Part 37
Margaret Ryan leaned over the sink and splashed some water on her face. After patting dry with a paper towel from the dispenser, she studied her reflection in the mirror. Red rimmed eyes with dark circles underneath stared back. Worry lines were etched deep in her forehead, partially hidden by a few wisps of gray bangs. She noted that her complexion was more pale than normal, partially from exhaustion, but mostly from her husband's revelations. Alone in the ladies' room, she spoke her thoughts out loud. "You can't let Tom see you looking like this, old girl. Let's see if we can work a little magic for him, shall we?"
She reached into her purse for a small makeup bag, replaying the last time Tom had awakened in her mind as she set to work. As she applied some powder to her face, she savored the memory of the smile in his expressive hazel eyes. Margaret then pulled out a tube of lipstick and the scene inside her head moved on. Applying the color to her upper lip, she remembered comforting her son, and how well he initially responded to her. Lyam's hurt and angry expression as he spoke to their son froze the mental movie. She stopped suddenly, lipstick suspended just in front of her bottom lip, as realization came. "Oh, Lyam. You don't have any idea what you've done, do you?" Tears welled, but she quickly cut them off. "No. There will be time for tears later." With renewed determination, she finished her makeup and prepared to face her husband.
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Lyam anxiously checked his watch and resumed his nervous pacing. It had only been ten minutes since his wife had disappeared into the ladies' room, but those ten minutes seemed to have lasted an hour. After completing several more circuits of the hallway, he was relieved to see her finally reemerge. As he moved toward her, he marveled at how calm and collected she appeared.
As Lyam reached her side, Margaret wasted no time in making her intentions clear. "I'm going back upstairs to see Tommy. He should be waking anytime and I intend to be there when he does."
He held out his hand and nodded in agreement. "You'll get no argument from me. Let's go."
Margaret hesitated and looked at the floor. She knew her words were going to hurt, but she also knew they had to be said. "No, Lyam. I don't think you should see him right now."
The stunned father couldn't believe his ears. "What? I must not have heard you right. Of course I'm going with you to see him."
Margaret moved closer to him and placed her hands on his shoulders as she explained. "No, dear heart. I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that." Before he could protest, she pressed a finger to his lips and continued. "Just hear me out before you say anything, please?" At his reluctant nod, she cautiously shared her revelation of moments earlier. "I know that you would never, ever intentionally do anything to hurt Tommy." Lyam again nodded and she continued the explanation. "While I was freshening up, I was thinking about the last time Tommy woke up and how he stayed calm for a little while before he started fighting the respirator again. That's when it hit me. I realized that he wasn’t fighting the respirator until he saw you--until he saw all that pain and anger in your eyes."
Unable to accept the truth, he angrily pulled away and offered an alternative explanation. "No, that's not it! That can't be it! No, he probably just got confused from all the drugs they've been pumping into him and thought I was…someone else. Now stop this nonsense and let's go see our son."
Margaret stood firm and ignored his outstretched hand. "Okay, let's say your explanation is the right one. How can we be sure that he won't have the same reaction again? He's still being given all those same drugs. And what if my explanation is true? Either way, do you really want to risk putting him through that again? The one thing we do know is that he's going to come off the respirator in a few hours. Our reaction to this is the last thing he needs to deal with when that time comes."
Seeing Lyam's anger had begun to subside, she moved closer and embraced him before pressing on. "Please, Lyam, use this time. Take a walk, go for a drive, or go back to his apartment and cook up a storm, but don't come back to see him until you've dealt with your feelings--or at least until you can hide them from him."
Pulling away just enough to see into his eyes, Margaret presented her final point. "We both know you are the one he turns to when something devastating or traumatic happens. Just as he did when his football career and marriage ended, he'll need you more than anyone else to be there for him when he's strong enough to begin dealing with this. I can be here for him now, so let me do this while you get your head together. You won't be able to help him deal with his feelings if your own keep getting in the way."
Lyam leaned forward and gently kissed her. "One of these days I'm going to figure out how you do that."
"Do what?"
