Marker of Faith

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 6

"Jesus, John." Chief Williamson crouched down next to him and put a hand on John's shoulder. "What in the hell happened here?"

He looked over at Roddy's blood-covered face, then down at Dave's corpse. The whole top of the head was gone; half the brain with it was the description overheard, and a lot of it on Rodriguez apparently. Not even any point in a hospital run; Dave made sure of that with a hollow point.

Some officer covered the shattered head with a jacket, both to mask the gore and offer Dave a final bit of dignity. It was against procedure, would screw up the CSU guys, but who cared? Right? Macken was DOA-- no bus, no fuss, but a shitload of witnessed muss. Williamson pinched his eyes closed and sighed. This was going to be bad for the department, no matter what. He brushed a hand through his neatly trimmed hair, and looked down at his highly polished dress shoes. He was crouching inches from a fresh puddle of Dave's brain matter, and he shifted his weight to avoid any contact.

"I'm waiting." Williamson used his 'official' voice to move things along as he stood up while surreptitiously checking his pant cuffs for any bloodstains.

John tried to speak but all that came out was a hoarse whisper. "He just pulled the trigger."

"Hey! You!" Williamson pointed at a young uniformed cop who was staring open-mouthed and wide-eyed at Dave's body. "Get me some God damned paper towels!"

Williamson's shout was like a slap in the face and the uniform ran off, returning quickly with a handful of fast-food napkins, which he thrust at the Chief with shaking hands. Williamson snatched them away and dropped them onto Rodriguez's lap. The M.E. scrubbed at his face to wipe away Dave's brain matter, but only managed to smear the burgundy and gray colored clots into his eyebrows and hairline. Williamson winced at the splotches, a nervous tic making his left eye twitch, and he looked away quickly to John.

"What do you mean? Detective Bergenson, Rodriguez! What went down here?"

"He just pulled the trigger." John repeated.

"You said that already. What precipitated that?" Williamson looked over at Dave's body and noticed a stick of unchewed gum stuck to the bottom of the dead detective's shoe.

A gumshoe.

Any other time the irony would have given him a chuckle. Instead he winced at the slow burn of stomach acid in his throat. He dreaded what the press would have to say about this.

Oh boy is this going be bad for the department.

Roddy cleared his throat and looked at the Chief.

"I don't know what happened. He was acting weird, kind of shell-shocked, I guess. The dead priest really got into his head." Roddy sneaked a glance at John then continued hesitantly. "He was spouting some crazy shit and then BLAM--" He smacked his hands together with a loud crack.

John put his hands over his face and looked at the chief through splayed, bloody fingers. "He just put the gun under his chin and pulled the fuckin' trigger!" A small sob escaped him and he rocked forward. "I shouldn't have left him alone like that...I should have seen it coming!"

Chief Williamson put his hand on John's arm and then pulled back quickly; it came away sticky with Dave's blood. He grabbed one of the stray napkins from Roddy and wiped his own hands in quick, jerky motions, then dropped the soiled paper at his feet. The chief sighed and nodded his head slowly.

"Get out of here, John. We'll take care of Dave." He signaled to two cops and they came over, nervously averting their eyes from Dave's body.

"Take Detective Bergenson home." Williamson cleared his throat and lowered his voice so only they could hear. "Just get him home and let him decompress. No stops."

"Yes, sir," both officers replied.

"Come on, Detective. Let's get you out of here. This is fucked up, sir. Wicked fucked up." The younger cop patted Bergenson on the back, but John ignored him.

"I should stay. Dave needs someone to take care of him. He doesn't have any family." John wobbled as he tried to stand.

"John, go home." Williamson stepped back as the other officer pulled John to his feet.

"But--"

"We've got him. You need to leave now and that's an order if you want. And John...." He paused. "Don't talk to anyone from the press."

Rodriguez was still sitting on the ground and he looked at the chief incredulously. "You are one cold son of a bitch!" Roddy mumbled.

"That's it? Don't talk to the press?" he sniped louder, but Williamson ignored him. Roddy put his hand out to one of the cops for a boost to his feet.

"What a dick," the cop whispered to Roddy with a glance at the Chief, who through small town politics was in charge of every level of the department. Unliked by many, but followed by all.

"I'm so sorry for this, hang in there," the M.E. called out to John as he was led to the police cruiser. "Shouldn't have happened, man."

John either didn't hear him or ignored him.

Williamson stared at the Medical Examiner. Is he going to fall apart, too? I don't need this shit today.

Roddy was still clutching the soiled napkins in his hand and he let them drop to the ground. A breeze kicked up and whipped one of the less-drenched papers away from his feet, towards the priest's body where it stuck on a rigored finger. Rodriguez's eyes followed its path, and then he gagged and began shaking as the aftermath of the day's adrenaline surge hit him.

Really? Willimason pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers briefly.

"Hey!" Williamson snapped his fingers. "Rodriguez, you need someone to cover for you?" His voice had a cold tone as he pulled out a cell phone. The M.E. didn't answer him.

"Seriously, you going to bail on me here?"

Roddy glared at him and took a deep breath. "I'm not usually around for the dying part, so you'll excuse me if I'm not in fine form right now."

"I'll call county and have them send someone out," Williamson retorted.

"Fine, yeah. You do that."

"I guess it's hard when you know the dead guy, eh?" Inwardly Williamson cringed. He didn't mean to sound like such an asshole right then, but everything was spinning out of control. Also Rodriguez was a know-it-all.

The two deaths were mixed now, an inexorable pile of paper work and phone calls awaited. He didn't have time to babysit a wiseass, who, unfortunately, was also very good at his job.

The chief watched Roddy struggling to maintain, to not loose his famed sarcasm, and gritted his teeth when the Medical Examiner glared and gave him the finger instead.

"Leave. Now." Williamson pointed towards the parking lot.

"Have the other bagger cart them down to the cooler," the M.E. said over his shoulder as he stalked off towards his van. "I'll meet him there."

Williamson reached over with the toe of his shoe and flicked the gum off of Dave's shoe.

"Fuck!" Williamson muttered as he pulled out his phone.