be careful with it, though; amikacin is toxic and may cause renal damage or hearing loss.
"After her temp came down and she stopped convulsing, her heart rate fell; it's been slow and erratic since then. Actually, her heart rate has not been good since surgery last night. We're not sure what's causing the bradycardia – the slow heart rate. It may be a leak in one of the suture lines, the infection, her weakened condition . . . any number, or combination of things. We have her on atenolol to try to stabilize her heart. If her numbers don't improve by this evening, I'm going to take her back into surgery to see what's going on inside."
Dr. Creighton looked up at the good-looking young man and saw worry and fright. "I don't want to worry you too much. Nobody thought she would make it through surgery, let alone this long. We're doing all we can."
"I want to see her." Bobby said with a tremor.
"She's right over here."
Eames looked down at her half-eaten sandwich, "I don't know why I sided with you instead of Bobby." She paused, rethinking the scenario from the day before. "I, I remember thinking that I wanted to agree with you; maybe it was to punish Bobby for some reason. I don't know. Does it matter?" She looked imploringly at Sledge.
"Why would you want to punish Goren? He's your partner. If you had doubts about the validity of picking up the student, that's one thing; but siding with me to punish Goren?" Sledge thought a moment, and then said, "You're in love with him, aren't you?" He sat back, defeat changing his posture.
Alex looked into Edward's eyes and into his soul, this man loves me, she realized. He loves me. "Edward, I don't . . . I don't. . ."
Silence hung between them. Emotions battled in Edward's mind. He scrunched up his wrapper and pushed away from the table. "Let's head back," he said plaintively.
"Edward . . . ," Eames started.
"Come on," and he held out his hand.
The room was incredibly small. The bed and equipment filled it. A narrow, portable, adjustable table covered the foot of Gleason's bed. The left wall held a short counter with a small sink. A single wooden chair with arms and a wide seat sat to the right just inside the entrance. The margin of room surrounding the bed on two sides and the foot was minimal. It was just enough to walk.
Bobby stood at the entry. He was struck at how pale Gleason looked. A sheen of perspiration glistened on her face and neck. Her lips were cracked and peeling. A cannula ran from her nose to a connection on the wall. Three bags hung from a pole, each with a thin, clear tube snaking to a junction that joined a single tube inserted in the back of her right hand. A monitor displayed numbers and moving lines. She breathed short, rapid, shallow breaths.
The doctor stepped in and lowered the rail on Gleason's left side, the right side of the room. Then she moved to the foot of the bed. Two steps took Bobby to her bedside. He set his jacket on the chair. He looked at her. "Can I touch her?" he asked the doctor.
"Of course," she answered softly.
As if lifting a baby bird, Bobby slipped his right hand under her left. "Honey?" he whispered. She didn't respond. "Is she sleeping?" he asked the doctor.
"Yes."
"Gleason? Honey? It's me, Bobby." She still didn't respond. "Can she hear me?"
The doctor nodded and said, "She's just sleeping. You can try and wake her."
"Honey, wake up. It's Bobby. Wake up, sweetheart." She didn't move. Bobby watched her a few seconds and then looked at the doctor. His rising panic was obvious. "What's wrong with her? Why won't she wake up?"
Dr. Creighton stepped beside him and laid a hand against his upper left arm, "She's just asleep. Her body is trying to repair itself, the body needs sleep for this to happen. This is not a bad thing. Just talk to her, she'll wake up. Just talk to her."
Bobby hitched back a sob. "Gleason, honey, it's me." Suddenly, he didn't know what to say. And then, it all came, "I'm so sorry this happened. I wanted to pick up Elliott, bring him in for questioning. He wouldn't have been there; he wouldn't have done this to you. This wouldn't have happened if I'd not listened to Eames and Sledge. I should have done what I knew was right. I should have trusted my instincts and not listened to them. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He cried like a child.
The doctor reached for the chair, hung his jacket over the back and pulled it up to him. She guided him into it and he sat. She left and pulled shut the curtain that served as a door.
"The ME sent this up, detective," the assistant said, handing several sheets of paper to Bishop.
She reached for it and said, "Thanks."
Bishop read through the medical report on Elliott Baughman. "Huh," she said to herself, "What do you know."
She saw Sledge and Eames turn the corner from the elevators. Uh, oh, what happened at lunch? she asked herself.
"Hey, guys, the ME report is back on the shooter. Come here, listen to this." The two detectives walked to where Bishop sat.
"His tox screen is positive for cocaine, amphetamines and marijuana. Rogers notes here that each of these drugs can induce paranoia, especially in individuals with a predisposition for paranoia." Bishop read silently and then mumbled, ". . . transient paranoid states . . . amphetamine induced psychosis. . ." Looking at the pair before her, she said, "We should go talk with her about this; it's all Greek to me."
"Goren called earlier and asked me to download the contact list from the professor's cell phone. I told him it would be on his desk by end of shift. I'm going to go do that and then I'll head down and work with you some more, ok?"
"Sounds good. See you later."
Jerry and Martin each entered different elevators, Jerry heading to four, Martin to the basement.
Martin finished the box he'd been working on before lunch. He closed it up, re-shelved it and took another. He was on envelope eleven of the fifteen when Jerry showed up.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"Find anything, yet?" Jerry asked.
"Not yet, I am certain there's a narrative with a similar profile. We'll just keep looking."
"It's too bad about that professor lady, huh?" Before Martin could answer, Jerry continued. "You know, I think Goren and the professor have a thing going on."
Martin turned and looked at his friend, "What? Why do you think so?"
Jerry and Martin spent the next ninety minutes reading narratives and chatting about women and relationships. They were like two girls at a slumber party.