7

Intentional End

Chapter 10

Monday Afternoon
September 17

"Goren," Deakins called from his office door.

"Shut the door," Deakins leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. "Have a seat."

Bobby sat slouched back with his fingers tented in front of his lips and looked at his boss, waiting.

"Have you heard from Gleason?" Deakins asked.

Bobby shook his head.

"Have you done anything to find out where she is?"

Again, Bobby shook his head.

"Are you worried?"

"What do you think?" He wiped his eyes with the fingers of his left hand, sat up and straightened the crease in his trousers. He did not want to look at his boss.

"Have you talked with anyone at the University? Do they know where she is?"

"Why are you asking me this? Have you heard something? Do you know something?"

Deakins straightened and went to sit behind his desk and said nothing.

"Look, I have work to do. I want to keep busy. Are we done here?" Bobby stood and turned, reaching for the door.

"Sit down."

"What?"

"I said sit down." Deakins looked up at the other man.

Bobby did not recognize the man looking at him. He returned to the chair he had just vacated and asked, "What's going on?"

Deakins hesitated and seemed to struggle with what he had to say next. He rubbed his forehead then said, "Bobby, you have to stop looking for her. She'll be back when her work is done. Stop looking." The men stared at each other, then Deakins continued, "You've illegally used department access codes to search classified government files. And you did it from home! Are you completely out of your mind?"

Bobby was stunned. He had been very careful; no one knew he was looking, or so he thought. He spent the entire weekend online trying to find out anything he could about where Gleason might be, who had taken her, and had gotten nowhere. He even called two other friends who knew things and had helped Bobby in the past. But, as with Neil, they both refused to help. It seemed as though a layer of knowledge about the government existed to which Bobby was not privy. "How do you know this?"

Deakins closed his eyes and said softly, "They're watching."

Bobby stared at his boss, "Who is watching? What do you mean?"

"I shouldn't even be speaking to you about this. Just stop, whatever you are doing, stop."

Bobby was on his feet. "You know something, don't you? Tell me what you know! Where is she? Jesus, you have to tell me what you know." He began to pace, arms flailing, "Captain, I just lost my mother; I don't want to lose my wife, too." Bobby pleaded with his boss, got nothing and then his temper flared and he shouted, "Where is she? Tell me, goddamn it!"

Deakins was on his feet, "Shut up! Bobby, listen to me. She will be home when her work is done. This is out of anyone's control. Just be patient. Gleason is fine, she will return."

The pair stood, staring at each other, then Deakins said, "I want you to see Dr. Stephens again. I'll get you an appointment for this week."

"I don't need to see a shrink. I need to find Gleason," Bobby replied darkly.

"You listen to me, you are going to see Dr. Stephens and you are going to stop looking for Gleason. I swear to you, Bobby, I'm doing this for your own good and Gleason's; you have to stop looking for her."

Bobby wiped his face with his hands, shuddered a huge sigh and returned to his desk.

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September 17-21

Monday - Friday

Bobby grew more desperate as the days passed. He appeared to be losing weight; a dark circle hung under each eye, and his colour was off. He had stopped shaving every morning. Both Eames and Deakins knew he was drinking again.

He and Maeve spoke once since his visit. Neither knew anything new but they took comfort in each other's worry, Maeve more so than Bobby. Knowing that he was but a phone call away, and that he was trying to find her husband and his wife, gave her an abiding sense of security.

Deakins did get Bobby an appointment with Dr. Stephens, which he refused to keep. The captain and the psychiatrist discussed what was happening to him, but she could offer nothing that might help. She did say, however, that knowing Bobby from his previous sessions, she thought he would agree to see her again when he felt he needed to.

The dead pilot's case stalled as Brazil would not extradite the pilot's wife and no other suspects surfaced. In the meantime, Bobby and Eames provided an assist with a ring of passport forgers that provided a tremendous diversion for him. Eames and Peter seemed to be getting along. And no one had heard from Sledge.

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Tuesday

September 25

"Hello?"

"Maeve, it's Bobby Goren." He caught the caution in her tone.

"Yes?"

"Is everything all right?" He heard her hesitation.

"Yes."

He knew something had happened, he could hear it in her voice. "What's happened? Has someone spoken to you?"

"Bobby, we should not speak again. Thank you for all that you have done, but –."

