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Designed Intent

Chapter 40

Saturday Morning

"Deakins called and wants us to debrief him at the office," Eames said flatly, as Bobby walked up. He nodded and they headed to the vehicle.

Again, they rode in silence until Bobby said, "I, I'm sorry about that back there. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that." He glanced over at his partner and saw her head tilt and shake sadly.

Eames answered with, "Sure." They rode in silence once more. Bobby stared at the golden glow spreading over and behind the buildings as Saturday dawned in earnest.

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Gleason was dressing when she heard the front door open. She stepped into the hallway, expecting to see Bobby.

"Mitter Bobby? Mitter Bobby, you here?" Estella shut the door behind her and set her bag and jacket on Bobby's chair. She was hoping he was not at home, as she didn't want to have to face him after finding his little treasure in the handkerchief last weekend. At least the apartment wasn't a wreck as it had been the last time she was here. So, he's cleaned up his act, has he?

"Estella, hello," Gleason said.

"Oh! Desus Krite! Mitter Bobby Lady, you scairt me! Desus!" Estella put a hand to her chest, shut her eyes and then crossed herself.

"I'm so sorry! Oh, Estella, are you all right?" Gleason smiled slightly at the drama.

"Yet, yet. I ok. You home dit weekend? Dat nice. Mitter Bobby, he mitt you so much. He lub you, you know? He lub you a lot. You know he lub you? Right? He do lub you. You not bin home in long time. You bin busy, huh? Teaching college is big work. Still, Mitter Bobby, he mitt you. You need to come home more.

"He sad, lots of time. He drink too much cause he miss you. He gonna get chubby wif all that drink. An sick. He drink too much. You need to come home more. You donne want him chubby, huh?" Estella smiled somewhat sadly at the lovely lady. She moved to the kitchen while she spoke and took the pail from under the sink, filling it with hot water.

Gleason listened as she sat on the sofa, putting on her sneakers and tying them, wondering what had gotten into Estella – going on like that. She stood and said, "Estella, is there anything you want me to help you with before I go out?"

"Where id Mitter Bobby? He seepin'?"

"No, no. He was called out early this morning. He'll be home at some point today. Did Bobby send you the check for this month?"

"Yet. He always pay me good. Witt all my other people would pay like he do. Ok, you be careful. Buy him some good stuff. No more drink, doe. He drink too much."

"Thanks, Estella." Gleason pulled on her jacket and set out. She wondered what Estella meant with 'he drinks too much?' Gleason dug her keys from her bag and walked to the car.

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"Are they related?" Deakins asked the exhausted pair. Eames sat and Bobby stood by the door.

"Yeah, same head wound, same ligature marks, and same taco chip smell on the hands. I'd say they are related."

"You agree Eames?"

She looked up and said, "Yes, they are related. The timeline is interesting, though – three bodies over ten hours. The ME will be able to determine the precise order and timeframe."

"What's your theory?" Deakins asked Bobby.

"The doer is cleaning house. The three vics and the doer may have been together at a bar or a party; maybe just sharing a bag. The, uh, the taco chip smell puts all three vics at the same place."

"Well, there hasn't been another, so maybe he's done. Finish your paperwork on these three, mark them open and then go home. Get some sleep."

Eames stood and moved to the door; Bobby opened it and followed her to their desks. She fired up her computer and accessed the first of six forms to be completed. Bobby looked at the clock on the wall and put his head in his hands; ten-forty, they had at least an hour of forms to complete. He opened his computer and accessed the second form. The detectives worked in silence, each completing the forms. Neither said a word.

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Gleason looked at the clock on the dash and wondered if he would get back in time for their one o'clock appointment with Dr. Stephens. Secretly, she hoped they would have to cancel. The blackout Thursday had caused Bobby to have to cancel yesterday's appointment with Dr. Creighton. She had wanted to keep that appointment, however, as she knew something was wrong with her heart.

