Rune Alignment

Chapter 55.

"Detective?" Julie said softly. Bobby had fallen asleep again in the chair. "Detective," she repeated with a hand on his upper arm.

He startled awake, wiped his right hand over his face and cleared his throat. "Yeah, yeah. Jeeze, I must be wiped out," he said, looking sheepishly up at her.

She smiled down at him and replied, "Stress and worry can really take its toll. I was asked to return these to you." She held out Gleason's insurance cards.

"Oh, yeah, thanks." Bobby stood and slid the cards into his right front pocket. He looked at Gleason. Julie saw the shadow cross his face. "How is she? Did she eat ok?"

Julie didn't say anything at first. She looked from Gleason to Bobby. "What?" he asked.

"Her fever is climbing again. She began to vomit after a few spoons of ice cream."

"She's worse, isn't she? Her numbers are lower."

Contemplating, Julie hesitated, and then said, "She is no better, detective. I'm sorry."

Bobby crossed his chest with his right arm and tucked it under his sling. He shuffled in a square and looked at the floor. Julie thought she heard a nearly silent sob.

Bobby's cell phone shrilled and they both jumped. He picked it off his belt, flipped it open, checked the number, and muttered 'shit.' He sniffed and wiped his eyes with the last two fingers of his right hand before he pushed 'talk' with his thumb and said, "Goren."

Julie left.

"Hey, Bobby, it's Lynn. Where are you?"

"At the hospital. What's up?" he said flatly.

With a gentle voice, Bishop asked, "How is she? Any better?"

Bobby hesitated, took a breath and said, "What do you want, Bishop?"

Lynn was struck by his ire. "Uh, a lot has happened since this morning. We were wondering if you wanted to be in on any of it. Don't give it a thought if you want to stay there. We've got it under control."

Bobby did not want to leave. He was afraid to. However, he did want to know what they had found out. "What did you learn?" he asked.

"Sledge and Alex searched Elliott's apartment. That is quite a story. It looks like you were right about him being the caller. Everything points to him. Bobby, he lived right across the street from the professor. Sledge is checking with Jerry for an update on new calls."

He wanted to know more about the apartment, but he didn't want to talk with Sledge or Eames. "Tell me what they found in the apartment."

I knew he wasn't going to talk with them, Bishop said to herself. "Bobby, I think you need to hear it first hand. The photos are being processed now and should be in by the time you get here – if you're coming in, that is."

"What else?"

"Clive Donohue is living in a motel; we're waiting on a warrant now."

Bobby wanted to go and get that bastard, strangle the life and shit out of him. But, he did not want to leave her. He did not want to leave her.

"Give me about an hour. If I'm not coming, I'll call you back." He flipped shut his phone. His hand throbbed, his gut burned, his headache had returned full force, and he didn't want to leave her.

"This just arrived, detective," an assistant said, handing Bishop a manila envelope from the DA's office.

"Thanks. Hey, Alex, the warrant for Donohue's apartment just arrived," she said, walking toward Eames.

"Ok, thanks," Eames said into the phone and then hung up. "Good, we can move then. Did you talk with Bobby?"

Bishop hesitated and said simply, "Yeah."

Alex looked at Lynn expectantly and then said flatly, "He's still upset, isn't he? He's not coming in."

"I honestly can't tell you if he's coming in or not. I brought him up to date on finding Donohue's address and searching the shooter's apartment, but he seemed really distant."

"What did he say about the skins and heads in the apartment?" Alex asked.

"I didn't give him any details, told him he needed to hear it first hand. I said the photos would probably be back when he got here."

"What else did he say?"

"Only that if he was coming, he'd be here in an hour; otherwise he'll call."

"Did he say how Wintermantle is doing?" Alex asked.

"I asked and he ignored the question."

Alex and Lynn looked at each other for a moment, each thinking the same thing. Sledge walked up and Lynn showed him the warrant.

"That for cum-boy's place?"

Both Alex and Lynn closed their eyes and shook their heads.

Bobby returned to Gleason's bedside. He stood stroking her forehead. Please get better. I can't live without you. I love you. Please, Gleason, get better. He spoke to her in his heart. He walked to the other side of the bed, opened the cupboard above the sink and removed a clean washcloth. He turned on the tap and let it run cold, wet the cloth, squeezed it, shut off the water and turned back to her.

He cleaned her forehead, face and neck. He turned on the tap, rewet the cloth, squeezed, and turned off the water, then he wiped her chest, and down her right arm. He rewet the cloth and pulled back the sheet, moved her hospital gown to one side and wiped over and under her breasts, her abdomen. He repeated the steps and gently lifted each arm and wiped the underside, the armpit, down her sides. 'I love you, don't die, get well' became the litany he prayed as he cleaned her body.

"No, not a thing has come in since the redirect was installed. Her home phone was dialed several times, but no messages have been left."

"When was the last hit?" Sledge asked Martin.

"Late Sunday night."

