The Son and the Sparrow

Chapter Forty(v3)

Chapter Forty

Leon walked back to his car, his mind blank. He couldn't let himself think of the corpse lying in the grass. He couldn't let himself recognize what he had just done. He simply walked, the moon at his back. He kept his hands in his pocket. The other held a bag where he stored his torture equipment. He'd dispose of them later. Right now he wasn't thinking straight. The road and his car came into view, and Leon strolled toward it. He didn't know what time it was. He didn't care. Fatigue itched the inside of his eyelids. He needed sleep.

Leon shivered. The cold was starting to get to him as the adrenaline wore off. He was tired. Cold. Mentally exhausted. Leon opened the door to his car, and sat in front of the wheel blankly. How far away was home? Could he make it? He was far more likely to fall asleep while driving home. He knew it wasn't a good idea. Leon rubbed his eyes, and yawned. He was so tired.

After a few moments of debating, Leon pulled the seat back, and closed his eyes. He hoped that in the morning things would be clearer.

Leon pulled up to Philip's house, and sat in the seat for a moment. It was early noon. Leon groaned to himself. He knew that spending the night anywhere close to a dead body was a horrible idea. He hadn't been thinking clearly. He had needed time to digest what he had done. Leon sighed, and touched the scar on his face. God, what had he done? He had thought that it would save Haley, but Michael's death had been pointless. He had been stupid, and rash, and had acted without thinking. Luckily, he didn't think the body would be discovered anytime soon, and even then it couldn't be connected to him. When they discovered Michael's meth habit, they would assume that he didn't pay up to some drug lord.

He had to put it out of his head if he wanted to retain his sanity. And that was exactly what he planned to do. What he did was the ultimate sin. A crime against humanity, and he would regret it forever. But concentrating on it wouldn't help what really mattered. Cale was still out there, and Leon was no closer to finding him than he was before.

So now what was the plan? He couldn't continue torturing people for information, and Joanna's technique had proved itself futile. So how the hell were they going to find him? Leon walked into the house, deep in thought. He needed a shower. He reeked of blood.

"Leon?"

Leon looked up to see Joanna in front of him with a concerned expression.

"I couldn't get him to talk." Leon sighed. "I just...I'm sorry. I don't think-"

"-Leon." She stared at him with haunting eyes, eyes betraying a bit of fear and perhaps pity. Suddenly Leon grasped that something was wrong.

"What..." It took him a couple of times to finish the sentence. His mind was racing, trying to figure out what could be wrong, yet at the same time blocking any sort of explanation. "What's wrong?"

"It's your wife Leon." Joanna uttered.

Leon felt a bolt of ice rip through him. "What?"

"It's Haley. She's..."

"She's what?" His voice verged on absolute panic.

"She's not well."

Leon stared at her in shock, waiting for her to continue. His mind couldn't manage to bring up any sort of thought. When she didn't respond, it spurred him to act. He tore down the hallway, heart beating, blood racing, and opened the door.