22

Rune Alignment

Chapter 6.

"It's not Clive, Bobby. I know it is not him," Gleason responded.

"Just tell me who he is," Bobby persisted.

Gleason looked back at his handkerchief she still held in her lap. Oh, God, what do I say, she wondered. It isn't Clive. Please don't let it be Clive, she thought. She began to shiver.

"Who is he?" Bobby said gently.

A shuddering sigh and then, "Clive and I were together for more than six years. It ended very badly and I came to America."

"So you were lovers. Why did you leave him?"

Another long pause, "I can't talk about this. Please Bobby. Trust me, Clive didn't make those calls. It has to be someone else." She couldn't look at him. No, no, no, no. The shiver became a tremble.

Goren stared at her, searching her face, her eyes. "What did he do to you? Tell me."

Her breath came in shallow gasps. Terror. Her stomach knotted as she recalled and began to relive the horrors in her mind. She was going to be sick.

"No, no. I can't. Please, I want to go home. Let me go home," she pleaded and started to rise. The trembling turned into a full-blown shake.

Goren felt her rising panic. "Alright, alright. I'll take you home." He stood with her, his hands on her arms. He wanted to embrace her, hold her close, kiss her, keep her safe. He could do none of that, not here.

She pushed him away, "No, no, no! Leave me alone."

"Gleason, please, it's not safe. Let me go with you," now he was pleading.

She took her purse and headed out the door, toward the elevators.

Goren knew better than to follow her.

Bobby sat in the conference room, for the first time not knowing what to do. Too many emotions coursed through his mind and heart. He couldn't grab a thread. His big picture brain was overwhelmed. This was unlike any other case. He could not detach from the host of emotional connections to this woman. A torrent of feelings streamed through his mind. Fear for her safety. The need to find who was doing this to her, to catch that person – this Clive – and remove him from her life, from their lives was nearly overpowering. Not just arrest him, destroy the caller, make him pay for what he had done to Gleason, and was now doing again.

Although Goren had only listened to one message, he was able to begin a profile. The voice on the phone was male, no accent – although it was almost impossible to tell with the nearly garbled sounds and gasps of air. Goren knew what that was. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, arms resting on the table, nearly sick to his stomach as he heard the voice again in his head, disgusting and dangerous.

The threats were real, detailed and made by an extremely angry individual. Gleason knew who this person was, he was sure of it. Her sobbing at the beginning of the interview indicated a subconscious realization that the threats were genuine. On some level, she recognized the behavior. Her mind told her the danger was familiar, but shielded her from consciously acknowledging it. It only occurred to Gleason who this person was as the questioning progressed. After eliminating all the possibilities, as the field of likely suspects narrowed, she became of aware who it could be; and it terrified her. Her reaction was typical of posttraumatic stress syndrome. The building terror, shivering escalating to shaking, shallow, rapid breathing, the flight response, it all indicated she had begun to re-experience whatever horrible ordeal she had lived. The thought of that possibility recurring was too much. So she fled.

Bobby figured Gleason had gone to her apartment, she was too fearful to go anywhere else. Her apartment was safe, familiar, a haven – the only place she really had besides her office. However, the university was now a minefield of potential danger. He had her cell phone and he knew she would be too afraid to answer her home phone. She might even unplug that phone so she would not hear it ring, would not know if the caller was trying to get to her again. She would stay inside, isolating herself from all possibilities, retreating.

He had to find whoever was threatening her. He would let nothing happen to her. Bobby knew she was different from every other woman the second Gleason walked through the conference room door the day before yesterday. Her beauty astounded him of course. More of her became apparent -- her voice, her confidence, her intelligence – as she presented her analysis of the relic. He knew there had never been another like her. He had been so afraid to ask her out.

Goren was well aware of his social limitations. It had always been hard to make friends, especially as a child. He was never quite sure how people would be, what they would say or do. Once that initial meeting was over, however, and if it went well, he was fine. Then he was confident and strong, a good friend. He learned young how to scope out people, determine if they were ok or not. As an adult, he learned that his awkwardness in social situations, his uncertainty, stemmed from his insecurity about how his mother would react when he'd get home from school, or wake up in the morning, or even minute to minute. His early life was like walking on thin ice, he never knew when his mom would crack, or what would cause it. His ability to read people became a gift on the job. On the job, at a scene, or interrogating a suspect, Goren could interview with finesse, no sign of uncertainty because nothing was at stake but the job. Work wasn't social, work was work.

He'd felt like a goofy kid trying to ask Gleason out, fumbling, trying to get the words out. But she understood, was kind, threw him a rope. Her smile, God. And she had even suggested the date! Coffee with her last night showed him additional delightful sides of her. She was funny; so smart about so many things. And so nice, just so nice, no pretense. He wanted to know more. Discover all the other things about her. He had to protect her. Find this crazy bastard and make her safe. He did not want to mess this up.

Immediately his plan of action took form in his mind. Goren knew exactly what to do, the sequence of tasks. He stood and left the conference room.

"Eames, we need to talk," Goren said as he stepped over his chair and sat across from his partner.

Eames looked up from the folders she was organizing, saw the pain on his face and said, "What's this all about? I tried to piece it together, but too many parts are missing for me. What's the story?"

Bobby filled in the gaps. He explained about the student Elliot and shared what he knew about this Clive fellow. Eames listened quietly, looked at those dark eyes, then asked, "You love her, don't you?"

"What?" Bobby exploded, he could not believe his ears. "Are you . . .? What does . . .? For God's sake, Eames . . ." He was incredulous. With volume rising, "Haven't you heard a word I've said? The woman is in danger. You heard what this guy said he'd do to her. He's crazy. Did you hear that voice? You know what he was doing? Why he sounded like that? He was masturbating!"