Exhausted already, she finally gave in. With the doctor's assurance that there would be no change and that her son would be sleeping all night as well, she allowed Fuller to drive her back home. Sleep did not come easy for Margaret, however, and it was nearly dawn when she finally drifted off, the thoughts of her son now occupying her dreams.
Early the next morning, Doug arrived as promised to take Margaret Hanson to the hospital where Captain Fuller was already waiting. Dr. Marcus met them in the ICU waiting area. When Doug asked if they could all go in, the doctor agreed but cautioned, "Only for a minute. Then we're going to let Mrs. Hanson stay while we bring him out of sedation." He opened the door for them and then led them past beds separated by curtains until he reached the second to last section, just opposite the nurses' station. He stood aside and let the visitors push past the curtain.
Margaret had been bracing herself for this moment, but she had not imagined anything close to what she was seeing in front of her now. Her son lay flat in the bed, covered with a sheet and a thin blanket, surrounded by a myriad of monitors and machines. Numerous tubes and wires were attached to or coming out of him. He looked so frail, his body nearly swallowed up by the hospital gown he wore.
She walked over to the bed and looked down at him, biting her lip hard to maintain her composure. She put a hand in his hair, smoothing it back from his face. His face. Her heart broke at the sight of it. Bruised and battered, eyes swollen, stitches in his forehead and running along his lips…she would know him anywhere, but he looked nothing like the handsome, strong, young man that she knew and loved.
Doug and Fuller had seen Tom at the crime scene, so they were somewhat prepared for his appearance. Still, the sight of him now, even after being cleaned up, was a shock to them. They stayed a moment and then left quietly, leaving Margaret and the doctor alone with Tom.
Dr. Marcus touched Tom's mother on the arm and asked if she was ready. She looked at him and nodded, so he motioned to one of the nurses to come over and start reducing the amount of sedative Tom was receiving through his IV. The doctor placed a chair by the bed for Margaret and then stood out of the way with the nurse.
Margaret sat down and took Tom's hand. She cringed at the soft restraint that was holding his arm to the bedrail, but cringed even more at the bandage wrapped around his wrist. The thin, white gauze failed to conceal the blood seeping from his wound. There was a matching bandage on his other wrist, and she pushed out of her mind the images of what had caused these injuries. She looked at his face again, noticing for the first time the rope burns around his mouth and the variety of marks on his neck…small bruises that looked like fingertips and other less distinctive splotches of dark red. Just when she thought she might be starting to lose her composure, Tom began to make small sounds and move his head.
Margaret sat up straighter in her chair and looked at Dr. Marcus. He nodded to the nurse who then made another adjustment to the IV. Margaret tightened her grip on Tom's hand and leaned over him, stroking his hair with her other hand as he began to mumble and his eyelids fluttered.
Tom felt hands on him, and panic started to reach through his foggy mind. He whimpered a little and cringed at the touches, but the hands did not leave. They were not hurting him, though, he realized. These were gentle hands touching him, not rough hands grabbing him. Then a soft, familiar voice whispered, "It's okay, baby…it's okay."
It couldn't be, could it? As he became more and more aware of what was happening, he decided it would be safe now to open his eyes. Lying flat and looking up with blurry eyes, he blinked a few times and then saw her smiling face. "Mom?" he murmured through barely moving lips.
You need your mommy to come kiss it and make it better?
His face clouded with fear and he yanked his hand away from Margaret's as far as the restraint would allow. "No…" he panted out, his heart rate increasing dramatically as he began looking around wildly.
"Tom, calm down."
Easy there, pal…you're gonna hurt yourself!
"Oh my God," he moaned, now pulling hard at both restraints. "No, no, no, no…" He shrank away as his mother reached out to him.
Margaret looked up at the doctor, her face pleading with him to do something.
"Talk to him," Dr. Marcus said. "Make sure he knows it's you and that he's safe."
