85
Designed Intent
Chapter 19
Thursday
The little boy watched his Gramma doze in her chair. She is dreaming, he thought. The child popped into the dream and saw Gramma being kind to his daddy's brother. Gramma loves the brother more than his daddy, the boy realized. The child didn't like this other man.
Frances Goren startled awake, not certain where she was. Oh, yes, still here. Same place, she thought. The little boy was delighted his Gramma was awake. "Hi Gramma," he whispered.
"Oh, my little sweet pea! No, no, your name is Chris, yes, Chris. And something else . . . oh, I cannot remember anything anymore."
"Tian. My mommy would call me Tian," he told her.
"That's right, Tian. What kind of name is that? Tian."
"I don't know."
Frances looked at the little boy and she reached to stroke his curls, but he was gone.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Doogan is not in any system," Eames told her partner. "He's quite reputable in his field, however."
Bobby looked up and nodded. He was writing furiously in his portfolio. "Here, look at this. I put together a timeline of sorts indicating when each of the forged books was purchased. Once that last collector comes back, we'll have a complete profile of all of the information. The way I figure, Doogan would make one fake every three years. Replicating period methods, working in his spare time . . . it could take about three years to complete one counterfeit."
"You mean, like some men build boats in a bottle, it takes a long time? He did this as a hobby?"
"This man is diligent. The forgeries are flawless, as is the providence for each book. The only thing that slipped him up was the technology that's available now. This other authenticator used radiation and chemical analysis to date the book and found out it was a fake."
"Let's go pick up Doogan for questioning," Eames suggested.
"Do we know where he is?"
"Let's check his house first. Then his office. I have a feeling he's going to lay low for a while. Let's go get him before he runs.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gleason met Willow walking toward the library for their meeting. They chatted about inconsequential events. Gleason saw Malcolm approach from her right. He nodded to the women as he walked in step with them.
The three took the escalator to the second floor and walked to the small conference room that Malcolm had reserved. Gleason and Willow both opened up their computers, plugged in and were ready to go. Malcolm set out three copies of the current draft. Neither he nor Gleason spoke directly to each other. Willow caught the cold silence between them.
Malcolm sat across from Gleason looking straight at her; she avoided his eyes. "Let's each read this through and make note of any thing that needs attention," Malcolm suggested.
"I've already made some notes," Gleason said to Willow.
"Then perhaps Willow and I can take a few minutes to read this, if you don't mind." Malcolm said steadily, looking at Gleason.
Willow looked from Gleason to Malcolm and saw abject animosity. What's going on between these two, she wondered. "I, uh, I already read it and made a few notes as well, Malcolm."
He swung his head toward the other woman and said, "Well, then since you two are ready to go, why don't we?"
For the next hour and a half, the trio revised and polished. They saved the final draft to Gleason's thumb drive and she said she would read with a critical eye. Willow had suggested that Gleason do the final read as she had two books in print and a third on the way.
The two women closed up their computers and the three prepared to leave. Willow opened the conference room door, stepped through, and turned to see if Gleason wanted to get some lunch. She saw Malcolm step in front of Gleason, preventing her from reaching the door. "Willow, thanks for your help. Gleason and I need to discuss something. Thanks." Willow looked at Gleason but saw that her friend was looking at the floor.
"Ok, thanks to you two as well. It's good that this is done. Gleason, I'll call you." Gleason ignored her and Willow left. Malcolm shut the door behind her and turned to face Gleason.
"We need to speak about this situation between us."
Gleason finally looked up at him but said nothing.
"Gleason, please. You know I have feelings for you. And I think you have feelings for me. I don't want this between us. Talk to me." He reached for her arm and she stepped away.
"Get out of my way."
"Gleason, please. Sit down, talk to me. Please."
"I said, get out of my way."
Malcolm looked at her deeply. "Please," he whispered.
She looked at him and was disgusted. "Move," and she stepped around him, opened the door and left.
Malcolm sat and knew he had done everything wrong. God, she is beautiful, he thought, so smart. He wanted that woman in the worst way.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gleason walked to the third bench along the footpath that led from the library toward Margrave Hall and her office. She sat, pulled her phone from her bag, hit speed dial one and listened to it ring.
"Honey, is everything all right?"
"Yes, yes, Love, I just wanted to hear your voice." She sat with her eyes closed. Oh, she loved him. "Are you busy?"
"No, are you sure you're ok?"
Gleason had to wait a second, she was afraid she was going to cry. "I miss you Bobby. That's all, I just miss you. I love you."
He heard the tears behind her voice. "Gleason, what's wrong? Honey?"
"Oh, Bobby, it's . . . ," she wanted to tell him about Malcolm not leaving her alone. Tell him, she said to herself, tell him! ". . . it's nothing. I'm just missing you a lot today."
Bobby did not believe this for a second. Something is bothering her. "Glea, do you feel all right?"
"Yes, Love, I'm fine. I'll be home tomorrow night. We'll have the weekend together."
"I love you, Sweetheart."
"I'm so lucky that you do."
"You're sure you are ok?"
"I am; I am. I'll call you tonight, ok? I love you."
"I love you, more. I'll talk with you tonight."
Gleason flipped shut her phone and continued on her way. Malcolm moved from the spot where he stood watching her talk on her cell; he knew exactly who she was talking with.
Bobby flipped shut his phone and worried about her. She wasn't telling him something. Something had happened. He would find out about it tonight. Or, this weekend.