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Designed Intent
Chapter 54
Monday Morning
Bobby reached and shut off the alarm clock. He felt like he hadn't slept at all. He turned over and looked straight into her wide blue eyes.
"Morning, Love," she said and put her hand on the back of his head, pulled him to her and kissed him. "Did you sleep well?"
"I'm beat. How do you feel?"
"I slept all right. Why are you so tired?"
He did not want her to recall the bad dream she had had during the night if she had forgotten it. He clearly recalled his dream that seemed to follow hers as it had the night before. "It happens. I better get up." He kissed her softly, and then headed for the bathroom.
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Bobby and Gleason stood at the apartment door, he held her arms and she held his travel mug. "Will you stay in today? Promise me that you will stay in and rest. Tonight we'll go get some dinner. Ok?"
"Ok."
"Do you know what today is?" he asked her stepping closer, tilting his head to the left.
Gleason wrinkled her brow, tilted her head much like Bobby does, and asked, "No, what is today?"
He leaned in and kissed her, "Today is ten days since your surgery. We had to wait ten days before we could make love. Today is day ten. Today we can make love." He said all of this in a deep whisper.
Gleason smiled and said, "Oh-h-h, well, we have something to look forward to, don't we Love," she said with a smile, "You be very careful today. I want to see you here safe and sound tonight. Now go."
They kissed again, he took his mug and left. Bobby and Gleason had the same thought at the same moment – this is what it will be like when we are married.
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It had been more than a week since Bobby had been back to One Police Plaza having been at the courthouse all day, everyday testifying and then into the evenings, preparing with Carver. He knew Eames had been solely responsible for their cases. He was excited to be back, but worried about how Eames would be – she had been touchy even before the trial began.
His partner was already at her desk when Bobby walked in. She did not look up, said nothing, stood and then walked to the printer. Bobby noticed that Sledge headed that way, too.
Deakins walked over and asked about Gleason. "She's much better. She'll, uh, she'll be home for four weeks," Bobby answered with a shy smile.
"Good, good; glad she's ok. Listen, Carver wants you to meet him in his office at three to go over your testimony. He said you might be called again later; this is going to be one long trial. In the meantime, talk with your partner; she has carried the whole load while you were in court. You owe her."
Bobby nodded and reached for the pink message slips; he was surprised to find only four, he thought there would have been more. Deakins glanced over toward the printer, saw Eames and Sledge talking, Sledge was gesturing and Eames was looking away. Deakins shook his head and then returned to his office. Bobby checked Eames' cup and saw it was already full of hot tea. He walked to the vending machines and bought a bag of the small fruity candy things she liked. Eames was grinning at the floor as she walked back to her desk.
"I got these for you," Bobby said holding out the bag, sounding like a little boy.
Eames looked at her partner and had to smile. Men! Sheesh.
"Thanks," she said, taking the peace offering.
"So, what do I need to know, need to do?"
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Gleason made the bed, took a shower and tidied up the kitchen all the while feeling like how a good wife might feel looking after her happy home. She walked around smiling.
It was very different when Gavin had wanted her to marry him. She knew they were too young and realized that Gavin saw it as a way to encourage her to have a child; he desperately wanted to have children and she did not. Gleason was a wreck after their breakup and had gotten herself caught up with Clive soon after. She shut her mind to that.
Gleason did all there was to do in the apartment. She ran down, got the paper, read the whole thing and it wasn't even noon. She debated going for a walk. She needed the exercise and she felt fine. Besides, she wanted to look for a new top for the wedding and wanted to find a gift for Bobby. However, she had promised him that she would stay in. I don't want to call and ask him, she thought, so, I'll call and tell him. And she did.
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Eames turned right into the alley, the cherry light on the dash adding to the splashing red and white lights bouncing off the brick walls. She and Bobby slammed the car doors, started pulling on latex, and walked up to an officer.
"Eames and Goren, Major Case. Why were we called?" Eames asked the man who looked young enough to be a Boy Scout. They both pulled on winter gloves over the latex gloves and shoved hands into their pockets, as it was unseasonably cold.
"Not sure. We had a report of a break in, responded, found the two bodies, called it in and were told to wait for Major Case."
"Who are these two? Any ID?" Bobby asked; he started toward the two bodies when his cell phone rang. He pulled his phone from his pocket, checked the number, said, "Hi, Sweetheart," and walked away.
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Gleason bundled up as Bobby had told her and headed out. It felt more like January than autumn and she loved it. Gleason felt wonderful – it felt so good to be back home in New York, to walk the streets of their neighborhood, to be able to breathe without problem. Outside the apartment building door, she turned right, walked to the corner and then turned left toward the block of shops.
