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Designed Intent

Chapter 30

Thursday Morning

"I was just about to call you," Eames hissed at him as he shrugged out of his coat. It was the fourth day in a row he was late. "Deakins is livid and he wants to see you." Eames noticed how bad Bobby looked this morning – again. "Are you all right?"

Bobby hung up his coat, ignored her question and walked to Deakins office. He knocked and the boss waved him in. Bobby shut the door, took a seat, slouching back, and said, "You wanted to see me?"

Deakins came around the desk and said, "I want to know what the hell is going on with you," he said, his anger barely under control.

Bobby looked up at the Captain and didn't care that he was about to get his ass chewed. "What do you mean?"

"Don't screw with me; you've been late every morning this week. You look like shit. Are you drinking again?"

Bobby looked away and fingers of his left hand stretched over his lips. Deakins waited for him to respond. When it didn't come, Deakins said softly, "Dr. Stephens called me this morning and wanted to know if everything was all right with you. Why did you cancel your appointment with her yesterday?"

Bobby remained silent, avoiding his boss's eyes. Deakins figured Gleason was a part of his current state. "Bobby, what's going on?" He watched his best detective say nothing. "Is Gleason all right?"

"I don't need to explain anything to you. Are we done?"

"No, we are not done and yes, you do need to explain yourself. Whatever is going on in your personal life is affecting your ability to do your job. Showing up late four days in a row and canceling a session with your mandated psychiatrist constitutes dereliction and negligence. Now, tell me what is going on. Have you been drinking?"

Bobby's eyes swung and met Deakins' eyes, "So what if I have been?"

"Why?"

"It's none of your business," and he looked away.

"Yes it is, Bobby, it's affecting your work. Why are you drinking?"

Bobby did not want to go into it with his boss. He did not want to say that it was over between him and Gleason. He did not want to say that he had caused their break up. He did not want to say that he had paid a woman for sex and would probably do so again. He did not want to talk about the lousy man he had become. He hated himself and did not want to talk about any of it.

"Can I go back to work now?"

Deakins wasn't sure what was going on but he was getting damn tired of the Goren crises. "Dr. Stephens wants to see you at one."

Bobby looked sharply at the Captain and asked, "What? Today?"

"Yes, she's coming here. Be prepared to stay several hours."

Bobby stood and said, "I've got work to do."

"Sit down and listen to me." Bobby turned with his hand on the door handle. "I do not want to suspend you again, but I will if I have to. You are going to get help whether you like it or not. Do you understand me?"

Bobby's shoulders slouched, his left hand wiped over his face and he said with tremendous resignation, "Look, I'll go next Wednesday. I'll be on time from now on. Nothing will interfere with my work. Now can I go?"

"Sit your ass down and listen to me." When Bobby glared back, Deakins said, "I'm not telling you again."

Bobby returned to his seat, slouched back, laid his right ankle over his left knee and tented his fingers in front of his lips. He looked like a recalcitrant middle school student sitting in the principal's office.

"Dr. Stephens will be here at one. You will meet with her and tell her whatever she wants to know. You will do whatever she wants you to do. I will not put up with your drama any longer. I need you to do the job you were hired to do. Do you understand me?"

Bobby knew Deakins was right. He knew that if he didn't get help, he was going to end up like his father and sorry-ass brother. He glanced at his boss and held up his open hands, palms out. "Ok, ok. I'll talk with her."

"Good. Now get back to work. I told your partner you are not to leave today; now I'm telling you."

Bobby nodded and stood. Deakins walked back around his desk and picked up the phone. Bobby crossed to his desk and dropped into his chair.

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Gleason woke feeling sluggish. She had to sit on the edge of the bed before she trusted her legs to get her to the bathroom. Something is wrong, she said to herself, something is wrong with me. She knew she wasn't pregnant as she took that pill religiously. Besides, she didn't feel the same as she had when. . . That memory was pushed aside and she considered the other possibility – her heart. I don't have time for that, she said to herself.

The shower ran over her back and she thought of Bobby. Why has he not called me? She wanted to hear his voice, hear him say he loved her. She wanted them to be as they once were. Call him, she told herself, just call him.

