Mind of a Fanatic
Chapter 11
Eric paced the interrogation room like a lion ready to pounce on the nearest wildebeest; his jaw was clenched, his hands balled into white knuckled fists. Fury radiated out of him in waves so strong that lab techs walked on the other side of the corridor as they passed just to put extra distance between themselves and the enraged Cuban. The only person brave enough to be in the room with Eric was Frank, and only because he was nearly as angry.
"Now remember, Delko," Frank said as calmly as he could. "You can't do to him what you want to; what we all want to. Talk; don't touch, we clear?"
"It's easy for you to say, Frank; you didn't see her and you didn't hold her. Her blood didn't soak into your clothes. Do not lecture me." Eric snapped. "You didn't hear her scream as he whipped her, you didn't have to process her while she continued to suffer." Eric remembered it all too clearly; the limp, disjointed weight of her in his arms, the rasp of her voice as she struggled to speak; her cries of pain while the EMT did her best to cause as little pain as possible.
"She was broken; he nearly killed her so don't tell me to take it easy."
"I know, Eric; I care about Calleigh, too," Frank said softly. "She'll kill me if she ever found out I told you this, but she fainted in Horatio's office the day Dupree abducted her; she was that frightened. That's not the Calleigh that beats my ass on the firing range every time. I have never seen her that fragile. She may be just a bit of a thing, but to me she's always fearless; you don't think it hurt to see her that vulnerable?"
"Ok, point taken," Eric said as Dupree was led in non-too-gently by a patrol officer. "I won't touch the bastard no matter how much he provokes me."
"Thanks, Jeffers," Frank said as Jeffers roughly shoved Dupree into a chair. It was obvious that the officer knew exactly who Dupree was and what he had done and was taking it just as personally as everyone else in the building. "Alright, Dupree, why did you take her?"
"I am a Catholic priest. I will be addressed as such," Dupree said calmly. " 'A priest-whoever he may be-is always another Christ. To love God and not revere the priest...this is not possible.' "
Tripp rolled his eyes. "Look Dupree-"
" 'Though you know it well I want to remind you again that a priest is another "Christ"; and that the Holy Spirit said: Nolite tangere Christos meos- Do not touch my Christs." Dupree quoted mildly, for the entire world like the teaching father he was supposed to be.
Eric looked over at Frank, who was about to blow. He leaned in, placing his hands on the table. "Father Dupree, why did you take CSI Duquesne?"
"My son, it's simple; she needed salvation. She had lost her way, if she even knew what it was. It's obvious by her lifestyle, her immodest dress and career choice; a woman truly dedicated to Christ would not dress that way and would, as being a single woman, still be living with her parents. Once married, she would not work outside the home and she would raise the children." Dupree said reasonably, voice laced with regret. "I wanted to help her. I didn't have enough time,"
Eric clenched his jaw and began to flick the photographs that he had taken of Calleigh's injuries out onto the table in front of Dupree. To his satisfaction, the priest seemed to be genuinely bothered by them.
"You call that helping her? I call it systematically beating and torturing her."
"Please take them away; the pictures are immodest." Dupree pleaded. " I have no wish to look at pictures of a naked woman. It wouldn't be pious for me to look at them,"
"You put those marks there, dumbass," Frank growled. "What's the matter, not proud of your work; squeamush?"
"She needed to learn; she has so much to learn. I was her teacher and I was to bring her to God," Dupree explained. "She was so resisting. I wanted to treat her gently, but she fought me every step of the way. I had to be rough; it was the only way I could make her see."
"You took a happy, healthy, blindingly intelligent woman at the top of her field for what," Eric snapped, leaning in, using his bulk to try to intimidate. "That woman is my colleague and my friend. She has my respect and the respect of every person in this building, she has helped to give voice to innocent victims and bring their killers to justice. Don't you think that's a calling? Why would God give her all that intelligence and the right circumstances for it to flourish if He wanted her never to use it?"
Dupree sat, completely unruffled by Eric's impassioned speech. "She may have worldly intelligence, which is the work of the Devil, but not Godly intelligence, which comes from the Divine."
"This is unbelievable! Do either of us look like we just fell off the turnip truck?"Frank rolled his eyes, remembering that kind of talk back in Texas. "You took her because she humiliated you and put you away. You wanted revenge; admit it. You hate her for what she did."
"No, my son, I love her for what she did. She was God's Instrument in showing me the errors of my ways."Dupree shook his head sadly. Why couldn't these people understand that he had done it for her soul's salvation? "I wasn't good enough; I didn't try hard enough to bring those women into the Light of God's Love. To repay her, I wanted to save her. I was to be her redemption and she, mine."