"Man that fits with the timeline – no calls at all after the shooting. Son-of-a-bitch, Goren was right. Again," Sledge said half to himself. "Hey thanks."

Edward turned to leave when Martin asked, "So, that student is the shooter and the caller?"

"Seems so," Sledge answered. "The caller and the shooter both have an accent, he lived right across the street from the professor – he was stalking her, so that made it easy to keep an eye on her. He was crazy; his priors from Interpol match the profile Huang developed; the skins and animal heads found in his apartment match the profile as well. Looks like the same guy."

"But you thought differently, in the beginning, didn't you?" Martin asked.

Sledge looked at the technician thoughtfully, and then said, "Actually, I did. Goren was convinced there was only one perp, this student Elliott."

"What made you think there were two people doing this?"

"I hate when Goren thinks he's right. So I usually play opposite him just to keep him on his toes. But this time . . . I honestly believed there were two people. A part of me still believes it, but in the face of all the evidence. . ."

Martin persisted, "But what was the evidence that made you – makes you still – think two people were involved?"

"Ok, I'm no shrink, and George Huang is among the best, but . . . why would a guy who has daily access to a target – the student with his teacher – use a second, completely different MO? In other words, the student saw the professor every day, he stalked her after class, on the weekends, he was in open contact with her, was in no way reticent. Why would he then use a completely different method of interacting with her – calling at night, leaving threatening messages, masturbating while talking to her? Why would he do that? See what I mean?"

Martin looked at the detective with tremendous respect. "Yeah, I do see what you mean. But I have to say, I can see where the same sick bastard could do both."

"I know, I know, I can too," Sledge said, "but I guess what really holds, or held, me back from buying the one perp theory is my gut. I just have a feeling it's two guys. Or, I did; maybe I still do. Doesn't matter now, because it seems Goren was right again."

"Thanks for talking with me. I appreciate you taking the time."

"No problem." Sledge turned to leave and then turned back, "Hey, thanks for catching the accent. That turned the whole investigation."

Martin and Sledge nodded to each other and Sledge headed back upstairs.

Julie stood just inside the cubical, watching the man. He didn't notice her, so involved in his loving task. That is one lucky woman, Julie thought, this is what love looks like. Bobby turned to rewet the cloth and saw her.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," she answered.

"This is ok, isn't it? Me wiping her like this? She looks so hot."

"Of course, that will help cool her. I need to give you this bag." She indicated the white plastic drawstring bag she held. A tag hung from the top. "It's her things. Well . . ." she checked the tag, "her shoes and a necklace." Julie looked up at the detective and continued, "Her other clothing was deemed un-returnable."

Bobby set down the cloth and reached for the bag. "Thank you."

Julie watched him, he is exhausted, his pain looks physical. "Are you feeling ok, detective?"

Bobby looked at her, "I'm ok."

The nurse stepped to him and gently put a hand on his right arm. "I don't think so. How is your hand?"

"It's ok," he lied.

"Well, I need to let you know that you will have to leave soon." He looked up sharply, she saw alarm broaching on panic. "Yes, I know, you don't want to leave, but you will have to. We need to begin to prep her for surgery." She watched fear change his posture, color, breathing – his whole being.

"Don't panic. Dr. Creighton has two surgeries before the professor. It probably won't be until much later this evening, perhaps later tonight, if she holds her own," Julie said, nodding toward Gleason. "We need to get some medications into her in order to get the Aventyl out of her system. That will take a few hours. She'll continue to sleep until sometime tomorrow afternoon."

Bobby watched the nurse and listened as she relayed all that was about to happen. Then he turned and looked at Gleason. She was shiny with sweat; her breathing was slow and shallow. She was the color of watered down skim milk.

"Go home detective, take another pain pill for your hand and lay down. You are exhausted. You need to be strong for this lady. You are killing yourself. Go home. Someone will call you and keep you informed of everything that's happening."

"Will they call me if she gets worse?" he said with tears behind his voice.

"Certainly; we'll call you before she goes into surgery if everything remains status. We will call you if she goes in quickly. We have your home phone, your work phone and your cell phone. And, you can call the desk at any time. Someone will tell you everything." This man is about to collapse, she thought.

"You need to go home, now. Are you ok to drive? Do you want me to call someone to come get you?"

"No, I'm ok." Bobby stepped to Gleason's side and placed his right hand on her forehead. She was shivering. "She's cold," he said turning to the nurse.

"That's the fever, she has the chills."

Bobby reached for and started to pull up the extra blanket that lay folded at the foot of the bed. Julie stepped up and took it from him. "Say goodbye to her, tell her you'll see her later. Then you have to go."

Julie set down the edge of the blanket and stepped back to the doorway, she looked out. Bobby could barely breathe. His right hand was shaking and his eyes were full, he felt like throwing up. He wiped her forehead with his palm and kissed her gently. I love you, don't die. I love you. He kissed her lips as a butterfly would kiss a petal. He picked up the white plastic bag and then his jacket. Julie heard him move and turned around. He looked briefly at her and she watched him leave.