Chapter 8
After the struggle with Charlie, Don felt himself nearing panic again, and once he had made sure his father was all right, he exited the room and found a place where he could use his cell. He forced himself to stop thinking about what he had just witnessed and concentrate on the case, and called Megan.
"I talked with Larry earlier," she opened the conversation. "He said Charlie is doing as well as can be expected. We'd all like to see him, but maybe we should give him a day?"
"Yeah, that sounds good," Don answered, unwilling to be distracted. "Anything new?"
He could hear the smile in her voice. "Colby pulled something on a 'Sam Davison'. Works for the cleaning service. He's been flagged by several agencies. He's a member of something called Purity Reigns, and he's written several racist and moralistically judgmental treatises, letters to various politicians, radical right newspapers…even mainstream publications have printed some of his milder tomes. Freedom Now, an L.A.-based underground paper, printed some very specific stuff just last month. Rants against the amalgamation of society, and the danger Jewish people posed to the 'pure, white nation'."
Don stopped her. "Jewish? You think this was anti-Semitic?"
"National Bank was purchased last year by a syndicate of Jewish businessmen. It's a possible link." Megan's voice grew in excitement. "Get this. Davison was a suspect early-on in that abortion clinic bombing in San Diego last year, but they never had enough to charge him. Had to let him leave the county when he wanted to move here."
Don's gut tensed. "Interrogation?"
"Colby and David are headed for his house now. Based on the letters, we got a probable cause warrant. Ben Jacobs' team is going to handle the search while David and Colby bring him in for questioning."
"I want to see it."
Silence. Then, hesitantly. "I'm not sure Merrick will allow that. He's keeping a close eye on this one, and he doesn't want you anywhere near it. Think about it, Don. If this is the guy, do you want the case compromised, possibly thrown out of court later?"
Already overheated from Charlie's room, beads of sweat began to drip off Don's forehead and he clutched his phone tighter. "Put him in 3, use the video feed to forensics. I won't even be on the same floor."
"And after you see something you don't like, how long will it take you to knock out whoever is with you and take the back stairs?"
Don barely refrained from calling her a "bitch" out loud. He tried to think of another argument.
"Don." Megan's voice was firm. "We want this guy. Merrick himself will be watching this interrogation, and you need to trust your team. You may be the senior agent, but we're all good at what we do. Let us do it."
Don closed his eyes and banged his head on the nearest wall, startling a passing candy striper. "Dammit…I do, Reeves, I know you can all do this. I'm just…crazed, here." Don was horrified to hear himself revealing part of the scene in Charlie's room. "We just told him. Well, Dad told him, I couldn't even look at him. It was…beyond description, Meg. I need to do something for him."
She gentled her voice. "I'm sorry, Don. I'm with Merrick on this one. You really need to see someone about this. You were a victim too, Don, twice. You were physically impacted by the bombing, and emotionally devastated when you found your brother. We aren't being hard-asses by sending you for a psych eval, Don, at least I'm not. I genuinely care about you as a friend, and your entire family. I hope you know that by now."
Don banged his head on the wall again, It should make him feel better, to know that he couldn't get one past Agent Reeves. Maybe that meant Davison wouldn't either.
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Shortly after Charlie's 10 a.m. meltdown, Dr. Trendell had arrived and checked his vitals, then lifted his hand and inspected his fingers. He smiled and showed Alan how he could push back on them, causing the blood to drain from them, and then let go and watch them immediately pink up again. "This is excellent," he said, and Alan tried to believe him.
"What did that nurse give him?", he asked, glancing at Charlie worriedly. His son had slept through the entire exam.
"A pretty strong hit of Thorazine," answered the surgeon. "It's used for anxiety in extreme cases, but the main reason we use it here is because it has been found to have secondary benefits. It dilates tiny blood vessels in the fingers, encouraging blood fill."
The doctor carefully placed Charlie's hand back on the pillows and scribbled in a chart. "I'll leave him on IV fluids through noon tomorrow, then we'll try adding clear liquids for a few meals. I also want him out of bed in a chair a few times tomorrow. Just make sure his arm is always elevated above his heart, and if you see any signs of distress, or discoloration in the fingers, you call someone right away." He finished scribbling and looked at Alan. "Hopefully he'll be on soft foods, and walking short distances, by Thursday evening, and a regular diet by Friday. I may be able to release him Saturday morning."
Alan gaped at him. "You're insane," he stated flatly. "Less than a week after such intensive surgery? You have no idea what he just went through, half an hour ago!"
Dr. Trendell raised an eyebrow. "Actually, I've done several hundred of these replantations, so I probably know pretty well. I'll come back later this afternoon to speak with Charlie, and probably tomorrow, we'll have our psychiatrist pay a visit also. Trust me, I've seen overwrought patients before. As for rapid release, some patients are out in three days. Because of Charlie's other injuries, I'm letting him go a little slower."
Alan drew himself up as tall as he could and looked the surgeon in the eye. "I don't doubt your experience, Dr. Trendell. In fact, I'm counting on it. But Charlie is my son, not just another notch on your scalpel. He will leave here when he is ready, not when you are. Do you understand me? Am I perfectly clear?"
Trendell stared at him, shaking his head. "And to think I've been worried about the other one."
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Don waited downstairs for a few minutes after he'd disconnected from Megan, just in case she wanted to call him right back and tell him Davison had confessed on the spot. Some time later, he finally admitted that wasn't going to happen and went to the cafeteria, where he bought some coffee for himself and his father before heading back upstairs. Looking at his watch outside Charlie's door, he saw that he had been gone almost an hour, and felt terrible. He didn't seem to be holding up his end here at all. He wasn't helping on the case, he wasn't helping his father, he hadn't helped Charlie…
He pushed open the door, and met Alan's eyes. He stood in the doorway, unsure.
"If one of those is for me, son, I'd appreciate your bringing it over here. I could use it."
Don crossed the room quietly. He looked at Charlie, and saw that he was still sleeping, and handed his father a cup of coffee. Alan took a sip and sighed. "Are you all right?"
"I…checked on the case," Don avoided. "Megan says they have a suspect. Agents are on the way to his house with a search warrant now, and my team will bring him back to the office for an interrogation."
Alan contemplated the face of his youngest son and wished he understood Don's obsession. He was afraid that when they did apprehend someone, and Charlie's hand was still surrounded by a line of black stitches like some kind of goth bracelet, Don would crack. He seemed close enough, already. "The doctor was here," he said, every bit as good at avoidance as his son, and he filled Don in on the conversation. He left out the part where he threatened the surgeon.
Don nodded and wandered toward the other chair. He looked again at Charlie, careful to focus on his face. "How much longer will he sleep? When he wakes up, will it be as bad as before?"
"I don't know. I hope not – but I don't really care right now," Alan admitted. "I'm just glad he's going to wake up again."