"Well, while you were trying to save her, you nearly killed her. She's in the Intensive Care Unit right now fighting for her life." Eric growled, shoving a pad of paper and a pen toward Dupree. "She's picked up an infection and if the doctors can't stop it she could die. If she does, you'll be facing murder one. Abduction, assault and battery of a police officer will only get you 30 – 35 years at best. Murder one will get you life. So, if you love her like you say, you'd better start writing everything you did to her. Everything; look on it as a confession."
"I'm not lying. It was out of Divine Love that I did what I did. She is too tender-hearted and gentle to be out in a man's world. She needs the comfort and safety of Holy Mother Church."Dupree took up the pen. "Did you know that she cried when she ...what do you call it...processed my first Chapel? She tried to hide it, but she did; I saw it. Someone that tender needs not to be out in the brutal world. It will kill her soul."
Bile rose in Eric's throat. No wonder Calleigh is so nearly pathological in not letting anyone see her as anything other than 100 at any time. He felt sick and realized that he needed to get out of there.
"Frank, get his confession."
He strode out the door and directly to the Mens'. He barely made it to the toilet before he threw up.
Alexx sat on Calleigh's bed, smoothing a cool cloth across the other woman's forehead. It had been nearly 24 hours since the infection had set in and the doctors were frantically trying to beat it down. They had overloaded Calleigh's system with antibiotics, but they seemed to be taking their sweet time in working. In the meantime, Calleigh's temperature had soared to a whopping 104 degrees. Normally, they would have immersed her whole body in cool water, but they didn't dare try it with the extent of her injuries. If her temperature didn't go down soon, they were afraid of brain damage.
"Come on, baby, you've got to keep fighting. I know you're tired, but don't give up, not now that you're safe." Alexx pleaded with her unconscious friend. She removed the now warm cloth from Calleigh's forehead and dropped it back in the ice water, removing another and repeating the process. "Don't let some little old bug from the 'Glades beat you. You're tougher than that."
Ryan sat holding Calleigh's hand while she slept. Her fever had broken over the night and the infection finally began to weaken in response to the antibiotics. She was going to be alright. However, a side effect of the antibiotic overload was that she had slept 36 hours straight. Her fever had broken, but it was clear that she had lost some weight. Between the prolonged sleep and her captivity, she had had nothing to eat in almost five days.
."C'mon, babe, you have to wake up. I know that sleep is healing, but so is waking up and eating." Ryan got up from the chair, sat on the bed, taking great care not to jar her and stroked her cheek "If you don't wake up soon, the doc is going to come in here and stick you with another IV feed." He paused, looking at her cut and bruised, but peaceful face.
"Calleigh, I'm going to tell you this while I can. I look up to you. When I came into the lab, processing your dad's case, and I still don't like him and all the problems he causes in your life by the way, I grew to admire the grace with which you handle it and everything else. You are my mentor and friend. I'm beyond glad that you're going to be ok because I can't see my life or work in the lab without you. I don't even mind it when you yell at me. It means you care. Aw Calleigh, please wake up."
"I've been awake since you sat on the bed," Calleigh said softly, opening her eyes. She smiled warmly at him. "Thank you for saying what you did. I do yell because I do care and it's not just about the evidence."
"H-how do you feel?" Ryan asked, his cheeks coloring in embarrassment.
Calleigh lay silent for a moment, considering. Her stomach growled loudly.
"Hungry," she replied with a small laugh. Her laughter turned into a cry of pain as her side throbbed.
"Easy, easy; you have a couple of broken ribs," Ryan soothed. Suddenly his eyes lit up and a goofy grin spread across his face. "You're laughing, Calleigh. That bastard beat you up, but he didn't break you; you're ok. I was worried."
"Hey, I get it."Calleigh looked up at him and saw tears standing in his eyes. That spoke more to her than any speech could have. She reached over and took his hand. "I love you, too, baby brother."
"You said you were hungry."Ryan chuckled, understanding the depth of emotion that made her acknowledge him as family and was touched deeply by it. "What do you want? I won't swear to it personally, but I've heard the food in this place is actually edible."
"How about some scrambled eggs and grits? I probably shouldn't have anything too solid just yet." Calleigh said. "I'd love a big old glass of grapefruit juice too."
"State of Florida vs. Father Peter Dupree S.J.," the bailiff read. "One count of abduction and systematic torture of a Miami Dade CSI ,two counts of assault of Miami Dade CSI's. The State asks for no bail as the defendant has already proven a flight risk from the state of Louisiana."
"The State's request is granted." Judge Harold Hirsh flipped through the case file, sickened at what he saw. "Bail is denied for Father Dupree. Is there anything else?"
"The State requests and expedited trial date your Honor."
Judge Hirsh raised an eyebrow. "Does the State say why?"
"May it please the Court; the integrity of the evidence is time sensitive . "
"Granted."The Judge understood immediately. Good tactic. The injuries will still be fresh. ""Jury selection begins immediately. Opening statements begin Monday morning, December 26 at 9a.m."
He flipped through some papers until he found what he was looking for. "Room 412, Judge Adam Garcia."