She turned her attention back to her son who was now writhing on the bed and whimpering. She placed her hands lightly on each of his arms, trying to keep him from pulling at the restraints. Hovering over him, she said, "Tom…Tom look at me. It's your mom. You're okay, honey, you're safe. Please, Tommy…look at me." She placed one hand gently on the side of his face as he continued to try to twist away from her.
Her words made it through his groggy mind, but they were muffled…as if he were hearing them through cotton stuffed into his ears. He was moving away from her, toward the other words in his mind that were coming through loud and clear…the frightening words, the threats, and the vile curses. Eyes tightly closed, he began to cry, still desperately pulling to get his arms free.
Margaret looked at Dr. Marcus. "Take them off," she said.
"I really don't think that's such a good ide…"
"Take them off!" she shouted as her son continued to struggle beneath her.
The doctor sighed and moved to the side of the bed. He took off the restraint, and the nurse did the same with Tom's other arm. Before he had a chance to flail them, Margaret grasped each one firmly and held them in place.
Hold him still for me.
"Oh God…oh God…" Feeling himself being held down, Tom began to cry harder.
Margaret let go of one arm so that she could place her hand on his face. "Tom, please…open your eyes. Look at me."
He used his newly freed hand to reach out and grasp her arm, clutching it desperately as he continued to cry. "Please…God, please…don't…" he sobbed.
His mother was growing more distressed by the minute. She seemed to be unable to reach him and had no idea what to do. Dr. Marcus encouraged, "Just keep talking to him. He's coming out of it. You're doing a good job."
She was crying now too as she pleaded with her unresponsive son, "Tommy, please…please listen to me. Open your eyes, sweetie. Look at me…please." She now had one hand caressing his hair and the other rubbing his shoulder. Tom was gripping both of her arms now, trying to push her away, but she would not give up and spoke more forcefully now. "Tom! Look at me! You're okay! I'm here! You're okay!"
No one was holding him down now. He heard his mother calling him, but it couldn't be. It was another damned dream. He wouldn't allow his hopes to be raised again. He couldn't take it if it was another dream. But she sounded so real. So close. And so sad. Why was she crying? He would do anything for her…anything she asked. He opened his eyes.
Finally, Margaret was looking into those dark brown eyes, and this time they were seeing her…really seeing her. She smiled through her tears as she looked down on him. "It's okay…I'm here, baby…you're going to be okay."
She was real. She was really there. He tried to look around…to see where he was, but her gaze held his eyes locked to hers. It didn't matter where he was. He was safe now. Overwhelmed with both confusion and relief, he began to sob again, managing to choke out, "Mom…" as he tried to pull her closer into a hug.
Tom's arms wrapped around his mother as she bent over and lifted him just enough to get her arms under him and complete the embrace. She held him tightly, mindful of his injuries, and whispered soft, soothing words to him as he clung to her and cried. After a moment, she laid him back down and gently took his arms from around her, but held tightly to his hands.
Tom looked up at her, still clearly frightened despite the security of knowing his mother was with him. He swallowed, and asked, lips trembling, "Do you know what they did to me?"
Margaret put a soft hand to his face and tenderly wiped his tears away as she nodded. He looked away, ashamed, and she gently guided his gaze back to meet hers. "You're going to be just fine. We're going to take care of you, baby. Everything's going to be all right."
He sniffed a little, but did not respond, looking away again.
"Doug and Captain Fuller are here," she said. "They've been really worried about you." She paused and waited for a response that did not come. "Would you like to see them?" she finally asked.
Still he did not look at her, but he slowly shook his head.
She squeezed her son's hand tightly and told him, "It's okay…whenever you're ready."
The next two days went by in a blur for Margaret Hanson. Tom was still in the ICU due to his head injuries and an infection he had developed at his surgery site. He still had not allowed anyone to visit except for his mother who remained by his side as much as possible. Even when he was asleep, she would not leave for fear that she would not be there when the next nightmare came. And they came often. Tom was rarely asleep longer than an hour before he would begin to mumble and thrash about in the bed. The nightmares always ended the same way…with a scream that ripped a little more of his mother's heart away each time it happened. But she was always there, ready to gather him into her arms and hold him until he quieted down and fell asleep again.
