Chapter Five
Martin and Elena walked into the bullpen, their coats wet from the snow.
"That took a long time. It's almost three," Viv remarked.
Martin looked at Elena, who sighed audibly before sitting at her desk.
"What happened?" Viv asked, turning her chair to face the younger agents.
"When we got there, Mr. Whitman opened the door," Elena started.
Flashback:
"Yes?"
"Mr. Whitman, I'm Special Agent Martin Fitzgerald and this is my colleague, Special Agent Elena Delgado of the FBI. We're following up on your son's disappearance."
"Oh, come on in."
They followed the man into the living room of the row house. Mrs. Whitman sat in a chair with her legs drawn up under her. Mr. Whitman stood in front of the fireplace. Elena looked first to Martin and then to the odd picture before her. Neither parent was visibly upset. Mr. Whitman lit a cigarette and exhaled a puff of smoke.
"Excuse me; may I use your restroom?" Elena asked.
"Down the hall, on the left," Mr. Whitman replied.
Martin looked around the living room and saw no evidence that a child lived there. There were no photographs, no toys or books apparent.
"Walk me through when you first realized that Jonathan was missing," Martin said, opening up his notepad.
"We had breakfast and then he went out to the backyard," Mrs. Whitman answered absently.
"Why wasn't he in school?"
"We home-school him,"
"Do you have a recent photo?"
Elena walked into the bathroom and looked to see if there was any evidence of a third person living in the house. It appeared to be a guest bathroom. She walked out and explored the other rooms. Behind an oak door was a study; oak bookshelves lined the walls and a large desk anchored one end while the other was occupied by a leather sofa. There were no photographs of anyone anywhere. The next room was a spotless guest room, and after that a linen closet. She walked back to join the conversation.
Mr. Whitman handed him an identical headshot as the photo Viv had on the whiteboard.
"What was he wearing?" Elena said, pulling out her pad.
"Jeans and a red sweatshirt," Mr. Whitman answered.
"May we see Jonathan's bedroom?" Martin asked.
"Why would you want to do that?" Mrs. Whitman asking un-bending her legs and sitting stiffly upright.
"It might lead us to him. Often, young boys run away to a friend's house. Does Jonathan have many friends?" Elena queried.
"Tons," Mr. Whitman replied.
"I'm going to need their names," Martin said.
"I'll go get my address book," Mrs. Whitman said.
"Great, I'll go with you," Elena said, following her.
Mrs. Whitman looked at her in fear and then at her husband, before heading upstairs with Elena in tow. Martin turned to Mr. Whitman, who was leaving the room. Following, Martin caught up with him in the kitchen where he had just poured a hefty glass of scotch.
"Want some?"
"No, thanks, a little early for me."
"He's a good boy, you know; quiet and loving."
Martin continued to observe the father, sensing that something was off.
"What happened to Jonathan, Mr. Whitman?"
Taking a large sip of his drink, the older man swallowed.
"Nothing, absolutely nothing."
"Where is your son?"
"Exactly where he has been for the last six years; in a private facility in Connecticut."
"What's wrong with him?"
"When he was three, he was in a car accident with my wife. His car seat failed and he was badly injured. When he recovered, we took him home. The doctors told us that he would never truly recover; his head injuries were too severe. We tried for a year, to take care of him ourselves, but it was too much. Jeanine had a breakdown. That was when we made the decision to hospitalize him. I'm sorry about misleading you. Today is his birthday. I should have stopped her when she called the police. She has so much guilt. Sometimes she just forgets that he isn't here with us. I know this is madness; but it stems for her love for him."
Martin heard a noise behind him and saw Elena alone walking into the kitchen.
"You should be with your wife," she directed.
Mr. Whitman downed the remainder of his drink and headed upstairs.
"What did she tell you?
"That she loved her son very much."
"Right, let's go to the office.
"So that's it? The mother makes up the story to take away her grief and guilt?" Vivian asked.
"Yeah," Martin said, sighing.
"So we drove to the hospital in Greenwich and saw Jonathan for ourselves. He was happy and loving; just as the mother said," Elena remarked.
"Write up your reports and get them to Van Doren before the end of the day. She'll have to decide if charges will be pressed."
"Where's Danny?" Martin asked.
"He's escorting Anne Cassidy home."
Martin nodded and turned to his computer start on his report. Viv took a sip of coffee and then her desk phone rang.
"Johnson."
"Hi, Vivian. It's Maria Malone. Do you know where Jack is?"
"Hi, Maria, yes, I'm sorry, I should have called you. It's just been crazy here at the office. Wednesday, Jack and another agent were caught in an explosion. He broke his ankle and had some bumps and bruises."
"It's Saturday, where is he? There's no answer at the apartment, his direct-dial to the office, or his cell phone."
"He was in a house when a bomb went off. It collapsed on top of him. He was buried under debris and five inches of water for over sixteen hours before they were able to extract him. He aspirated some water and now has pneumonia and a viral infection. Tyler called me around noon and said the fever is coming down and he is much better according to the doctors."
"How…how much longer do you think he'll be in the hospital?"
"I don't know. I would expect two days or so."
"I'm going to send you an email. Would you respond with the particulars on the hospital? I think the girls will want to make cards. I can courier them to him for delivery tomorrow."
"Sure, Maria."
"Thanks, Vivian. Have a good weekend."
"You too, bye."
"Bye."
6:00pm
"How is he?" Dr. Aswan asked, walking up to the bed.