He playfully swiped a finger down the bridge of her nose. "Manage to be right all the damn time." Quickly turning serious again, he guided her toward the elevators. "Come on, I'll walk you to the ICU before I go."
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Harry anxiously scanned the bungalow for any signs of trouble. He strained to hear any noise indicating his officers inside had encountered any resistance as he waited for the initial sweep of the premises to be completed. His heart jumped when Cassy finally appeared on the front porch, but his hopes of finding the elusive Gordon Leonard were quickly dashed as Cassy shook her head.
Quickly crossing the street, Harry found a knot beginning to form in his stomach as he drew close enough to get a clear look at Cassy's face. "What? What did you find in there?" he demanded.
Cassy stared into space for a moment before responding, trying to come up with a way to describe the scene inside. "Come on, I'll show you." Not waiting for an answer, she turned and disappeared through the front door, the captain right on her heels.
Once inside, Harry observed his officers going through the cozy living room with a fine-tooth comb. A large stone fireplace took up most of the wall to his left. Cherry wood shelves lined each side of the doorway to the dining room straight ahead. He followed Cassy as she headed to the right and down a hallway. Glancing through a door on his right, the captain noted more officers going through what appeared to be the master bedroom. At the end of the hallway, Cassy paused in front of a door on her left and waited for Harry to catch up.
"It's in here," she grimly announced as she swept her arm out toward the room.
Harry nodded and preceded her into the room. "Oh my God," he gasped as he took in the scene before him. A large antique dresser sat against the wall just inside the door. It was covered in framed photos of Tom Ryan, with a large 18 x 20-inch close-up of the detective hanging in place of the mirror. Candles of all shapes and sizes were interspersed among the pictures, creating an almost altar-like setting. The bed was placed at an odd angle in the middle of the room, facing a windowless wall--a wall covered nearly from floor to ceiling with more photos of Tom.
Harry stared at the photo-covered wall in shock. His eyes slowly moved from picture to picture, his anger at the intrusion into Tom's life building with each photo he took in. There were shots of Tom at various crime scenes, of him eating lunch, sipping a soda, getting into his car, doing his laundry at the Laundromat, and taking his morning run. The majority of the photos had obviously been trimmed to cut out anyone other than Tom. A sick feeling swept over the captain as he came to a series of pictures of his detective out on various dates. These had not been cropped and each woman's face had been circled and marked with a red "X".
His queasiness intensified as his eyes traveled to the dead center of the wall. There he found photos of Tom that had obviously been taken through the window of the detective's apartment. There were pictures of him wearing nothing but a towel and clearly fresh out of the shower, running to catch the phone from what Harry could tell. There were photos of him sound asleep in bed, sometimes alone and sometimes not, though these photos had been trimmed. Harry was relieved to see that there were no photos of Tom and his dates in the midst of the lovemaking that had obviously occurred before falling asleep. Still it was apparent that Leonard had intruded on virtually every aspect of Tom Ryan's life, clearly showing the exact depth of the man's obsession with the detective.
Shaken, Harry turned and started back to the hallway. He managed to find a steady voice and began to bark out his orders. "I want pictures of all this before you take it into evidence. I want this entire house turned upside down and inside out. Find me something that will tell us where Gordon Leonard is hiding, people."
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Cassy St. John was beyond exhausted, but she had to make this one last stop before heading home for some much-needed rest. It had been nearly fifteen hours since the detective had stormed out of the hospital after arguing with Harry. She just had to see Tom was all right before she could allow herself to sleep. She stepped off the elevator and made her way to the ICU. The only nurse at the desk had her back to Cassy, so she quietly sneaked past and headed for Tom's room.
As Cassy located Tom's door, she froze in her tracks and quickly retrieved the gun from her purse. Scanning the hallway in both directions, she could find no sign of the guard. Pressing herself close to the wall, she cautiously crept toward Tom's room. Fear knotted her stomach as she arrived at the door. Dead silence met her ears as she paused to listen. There were no sounds coming from the room--no whoosh of the respirator as it breathed for Tom and no steady beeping of the heart monitors. Gun ready, she took a deep breath and entered the room.
End part 37
To Part 38
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