He shut his eyes tight and breathed deeply, "Maeve, is Malcolm back?" Her silence marked her confirmation. "Maeve?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"When, when did he get back?"

"I can't . . ."

"Please, tell me when he got back."

"Four days ago."

What! Why . . .? "How? Did he just show up? How did he come back?"

"I, I don't want to talk to you anymore. I can't talk to you."

"Maeve, tell me – how did Malcolm get back? Did they drop him off? "

"I'm sorry, I cannot talk to you. Don't call again." Both were silent for a minute and then Maeve whispered, "They watch and they listen," and she hung up.

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Wednesday and Thursday

September 26 and 27

Bobby worked the dead pilot and the forged passport cases like a crazy man. He drove Eames nuts pursuing leads, interrogating suspects, interviewing anyone and everyone. He was ruthless with suspects, unrelenting during interviews and generally not very nice about any of it. He was short with everyone, especially Eames.

The pair had gone to interview the fellow who oversaw the day-to-day processing of expedited passport requests. Eames was leading the interview as she usually did while Bobby paced. The manager kept watching Bobby prowl like a caged animal and suggested that Bobby have a seat, as he was making the guy nervous. For whatever reason, this comment sent Bobby into a tirade about Federal employees being slovenly, overpaid idiots who were expert at only one thing – hiding the truth from honest, tax-paying, law-abiding citizens.

Eames was embarrassed and then irate. She apologized for her partner's less-than-professional behaviour and excused herself and him. Bobby strode ahead of her to the car. Inside the vehicle, she let him have it with both barrels and he gave it right back to her. They had never argued like that before.

Once in the deck at One Police Plaza, Eames parked the department SUV and turned to speak to Bobby, wanting to discuss what had happened, but he stepped from the vehicle and headed toward his own SUV. She watched him use his remote to open the car, get in and drive away.

It was obvious he was at the end of his rope. He was drinking, not sleeping, not eating and wound tighter than a spring.

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September 28 – 30

Friday - Sunday

Bobby called off the next day and spent the weekend drinking. He sat passed out in his chair when Estella showed up to clean on Saturday morning. She roused him and he screamed at her to leave. Estella fled in tears.

He thought he was losing his mind.

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Monday

October 1

Bobby was two hours late to work and he looked like hell. Eames ignored him when he dropped into his chair across from her.

"Alex," he started, somewhat contritely.

She got up and left.

He watched her walk away and rubbed both hands over his face. Then, he picked up the pink message slips sitting on his desk and read through them – no one he particularly wanted to speak with. He glanced at the boss through the glass wall and saw Deakins standing talking with someone; he couldn't see who as the man had his back to Bobby.

Deakins' eyes slid past the man and made contact and Bobby knew he was in deep shit. He was getting coffee when the fellow in Deakins' office left; it was that agent, Wycoff.

Deakins was waiting at Bobby's desk when he returned, cup to lips. "Bobby, I need to see you."

He set the cup on his desk, followed his boss into the office, and sat. Deakins shut the door and stood in front of his best detective, arms crossed.

"You are this close to a suspension," he leveled darkly.

Bobby looked down and away, moving his fingers to his lips.

"How many times have you been told to stop looking for Gleason? For chrissakes, Bobby, you used department access codes! You have abused any leniency you were due following your mother's passing. The Passport Office has filed a complaint against you and this department because of your outburst last week." Deakins moved to the chair beside Bobby. "Upstairs is getting tired of your escapades."

Bobby shot to his feet, "Escapades! Is that what you think this is? Escapades?" He turned and ran both hands over his head and down his neck. "Jesus Christ, I cannot believe this. My wife was abducted, I'm trying to find her and you tell me I'm looking at a suspension. What the fuck do you expect me to do? Huh? Sit on my ass and wait for her to be delivered back to me?" Bobby was loud and out of control.

Deakins watched Bobby stride around the room, only imagining what Bobby was going through; he didn't know if he would have acted any differently. Bobby paced with hands at his ears, elbows out. Finally, he stopped, put his hands over his face, stood quietly and then turned, "I just want her back. I'm going out of my mind." He continued, "I want her back. Help me. Help me find her."

Deakins stood and stepped to him, putting his hands on Bobby's upper arms. "I cannot help you. No one is going to help you find her. She will be back. Leave it alone."

Bobby looked at his boss and never felt so alone. He returned to his desk. He cleaned it off and left.

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