127

Designed Intent

Chapter 27

Tuesday

Eames looked at her partner and knew something wasn't right. Bobby was late again this morning by nearly an hour and he was looking worse. He hadn't shaved and the circles under his eyes were raccoon-like. Even Deakins had noticed.

"What's going on with him?" he had asked Eames as Bobby shuffled to the coffee room.

"I have no idea." Eames did not want to mention that Bobby had been late again this morning; Deakins did not know about yesterday and he didn't need to know about today.

"Is he holding his own?"

"Yeah, sure, he's been quiet, but . . . yeah, he's ok."

Deakins knew Alex would protect her partner as best she could. "If you think something is up, you let me know."

Eames nodded and Deakins walked away. Bobby returned and dropped heavily into his chair. She looked at him and asked tentatively, "So, how's Gleason been?"

He ignored her.

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Her class was on a short break and Gleason was exhausted. She looked at her phone to see if Bobby had called, he hadn't. She wanted to call him, but knew she wouldn't.

She wondered where Malcolm was, she hadn't seen him at all today.

The students reassembled and her class resumed.

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Tuesday Afternoon

"Are you heading out?" Eames asked.

"Huh?"

"Are you heading out?" It was four-fifteen and things had pretty much stalled on both cases.

"Uh, yeah, in a bit. Tomorrow I want to find out more about the antique necklace taken in the jewelry heist. Silverthorne, the owner, is suddenly not cooperating. You talked to him; do you think he's withholding anything?"

Eames slipped on her coat and replied, "Silverthorne is an eccentric old man. It's hard to tell what he is doing."

"But what's your impression?"

"Bobby, this case has gone cold. Let it go. We have those counterfeit books to work."

"Yeah, I know, I know."

Eames looked at him and worried a wee bit. "Listen, do you want to go get a drink or something?"

"Uh, no, thanks. I've got an appoin–, no, not tonight." He closed up his desk and shrugged on his coat."

"Ok, I'll see you in the morning." He didn't respond. Eames headed out ahead of him.

Bobby looked at his watch; her afternoon class would be over in about an hour.

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Gleason was walking to her office from her first class and saw Malcolm heading toward her. She quickened her steps.

"Well, hello," she said as they met, smiling broadly, "I haven't seen you around."

Malcolm looked at this beautiful woman and his mind raced with confusion. God, she is beautiful, he thought, and she's being so friendly. He had stayed the weekend with his wife and son – and it had been wonderful. He wanted his family back and he wanted the woman in front of him, too.

"I've been pretty busy these past few days. How was your weekend?"

Gleason glanced away at the mention of her time with Bobby, glanced back at Malcolm and said, "Would you like to have dinner Thursday night?"

Malcolm was shocked, then ecstatic, then confused. "Uh, yes. Yes, Gleason, that would be wonderful. What do you have in mind?"

Oh, she thought, do not do this; but she pushed that away and said, "Why don't you come to my place at seven. I'll prepare us something. You bring the wine, ok?"

Malcolm felt himself twitch in his trousers. He smiled and put his hand on her upper arm and squeezed gently.

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Early Tuesday Evening

Bobby drove to his appointment with his mother's psychiatrist from One Police Plaza north to Carmel Ridge, about thirty-five minutes away. He thought about his mother and he thought about Gleason, he was losing both of these women and it was killing him.

"Mom," Bobby looked at his mother curled up in her bed. She looked asleep; he knew she was not. She was semiconscious and completely without affect. He pulled up the side chair and sat back, putting his right ankle over his left knee. With his fingers tented against his lips, Bobby looked at her. A shell, she is a shell, he thought. Gleason had looked just like this after the miscarriage. His mother and his love, the only things that mattered to him, his only reasons to live.

"Hey, Bobby, how are ya? Good to see you. Your mom still sleepin'? Yeah, she's gonna be asleep for a while yet. That always happens when she flips out like that, don't it? Too bad that happens. She's a nice lady, your ma. I got lucky to have her as a roomy, ya know? Coulda wound up with a real wacko like that Miss Coarsen down the hall. God ain't she one? Moanin' all the time, crying all the time. God, I could not put up with that one. Your ma, though, a sweetheart. Yep, a real sweetheart."

Bobby wiped his hand over his face and tried to smile at Sylvia, his mother's roommate. Apparently, Sylvia was manic at this time. Sylvia was bipolar and did not respond to any medication. Her family placed her here to keep her safe. She would talk nonstop until he left. He would have to take a walk in a bit, just to stop the endless talk.

"Mr. Goren," Dr. Shinto came up behind and beside Bobby's chair and Bobby rose and turned.