Malcolm was coming for dinner tonight. Why had she invited him, she wondered. Because she could no longer love Bobby, it was too hard to love Bobby. All they did was fight. Malcolm wanted her; she knew that.

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The nurse recorded Mrs. Goren's blood pressure, checked her catheter and the IV site on the back of her hand, adjusted the saline drip that kept Frances hydrated and straightened the covers. "Sleep peacefully, nice lady," the nurse said before she left.

Christian sat cross-legged in his Gramma's chair, watching the nurse look after his Gramma. The child was anxious for her to wake up. His daddy and mommy were sad and mad at each other and they were getting into trouble. Christian knew his daddy had done something bad, but he wasn't sure what it was. Last night, his daddy had played with another lady who was not his mommy. His daddy liked playing with that lady a lot because she made him feel really, really good; but after they played, his daddy didn't like that he had played with her. His daddy was full of darkness.

Christian knew his mommy was sick and he worried about her. She always made his daddy sad and always made his daddy mad at her and Christian didn't like that, but he worried about her anyway. His mommy was going to play with another man tonight, a man who was not his daddy. His mommy was full of grayness.

The little boy sat in the chair and fretted. Wake up, Gramma, wake up.

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"We got a hit on that necklace," Eames said as she hung up the phone, "That was Al Marzullo, manager of the Ready-Cash Pawn on Twenty-sixth and Christopher. Someone showed up with a Polaroid of it asking about approximate worth. He recognized it from the alert and called."

"Did you tell him to pull the security video?" Bobby answered.

"Yes, I told him" she replied with scorn. "I'm going to head over there." Neither said anything else, knowing that Bobby was stuck inside again. He didn't really care; Eames was better at the initial interviews anyway. Eames slipped on her coat and headed out without another word.

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"Should I get a red or a white? Which do you prefer?" Malcolm asked as he fell into step with Gleason as she walked from Margrave to her second class. "I'm really looking forward to this, tonight."

Gleason was looking forward to it as well. It would be nice to have an evening with a man and not be worried about launching into an argument. "How does pork chops with vegetables and a fruited tart for dessert sound?" she replied with a smile.

"And who might be that fruited tart?" he asked ginning, casually setting his hand on the middle of her back.

She liked the feel of his hand on her back; she was looking forward to tonight.

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Thursday afternoon

Bobby saw Dr. Stephens turn the corner from the elevators and head for the bullpen. Shit, he thought. He rose to greet her with his hand out, "Dr. Stephens."

"Detective." She was shocked at his appearance. He's been drinking she said to herself. This is not good, not good at all. "I'm going to speak with Captain Deakins and then you and I will talk."

Bobby nodded and Dr. Stephens walked to Deakins' office. "Captain," she said as he greeted her at the door. "Dr. Stephens, thank you for making the trip. I'm sorry you had to do this. Come in, please, have a seat. Can I get you anything?"

"No, no thank you." They settled in and Dr. Stephens began. "He looks terrible. What's going on with him?"

"That's what I need you to find out. I am sure he's drinking again; but I have no idea why."

"Has he said anything at all? About his mother or Gleason?"

"No, nothing."

"When did this start?"

"He's been late every morning this week; by as much as ninety minutes. That's very unlike him."

"Has his work suffered, aside from the tardiness?"

"That's the thing, he's still doing the work, albeit slowly. His partner says he's holding his own. It's his attitude, I suppose, that's concerning me. And his health. He's not sleeping, and the drinking isn't good for him. This is going to affect his work at some point. I fear he's going to break one of these days."

"Well, I'll talk with him and see what I can find out." Deakins and the doctor stood and walked to Bobby's desk.

Deakins looked at Bobby and said, "You and Dr. Stephens can use IR 3 for as long as you need." Bobby glared back at him and Deakins continued, "I don't have to worry about you cooperating, do I?"

Bobby stood, threw his pen onto the desk and headed toward the interrogation room. Dr. Stephens and Deakins glanced at each other and she followed the tall man down the hall.

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