Dr. Marcus and the nurses had made some progress in getting Tom to talk to them, but it was mostly short responses to their questions. He still had not talked about what had happened to him. Dr. Marcus let Margaret know that the hospital psychologist would have to talk to Tom before he would allowed to leave the hospital, and the sooner this happened the better he thought it would be for Tom. She had not wanted to push him, but she also realized that he needed to begin talking about it, for it wouldn't be long before the choice was not up to him.
"Tom," Margaret had gently told him. "Sweetie, you need to see Doug and Adam…and Detective Michaels." When he did not respond, she had sighed and continued, "Honey, if you don't…soon…the chief is going to assign someone else to your case." She had soothingly rubbed his back as he lay on his side facing away from her, still silent. "You're going to have to talk about it. Wouldn't you rather talk to your friends than someone you don't know?" she said, stroking his hair. "Hmmm?" Finally, she saw a slight nod and heard a barely audible agreement.
"Mark!"
Detective Michaels turned around to see CSI Angie Hicks running down the hall toward him as he headed for the exit. "Hey, Angie, what's up? You remember Officer Penhall and Captain Fuller?"
"Yeah…hi." She nodded at the two men who were just about to leave the police station with the detective. "I'm glad I caught you guys. Have you talked to Tom Hanson yet?"
"No," replied Michaels. "We're on our way over there right now."
"Ah…well, I've got some results for you." She handed the detective a file and sighed. "But the only physical evidence we have is for Tom and one other person."
"Just one?" Doug asked. "You saw him. You think just one person did all that and Tom wasn't able to get away?"
She shot him a quick look. "I didn't say that's what I think. I said that's all the evidence we have…just Hanson and one other person. We got a DNA hit on an ex-con…guy named Lee Eckert."
For a moment, Doug and Fuller stood with their mouths open, and then Doug broke the silence, uttering, "Oh shit."
Michaels looked at the two men uncomprehendingly, but the CSI said, "Yeah, I know."
"Somebody wanna fill me in?" the detective said.
"Hanson busted him about a year and a half ago," replied Fuller. "It took him two months undercover to get close enough to Eckert for him to confess to the murder of a teenage girl." He looked at Angie. "What the fuck happened? He's supposed to be serving life."
"Got out about a month ago," she answered. "The case file says Judge Beckett threw out the conviction based on a coerced confession."
"That's bullshit!" Doug exclaimed.
Detective Michaels shook his head. "Yeah, well, Beckett seems to have a record full of bullshit. This isn't the first guilty asshole he's set free. Everyone thinks he's on the take, but so far no one can prove it."
"Look," said Fuller, "why didn't anyone let us know this guy was out?"
"Fell through the cracks, I guess," Angie replied.
"Yeah." The captain's eyes were on fire as he spoke. "Fell through the cracks and my officer pays the price. This whole system is shot to hell!"
"Adam, come on," Michaels said. "We've both been around long enough to know how things work. Shit happens. And it happens to roll downhill. Let's just concentrate on getting this guy back behind bars where he belongs."
"Yeah…yeah…" Fuller ran his hand across his face, trying to calm down. "So what did you find?" he asked the CSI.
"Well," she sighed. "The only trace on Hanson's clothes was environmental…just dirt and leaves and some…stuff…from around the dumpster where he was found. His underwear had a mixture of blood and semen on it. The blood was his…the semen was both his and Eckert's, which is consistent with the rape kit sample taken from Hanson's body."
All three men looked extremely uncomfortable as well as angry as she continued. "The ropes used to tie him up were too contaminated by blood and dirt to get any epithelia. The cloth used to gag him had just his blood and saliva on it. And there were no skin scrapings under his nails."
"So that's it?" Doug asked, trying to hold his temper.
"I'm sorry, guys. But right now, Eckert is your only lead."
A/N: I think this one's a little longer than usual. I hope you like it. Is the pace okay? Or too slow? Too fast? I know where it's going, and I think the pace is working well, but I'd like to know how you're feeling about it too. Thanks for dropping me a line! :-)