She went to the grocery and bought healthy things for him. She would make a nice dinner tonight. Gleason had decided to look past Bobby's temper. She had to stop taking offence when he got upset with her. He took me this morning like he did because he loves me, wants me, she thought. On some level, Gleason knew this was not healthy, but didn't care; she was used to overlooking things. If she could ignore the physical abuse Clive had inflicted, she could certainly ignore the emotional abuse from Bobby.

Gleason loaded the two bags into the back seat and the first one promptly fell over, spilling tomatoes all over the floor. She retrieved them, reaching under the front passenger seat for two strays, and found more than tomatoes.

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She was sitting at the kitchen table when Bobby came through the door at twelve thirty-four. He exhaled with relief when he saw her sitting there, "Honey?"

She stood and walked around him, reaching for her wrap on the back of Bobby's chair. "Let's go," she said.

"Give me a minute," he said quietly and headed toward the bathroom; she's still angry, he thought.

Gleason debated what to do. She reached inside her bag and her hand jolted away from the pink thong she had found in his car. She had not been able to draw a deep enough breath since she found it.

"Gleason, I," he said coming down the hall, but she was already out the door, heading to the steps. He locked the apartment and rushed after her.

"I parked near the corner," she said flatly, as he trotted to her side. She handed him the car keys and he tried to take her hand, but she stuffed them into her pockets. He unlocked and opened her door, helped her in and went around to his side, got in and Gleason said, "Wait." He stopped with his hand on the key in the ignition, turned and looked at her, expecting her to say that she had changed her mind.

"I found this under the seat," she said, pulling the thong from her bag by a strap.

Bobby's eyes went to the item and he exhaled sharply, as if he'd been punched in the chest. Slowly his eyes rose to Gleason's face. His mouth dried up, his heart raced and his hand dropped from the key.

She wouldn't stop staring at him and he had to look away. "Oh, God," he whispered.

"I hope you used a condom," she said.

Bobby covered his face with his hands. Gleason dropped the thong on the console between the seats and said, "We're going to be late."

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They stood waiting for the elevator in the lobby of Dr. Shepherd's office building, maintaining their silence.

"Hello, come on in," Dr. Stephens said with a bright smile. Bobby stood aside, letting Gleason enter first and then went to take her wrap.

"Don't – this won't take long," she said, shrugging away, not looking at him. "Hello, I'm Gleason Wintermantle," she said with her hand extended. Dr. Stephens shook her hand and then glanced at Bobby looking at the floor. "I agreed to come here because he wanted me to. However, it has become clear that we have nothing to salvage. You are welcome to speak with him, I'm leaving."

Bobby turned and walked to the bookcases. Dr. Stephens was stunned. She knew this was going to be difficult, but she wasn't expecting this. "Dr. Wintermantle, please, let's at least talk this one time."

Gleason moved to the door, "Goodbye."

"Please don't go," he breathed turning from the bookcases, "please."

She stopped with her hand on the knob. Dr. Stephens knew something awful had happened.

"Gleason, it was when you left. I was out of my mind. I hate myself for doing it. It meant nothing. Please, Sweetheart, don't go. Please."

Dr. Stephens realized then that Gleason must have found out about Bobby and the woman in his car the other night. Gleason knew that if she didn't get out of there, she would never be able to leave him. She began to feel light-headed and held tight to the door, eyes shut tight; she knew that if she left now she would probably pass out before she got to the elevator.

"Dr. Wintermantle, have a seat; you're already here."

Gleason turned and sat heavily on the love seat; all of her color was gone and she drew short breaths. Dr. Stephens noticed her pallor and asked, "Are you all right?"

Bobby crossed the room and squatted in front of her, his hand against her left cheek and jaw. Dr. Stephens felt for the pulse on Gleason's wrist and said, "Your pulse is very slow."

Gleason looked at him and her eyes filled. "Why did you do it?" she whispered.

His head fell and he stood up. He thought he was going to be sick. "Glea-, I, I, I wanted to hurt you. I'm sorry." There was nothing else to say.

"Did you use a condom?"

"Detective, why don't you have a seat?" Bobby sat beside Gleason, and tentatively reached for her hand.

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