She stopped in a rare-book store and asked after first editions by Ruben Lesky, Bobby's favorite author. They had nothing, but said they would make inquiries and let her know. She indicated she would like to have it within the next ten days and left her cell number.
Gleason continued walking for another half hour and stopped in a small coffee shop to warm up. She had a cup of tea and a brownie while she watched people come and go. It felt good to get warm; she wiped her nose with a paper napkin.
The bells over the door rang and Gleason looked up. In walked a man holding the hand of a small boy of about three. The man pulled off the child's hat and a mass of dark auburn curls sprung free. The little boy looked over at Gleason, smiled broadly and waved. Her cup stopped midway to her lips. The boy's eyes were grey – he looked exactly like the child Mrs. Goren described.
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"Everything ok?" Eames asked as Bobby returned from taking the call.
"What did you find out about these two?"
She looked up at him, "The designer jacket is one Melvin Turnbuckle and the grey hoodie is Sylvester Brine."
A second, older, uniformed walked up and said, "The way we figure, there's three of them. These two did a break-in off the fire escape there; the third guy is waiting here, like a lookout or something. These two probably went up, went in, took what they wanted, and came back down the same way they went up, using the fire escape. I'm figuring the lookout gets greedy, takes out these two and takes off with the haul. He's probably long gone by now."
Bobby stood listening, nodded and said, "Yeah, I don't think so." Bobby crossed to the end of the fire escape above them. He looked up at the retractable ladder hanging two feet above his head and then down at the ground under the pull-down ladder.
"What are you looking for?" Eames asked as she and the two officers watched.
Bobby reached up, pulled, and then yanked the ladder. It squealed with resistance and then jerked down under his tug. "This hasn't been used in a long while. Look, rust is flaking off. If these guys had used this ladder to go up and then come down, there would already be rust on the ground. There was no rust, now there is.
"These guys didn't use this escape. I think they were standing here, waiting for someone maybe. Someone calls to them from the end of the alley, they turn, the other guy shoots, these two drop and the shooter takes off. Do we know which apartment was burglarized?"
"Yeah, 2B, right up there," the young officer said, pointing.
Eames asked, "Who made the initial call?"
The older officer, not happy about being contradicted on his theory of how it went down, flipped open a notepad and read, "Anonymous 9-1-1 went to central dispatch. Me and my partner here were in vicinity and responded." He snapped shut the notebook and added with attitude, speaking directly to Bobby, "That sound plausible to you?" Without waiting for an answer, the older officer scowled and walked away.
Eames looked at Bobby with raised eyebrows. Bobby just shook his head and shoved his hands back into his pockets.
He looked at the bodies, not moving. Eames looked at him, waiting; she was just about to say something when he wiped his hand over his eyes and squatted over Turnbuckle.
"Two shots, one to the upper right shoulder and one to the throat, that one killed him." Bobby took the dead man's left hand and turned it over, examining both sides of the fingers, and then he bent and sniffed it and moved to the second body. "Three shots all centered at the heart. No powder burns, the shooter was not standing here."
"Detectives, we found this duffle in a trashcan two blocks south. It's heavy."
"Thanks," Eames said, taking the bag from the uniformed and set it on the ground. She shoved her hands back in her pockets and looked at her partner.
Bobby stood up and looked right and left. "Shots came from over there, the street maybe," he said, pointing left, toward the street end of the alley. "Turnbuckle, designer jacket here, was hit first; probably in the shoulder, turned and was then hit in the throat. Brine took three in the heart; the shooter was good. The sound of the gunfire would have been encapsulated within the alley." He looked up at the windows lining the alleyway and then said to one of the uniforms standing nearby, "Check out those apartments, see if anyone heard or saw anything." Then, looking at his partner he said, "Let's go take a look at the apartment."
"Good, let's go inside. It is freezing out here," Eames and the officer turned toward the mouth of the alley.
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The little boy kept turning around and smiling at Gleason as he waited with his dad at the counter.
"Come on, Chris, let's take this to Mommy. She's waiting for us." The man took the bag and his change, and reached for the child's hand; they stopped at the door where the man set the bag on the table and pulled the boy's hat onto the curly dark mop and tugged on the tiny mittens. Gleason and the child continued to look at each other. The father pushed open the door and with bag in one hand and his child's hand in the other, the child looked back one last time and waved.
A chill crept down Gleason's neck and across her shoulders and down her back, the cup of tea still sat poised in front of her lips. Slowly she set down the cup and her fingers moved to her lips. Her impulse was to jump up and run after the man and boy.
Who was that child? He looked at her as if he knew her; he smiled and waved! He looked like what their child would have looked like. The man had called him 'Chris!'
Gleason wanted to call Bobby and tell him; but she didn't want to disturb him again. She left a tip, rose and pulled on her coat.
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