29
Rune Alignment
Chapter 9.
"I cannot believe you left this to-do list," Eames told her partner with a mix of anger and hurt in her voice.
Goren had returned to One Police Plaza prepared to work the two cases at once. He needed Eames' cooperation to get it all done.
"Yeah, it's a start. Listen, I need you to do a few more things. Where's Sledge?" Bobby asked without even looking at her. "I want to brief the two of you on what I've already done and what's next." Still not looking at his partner, he sat down at this desk and started stacking folders.
Sledge approached with two cups of coffee, handing one to Eames. "Well, lover boy is back." Bobby stopped moving folders, stopped moving completely. He stared at nothing for three heartbeats, rose slowly, turned and faced Sledge. Eames set down the cup and moved beside both men. Bobby leaned into Sledge's face and Sledge took a step back. Eames put a hand on both men's arms. Bobby's hands were fists of rock, his forearms steel rods, his face the color of liver. Eames saw him about to loose control and take a swing at Sledge.
"Knock it off, both of you!" she said sharply. "Bobby, sit down. Sledge, shut up. Good God, you two." It took a full minute for Bobby to uncurl his fists, his color lightened and he sat, forcing himself to breathe slowly.
"Look man, I didn't mean anything by it; it's just that, well. . ." Sledge tried to make peace.
"Just shut up, why don't you," Eames interjected. Sledge shrugged and pulled up an extra chair beside her. "Bobby, tell us what you have so far," she suggested.
Bobby shared what he knew and what he had done: Dr. Wintermantle was at home, was not responding to him, and would probably not respond to anyone who came to her door. She would stay there for the present; he gave them her address and car info. "You'll have to fill out the paperwork on the cell phone I took to her, and sign for it."
"What's the cell's number?" asked Sledge.
"You won't need it," Bobby answered without looking at the man.
"What do you mean, we won't need it? How are we supposed to contact her? Jerry has already started the redirect on her home line. We can't reach her that way. You said she won't answer the door. What do you want us to do, knock the door down, haul her ass down here, and take her into protective custody?"
Eames watched Bobby's face as he ran through every device in his power trying to grab for the fringe of control before he could say or do anything. She knew how much Bobby hated Sledge, and the feeling was mutual. This was never going to work.
"You won't be contacting her. I will," Bobby said slowly, steadily, darkly.
"Bobby, you are not working this. Give me the number, I'll call her. She'll talk to a woman," Eames rationalized.
"Nobody contacts her but me, understand? She's been terrorized. The fewer contacts she has, the better. I need to get her to trust me so she'll give me information about this Clive person. She needs protection. I was able to get into her building in under a minute. Anyone can get to her. No, I'm the only one to contact her." Bobby flipped open his portfolio and started to write.
"This is bullshit," Sledge grumbled and started to rise.
"Have you listened to the calls?" Bobby asked Sledge.
"No, I was gonna do that later."
"Do it now. Then tell me this is bullshit." Bobby slid the phone to Sledge. "It should take about half an hour." Sledge took the phone and walked away.
"What else do we need to do?" Eames asked.
"What have you done so far?"
He walked to the corner, stood and lit a cigarette. He had seen the green SUV come and then leave. The man had been big, strong, confident. He looked like a copper, acted like a copper. The fellow had gotten inside the building quick enough; but she hadn't buzzed him in. No, the big cop had had to use clever cop talk to get inside; once in, he'd been upstairs fewer than ten minutes. She would not have let him inside her apartment. No, no, Gleason was afraid now, so afraid. He loved when she was afraid – the crystal look of her eyes, the transparent color of her skin. The smell she emitted. Her fear was so sweet yet tangy. He longed to lick her fear. Taste her. He began to harden and unknowingly groaned aloud. He heard himself, caught himself, not here, not on the street, no, no; later, later he would indulge.
Gleason's ribs and whole abdomen ached from dry heaves. She had nothing left to vomit, but her body didn't know, didn't care. Her head pounded with every heart beat. Her mouth was so dry. She couldn't stop shivering, couldn't get warm. She lay down on the couch. . .
"Honey, where are you?" he shook the umbrella closed as he entered the flat. "Are you home? I've brought you something."
Gleason froze when she heard him come in. Thunder seemed to announce the coming doom. She covered her mouth with both hands to smother the mewling. Don't be afraid, don't be afraid. He won't do it if you're not afraid. Pretend everything is normal.
The knob turned on the bedroom door, "Here you are! You are not hiding, are you love? What a pretty blouse, is it new? The color is just right for you. Why don't you slip it off for now? I have something for you." He held out a small bag and continued, his voice darkening, "Take it off. Do it! Take that goddamn rag off your back." He moved behind her, grabbed the blouse by the neck and ripped the shirt from her body. He did the same with her camisole and she stood naked from the waist up.
"Please, don't," she begged, shaking uncontrollably. He opened the bag and removed a small, flat green bottle.
"You stupid bitch; think you're so pretty, so smart, think you can do anything? You think you know so much. You can't do this, you can't stop me. You are mine. No one will want you. No one will think you are so smart. You'll have to stay with me, no one will want you." He grabbed her by the hair and threw her face down on the bed. He straddled her bottom, opened the small bottle, withdrew the swab and said, "Now, let's connect the dots."
Gleason shot up with a scream, gasping for air. She scanned the room and realized she had fallen asleep. She was in her flat, in New York. Her back burned, prickly pain. But she was safe, it was only a dream. Only a dream, thank God. No! Not safe. Clive had found her.