Rune Alignment

Chapter 53.

"You are kidding," ADA Ron Carver said to Deakins.

"I wish I was," Deakins replied. "I've never had a situation like this before. Sure, I've had partners argue, and request new partners before. But never has anyone ever threatened to transfer out, let alone partners – and my best two detectives.

"Do you think they will actually pursue the requests?"

"I don't know. They are both equally angry with each other. Goren and Eames are such a perfect match; they balance each other. If Goren leaves, any department would be happy to have him. He's a dog with a bone on every case. But I'm not sure any one else could partner with him. He is different.

"Eames could go anywhere, and she'd fit right in. She's what makes Bobby ok. They are such a perfect match." Deakins wasn't looking for answers from his friend; he just needed to talk about it, out loud.

"Well, I'll tell you what, I will miss them both if they go anywhere. They have made me look good time after time." Ron looked at Deakins and saw a man conflicted personally and professionally. "Jim, things have a way of working out the way they are supposed to. Give it a day or two. Let things settle down. It may work itself out." Carver slid his sleeve up an inch and checked his watch, "I have to run. Let me know how this progresses."

"Thanks for letting me vent, Ron."

"Geoffrey, go get Bobby some napkins, please," Maggie said to her young son, and the boy bounced off the chair and ran to fetch.

"Thanks," Bobby said around a mouthful.

Maggie smiled. "So, are you here because of your hand?"

Bobby, looked quickly at his left fist, swallowed and said, "Um, no, actually."

Geoffrey returned and held up the napkins to his mom who said, "Hand them to Bobby, please." Bobby took them with a smile and a "Thanks."

"No, I'm here with a friend in ICU."

"Oh, I see. How is your friend doing?"

Bobby looked down and said, "She's improving, I think, but still not well."

So, it's a 'she,' thought Maggie. She sighed silently.

"What about you?"

"Oh, we're here visiting Geoffrey's great-grandmother. She's in her last days."

"I'm sorry." Bobby said sincerely.

"Well, is there anything else we can do or get for you?" Maggie said.

"No, no, thank you so much. You really saved me back there. Thank you again."

"Geoffrey, say good bye to Bobby."

"Bye," he whispered.

"Take care, Bobby. Hope your friend continues to improve," Maggie said, picking up her purse, taking her son's hand and turning.

Bobby stood and said, "Thanks again."

He sat and continued to eat. He was hungrier than he'd thought. He enjoyed his feast.

Sledge and Eames went through every drawer in Elliott's desk. They found nothing incriminating.

"Where do you think he did this?" Eames asked, indicating the walls.

"I have no idea. The basement, maybe, a workshop? Does the warrant include the basement? Can we search there?"

Eames checked and said, "Actually, the language is intentionally vague. I suppose we could if we have probable cause."

"Well, I think skin on the walls and disembodied heads hanging from the ceiling, is probable cause," Sledge replied.

Eames stood up, looked at the other officers, and asked, "How you guys coming? Find anything?"

"There's nothing here but student stuff," the officer said from the closet. "Dirty clothes, trash. No boxes, no papers."

"What's in the file cabinet?" Eames asked the other uniform.

"Just files with class notes, it looks like; a couple notebooks with notes from classes. He's got some really hard core porn mags in here, too; but nothing out of the ordinary."

The officer searching the couch and chair said, "Nothing in these but crumbs and eighty-seven cents."

Eames thought a minute then said, "Ok, let's close this up. How about you and Thompson coming with Sledge and me to the basement?" She nodded to the photographer and one of the uniforms. "And you two complete the paperwork on this place, lock it up and seal it. Then you can head out." The other two officers nodded and one left to retrieve the roll of crime scene tape.

Sledge stood watching her run the show. He was enthralled. She is a take-charge kind of person; well, she can take charge of me tonight, he thought with tremble in his trousers.

Eames turned and faced Sledge. "You ready to head downstairs?" She noticed an odd light behind his eyes. What, she thought, is he pissed because I kind of directed this search? "You ready to go?" she asked him again.

"Oh, I'm ready," he replied with a smile.

Bobby rode the elevator to the ninth floor and thought to himself, I can't believe I ate the whole thing. The doors opened and he stepped off the elevator, returned to the ICU and walked straight to Gleason's cubical. She was sleeping. He noticed a tray with a small bowl of applesauce, a small container of melting vanilla ice cream, and a small bowl of alien-looking green gelatin with suspended bits of who-knows-what floating in it, setting on the portable table. A small plastic glass of what looked like cranberry juice completed the meal. Time for her lunch, he thought.

He walked to the bedside and figured out how to lower the side rail. He watched her sleep. He slid his hand across her forehead and said softly, "Gleason, wake up honey. Time to eat lunch." She tuned her head toward the sound of his voice. "Honey, wake up. Wake up sweetheart," he said, a little louder.

Julie stepped into the room and said, "How was lunch?"

"I was hungry," Bobby admitted with a smile.

"It's good that you're waking her. Dr. Creighton wants her to eat something. Try to get her to eat the ice cream. It's cold and will help with her fever; besides, it's melting. She needs to drink the cranberry juice. Her urine shows a high concentration of creatine; she's getting a UTI – a urinary tract infection. We don't want that to progress."

The young, pretty nurse moved to the other side of Gleason's bed and put a hand on Gleason's upper right arm and patted gently. With some volume, she said, "Gleason wake up. Come on, wake up." She patted more forcefully and shook the arm a little. "Wake up, Gleason, wake up now."

Gleason moved her head from side to side and uttered a mild moan. Her eyes blinked several times and then opened, she looked from Julie to Bobby. She smiled at him.

"Hi, sweetheart," he said gently. "Hungry?"

Julie smiled and walked back to the nurses' station.

"Hi," Gleason whispered and stretched. "Unh!" she winced and curled her shoulders in toward her center. "Oh, that hurts!" she said with her eyes shut tight.

"I know, I know." Bobby purred, stroking her head. "Here, have some ice cream. It will taste good and make you feel better." Bobby reached for the cup and saw the cardboard lid pressed into it. Oh, man, he thought, anxiety beginning to rise.

"You have ice cream?" Gleason asked expectantly.

"Uhm, yes, honey . . . good vanilla ice cream, right . . . right here, uhm. . ."

Julie stepped back in and saw Bobby's consternation.

"Say, here, let me do this," taking the tiny carton from Bobby, "Dr. Creighton and Dr. Patel want to talk with you. They asked to meet you in the tiny room on the other side."

A flood of emotions rushed through his mind – relief at Julie's return, anxiety about talking with the doctors, regret that he didn't get to feed Gleason. He reached for his jacket and removed the pill bottle from the breast pocket.