"Dr. Shinto," the men shook hands. Sylvia kept on talking to Bobby and then noticed the psychiatrist.

"Hey, Doc, how are ya? Good to see you. You still workin' here? Yeah, I guess you are. I got to tell ya . . ."

"Let's find a quiet place, shall we?" Dr. Shinto said to Bobby. They left and Sylvia kept talking.

Dr. Shinto led Bobby to his office and shut the door. He gestured to a chair and went to his desk. The doctor picked up Frances Goren's file and opened it, flipping a few pages.

Bobby leaned forward and said, "Dr. Shinto, what happened to her? What caused this break? She was doing so well."

"As I told you on the phone, Mr. Goren, your mother was on the verge of a tremendous breakthrough. Unfortunately, as I feared, her perception of the hallucination corrupted and she devolved."

Bobby listened and then asked, "Why did it corrupt? You had said this hallucination gave her pleasure. What happened? Why did it upset her?"

Dr. Shinto did not know. Mrs. Goren had never had a dual source hallucination before this. The fact that she suddenly heard and saw a new person, a child nonetheless, was odd in itself.

"I do not know, Mr. Goren. Perhaps you can help us track the source of this hallucination. Most hallucinations have a root in reality. What young children are members of your family?"

"There are none. Frank has no children that I know of. Gleason and I have no children." Bobby looked down and shook his head. The miscarriage crossed his mind. No, it couldn't be. He had not told his mother about it. It couldn't be. No. No.

"What are you thinking, Mr. Goren?" Dr. Shinto had watched the other man process, his face a screen displaying a fleet of anxious thoughts.

Bobby looked up surprised, "I'm sorry?"

"You were considering a possibility. What is it?"

"Uhm, well, the, the way Mom described that little boy – dark curly hair, dark red in the sunlight, the blue eyes – well, Gleason and I, we, uh, that sounds like what a child of ours might look like." Bobby said all of this looking at the floor and then looked at the good doctor.

Dr. Shinto thought about this, he could see that. "Now that you mention it, I can where her visitor might look like your child." He continued to think and then said, "Perhaps this hallucination is a manifestation of a tremendous desire for a grandchild."

Bobby wanted to tell the doctor the rest, the parts about the child having Gleason's father's name and about the miscarriage. "Doctor, I need to tell you two more things."

Dr. Shinto leaned in, listening carefully, "Yes?"

"Gleason had a miscarriage three months ago. She was three months pregnant."

"I am sorry. What do you --,"

Bobby closed his eyes and held up two hands to stop the doctor from continuing, "Let me finish. My mother said the child's name is Christian." Bobby looked straight at the doctor and continued, "Christian is Gleason's father's name."

Dr. Shinto had heard and seen many odd, weird, even spooky things in his work; but this, this actually gave him a chill.

"My mother does not know about the miscarriage. She does not know Gleason's father's name."

The men stared at each other. Finally, Dr. Shinto stood up and came from around his desk. "I do not know what to say, Mr. Goren."

"I don't know what to think, Doctor."

The men were quiet for a long moment. Then Dr. Shinto offered, "Your mother naming the child with Gleason's father's name may be nothing more than a coincidence. The fact that this manifestation began following a loved one's miscarriage, may be nothing at all; especially since she has no knowledge of that event.

"Mr. Goren, I am thinking that this hallucination may be the result of an overpowering desire for a grandchild. It manifested after she met Gleason. Perhaps, in her mind, your mother sees the two of you as married, giving her the grandchild she wants so badly. Since she does not have one, she made up one. Like some children have an invisible friend."

Bobby thought about this. "So, maybe it's not even a real hallucination, maybe it's a child she just made up?" The hope was obvious in his voice.

"It is a possibility, Mr. Goren. However, let us consider everything. If the child was truly in her imagination and not a hallucination, why then did she break? A challenge concerning an imaginary friend would not result in such a traumatic climax. Challenging a hallucination, could; and did."

Bobby stood up. "So what do we do? What happens next?"

"We will wait for her to emerge from this stupor. We will observe her constantly, watching for and recording each manifestation. Then we will plan our sessions carefully to find out what we can." Dr. Shinto knew this was not enough for the tall son. "That is all I can offer at this point, Mr. Goren."

"What can I do? Anything?"

"You can go be the good son that you have always been. Sit with her, talk with her. But do not bring up the hallucination. Talk with her."

Bobby ran his hand down the back of his head and neck. "Thank you, doctor. I'm going to sit with her for a while. Thank you." The men shook hands and Bobby returned to his mother's room.

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