for
signs of life. “He’s breathing, Elliot. Stay calm. It will be OK.”
“Come on, Frank.
Don’t get lazy on me. You’ve got a lot of work to do.”
In eight minutes
paramedics arrive. “We were told you have a hostile for pickup,” one of them
says.
“Yeah,” Joanna
replies, “but he’ll have to wait. We’ve got a chest wound.” She doesn’t take
her eyes off Frank as she directs the paramedics and maintains the pressure on
the gauze pad covering his wound.
In twelve minutes
the paramedics have Frank stabilized, strapped to a gurney, and loaded into the
ambulance, waiting in front of the police station.
“OK, guys. Get
back to work,” a deep husky voice entering the cell says. “And put this kid in
another holding room.”
“OK, Captain,” an
eager officer says.
“Elliot, what’s
goin’ on?” Captain Aims says. “Frank’s been keeping me up to date with this
mess that you’ve gotten yourself into. And, now I hear he is on the way to the
hospital, and his rookie partner is the cause. So I walk in, and here you are.
I want answers now.”
Joanna interrupts.
“I don’t know about all the other incidents, but I can confirm that Chip’s
behavior had nothing to do with Elliot, and it was obvious he was helping
Frank.”
“Well, it’s
‘obvious’ that whatever you’ve stumbled onto is bigger than you expected,”
Captain Aims says. “Joanna, go over Frank and Chip’s reports for the last
couple of days and have Elliot fill in the blanks. Everywhere he goes, you be
there. I want answers.”
“Yes sir,” Joanna
replies as the captain storms out of the cell, just missing the arriving
paramedics dispatched for Chip.
“OK, Elliot, my
shift was over an hour ago, and I’m starving.” Joanna says after the paramedics
leave. “So buy me a hot dog from Joe’s stand and explain what’s been going on.”
“Yeah, sure. But
first we have to check the lab for a DNA test.”
“No need; I have
them on speed dial. I’ll call them on the way.”
Chapter
12: The Evidence
Beth lays the
newspaper clippings on her cherry desk top in two rows of four, from largest to
smallest. “Bring a chair over and read these clippings while I do a search on
Walter Freeman,” she says to Symphony.
“The lobotomist?
Man! That guy was whack,” Symphony says. “Imagine, paying someone to stick an
icepick in your eye for a less than fifty-percent chance of even being able to
take care of yourself when you woke up.”
“I’m certain it
was more professional than that.”
“No, not really,”
Symphony says in her usual monotone voice. “He would operate on victims in his
home office and then send them home in a cab.”
“How do you know
this?”
“When I was a kid
my parents felt it important I didn’t believe in fictional characters,”
Symphony answers. “Long story short, while most kids were afraid of the boogie
man, I had Walter Freeman to keep me up at night.”
“That’s terrible!”
Beth says, not taking her eyes off the computer.
“What bothered me
most.” Symphony pauses as she places one of the articles in her hand. “If that
was goin’ on publicly, what was goin’ on behind closed doors?” she asks. “I
don’t mean just Walter, but all over the world. As kids we’re afraid to go near
scary-looking people. But we had no problem with friendly, well-dressed people.
After seeing a picture of Walter Freeman, the lobotomist, I woke up.”
Symphony has
Beth’s undivided attention. This explains a lot. “So you’re saying the
people who appear like they have it together are the ones you’ve got to watch
out for, right?”
“Yeah, like Mrs.
Freedman.”
“She does have a
certain emotional detachment.” Beth swivels the monitor to show Symphony the
Wikipedia article on “Walter Freeman,” pointing to the blue hyperlink for lobotomy .
“At least this monster isn’t the guy we’re chasing. No wonder you’re so screwed
up.”
“Thanks, Doctor
Doyle. That’s
signs of life. “He’s breathing, Elliot. Stay calm. It will be OK.”
“Come on, Frank.
Don’t get lazy on me. You’ve got a lot of work to do.”
In eight minutes
paramedics arrive. “We were told you have a hostile for pickup,” one of them
says.
“Yeah,” Joanna
replies, “but he’ll have to wait. We’ve got a chest wound.” She doesn’t take
her eyes off Frank as she directs the paramedics and maintains the pressure on
the gauze pad covering his wound.
In twelve minutes
the paramedics have Frank stabilized, strapped to a gurney, and loaded into the
ambulance, waiting in front of the police station.
“OK, guys. Get
back to work,” a deep husky voice entering the cell says. “And put this kid in
another holding room.”
“OK, Captain,” an
eager officer says.
“Elliot, what’s
goin’ on?” Captain Aims says. “Frank’s been keeping me up to date with this
mess that you’ve gotten yourself into. And, now I hear he is on the way to the
hospital, and his rookie partner is the cause. So I walk in, and here you are.
I want answers now.”
Joanna interrupts.
“I don’t know about all the other incidents, but I can confirm that Chip’s
behavior had nothing to do with Elliot, and it was obvious he was helping
Frank.”
“Well, it’s
‘obvious’ that whatever you’ve stumbled onto is bigger than you expected,”
Captain Aims says. “Joanna, go over Frank and Chip’s reports for the last
couple of days and have Elliot fill in the blanks. Everywhere he goes, you be
there. I want answers.”
“Yes sir,” Joanna
replies as the captain storms out of the cell, just missing the arriving
paramedics dispatched for Chip.
“OK, Elliot, my
shift was over an hour ago, and I’m starving.” Joanna says after the paramedics
leave. “So buy me a hot dog from Joe’s stand and explain what’s been going on.”
“Yeah, sure. But
first we have to check the lab for a DNA test.”
“No need; I have
them on speed dial. I’ll call them on the way.”
Chapter
12: The Evidence
Beth lays the
newspaper clippings on her cherry desk top in two rows of four, from largest to
smallest. “Bring a chair over and read these clippings while I do a search on
Walter Freeman,” she says to Symphony.
“The lobotomist?
Man! That guy was whack,” Symphony says. “Imagine, paying someone to stick an
icepick in your eye for a less than fifty-percent chance of even being able to
take care of yourself when you woke up.”
“I’m certain it
was more professional than that.”
“No, not really,”
Symphony says in her usual monotone voice. “He would operate on victims in his
home office and then send them home in a cab.”
“How do you know
this?”
“When I was a kid
my parents felt it important I didn’t believe in fictional characters,”
Symphony answers. “Long story short, while most kids were afraid of the boogie
man, I had Walter Freeman to keep me up at night.”
“That’s terrible!”
Beth says, not taking her eyes off the computer.
“What bothered me
most.” Symphony pauses as she places one of the articles in her hand. “If that
was goin’ on publicly, what was goin’ on behind closed doors?” she asks. “I
don’t mean just Walter, but all over the world. As kids we’re afraid to go near
scary-looking people. But we had no problem with friendly, well-dressed people.
After seeing a picture of Walter Freeman, the lobotomist, I woke up.”
Symphony has
Beth’s undivided attention. This explains a lot. “So you’re saying the
people who appear like they have it together are the ones you’ve got to watch
out for, right?”
“Yeah, like Mrs.
Freedman.”
“She does have a
certain emotional detachment.” Beth swivels the monitor to show Symphony the
Wikipedia article on “Walter Freeman,” pointing to the blue hyperlink for lobotomy .
“At least this monster isn’t the guy we’re chasing. No wonder you’re so screwed
up.”
“Thanks, Doctor
Doyle. That’s
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