"He's been coughing a lot; just about every hour he wakes himself up," Tyler replied.
"Why don't you take a break while I examine him?"
"Good idea," Tyler said, standing slowly and heading for the door.
Dr. Aswan returned his attention to Jack. His fever still hovered at one hundred two. Taking out his stethoscope, he listened to Jack's lungs, only to be interrupted by a spontaneous coughing attack. Slipping the stethoscope out of his ears and around his neck, Dr. Aswan pulled Jack into a better position, handing him a towel to spit into.
"Easy, Jack. Easy, do you want some water?"
Jack vehemently shook his head as the coughing subsided. He sat for a moment just trying to catch his breath before leaning back against the pillows. Dr. Aswan listened again to Jack's lungs and looked at his watch.
"How's the pain, Jack?"
"It hurts to breathe and I have a headache."
Dr. Aswan took his flash light and checked Jack's pupils before starting a basic neurological exam. Finishing, he decided that Jack's headache wasn't related to his injuries.
"Jack, I can't sedate you, because of the fluid in your lungs. I will give you a painkiller."
Jack nodded, closing his eyes tightly against the pain.
"I'll be right back."
Dr. Aswan left Jack alone as he went to the nurses' station to make notes on the chart before pulling the medication. Tyler walked back into Jack's room and stopped. His friend appeared asleep except for his hands clenching the sheet and the overall tension on his face.
"Okay, okay, I'm here. You're safe, you're okay."
Jack released the sheet from his right hand and offered it to Tyler who took it in both of his.
"Just relax into it, Jack."
Jack shook his head very slowly and continued to breathe quickly through his mouth against the pain. Moments later, Dr. Aswan came into the room and administered the analgesic into the IV. Slowly, Jack's muscles decompressed.
"What's going on?" Tyler asked.
"His chest hurts, he has a headache and he's tired. Tell me this, Tyler, is he generally tired?"
"When I see him, yes. I've known him for about twenty years. But it's only been since he joined Missing Persons that he's been this way."
"Maybe he should take a break."
"Yeah, maybe he should, but I don't think he will," Tyler said, looking back at his friend.
"I just gave him some pain relief. Depending on his fatigue, he might be up in an hour. I'm off duty. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Thanks, night, Malouf."
"Night, Tyler."
Dr. Aswan left the cubicle as Tyler settled into the chair by Jack's bed.
9am Sunday
"Good morning, Mr. Simpson," the nurse greeted him.
"Good morning, how is he today?"
"Another rough night, I'm afraid. He woke up every hour."
"Coughing?"
"No, not always."
"Damn, he's looking for me. I'm in the doghouse."
Tyler left the confused nurse and walked in to see his friend. He wasn't surprised to see Jack awake.
"Hi, I'm sorry I wasn't here last night."
Jack closed his eyes while collecting his thoughts.
"How do you feel?"
"Tired, anxious; it hurts."
Tyler picked up Jack's right hand and held it as he sat down in the chair. Jack gripped it solidly.
"Please, please stay, Tyler."
"I will, Jack. I will. Now please try to sleep. You need to sleep."
Very gradually, Tyler felt Jack's grip loosen on his hand as he slipped into sleep. Tyler smiled and pulled out the paperback book from his pocket and started to read.
6:00pm
"Good to see you, Tyler."
"Malouf, I need to ask a favour."
"Go ahead," Dr. Aswan said as he removed his stethoscope and prepared to check on Jack.
"I need to be with him."
"Excuse me?"
"Jesus, Malouf, we're not a couple. But he relaxes when I'm here; he let's down that Great Wall of China that he's built around himself."
"Let me think about it."
Tyler nodded and stood to walk to the window while Dr. Aswan conducted his exam. Nodding and making several positive sounds, he left the room. Ten minutes later, he returned.
"Can you give us the room? These last nine hours when you've been here have helped him turn the curve. I want to move him from ICU back upstairs."
"Sure, uhm the fifth floor?"
"Yes, we'll meet you up there."
Tyler smiled, picked up his topcoat, and left the room. He went to the cafeteria and engaged his phone.
"Johnson."
"Hey, Viv, it's me. They're moving him out of ICU."
"Great Tyler, that's great news."
"Could you call your team and Annie? I need to get back to wait for him."
"Sure, of course. Oh, and Van Doren sent an email that Alvarez looks good for your killings. The D.A. is prepping a case now."
"Excellent, we win all around."
"You bet, I'll talk to you soon, Tyler."
"Thanks, Vivian."
"Bye."
"Bye," Tyler replied terminating the call before turning his phone off.
7:00pm
Tyler paced at the nurses' station waiting for Jack to be brought up. Finally, Tyler saw Dr. Aswan with several associates, moving Jack into a room down the hall. Walking up to them a nurse held up her hand indicating they needed five minutes. Tyler resumed his pacing.
"Tyler," Dr. Aswan called ten minutes later.
He walked in to see Jack awake but agitated.
"Hey, buddy, you're okay. You got moved out of ICU. You're getting better. Just sleep. I'm here, now, Jack. Just sleep."
Jack looked to him silently. Tyler walked up to him reaching for his shoulder.
"What's wrong?"
"Are you staying, now?"
Tyler looked to Dr. Aswan who nodded.
"Yeah, Malone, I'm staying. You need to get better soon though. I don't have any clean clothes with me!"
"Funny," Jack said, closing his eyes.