52

Intentional End

Chapter 9

September 12

Wednesday

The next day, Bobby returned to Carmel Ridge to collect his mother's things; everything fit into one box. From there, he went to the funeral home to make the arrangements; and then, he went home.

Bobby set the box of his mother's belongings on the sofa and removed the two photo albums. He sat back and looked at each picture in the older album, looking at members of his parents' families. He recognized his grandmother and Aunt Audrey on his mother's side and his father's parents and Aunt Nadine and Uncle Paul, his father's sister and her husband. His mother was a beautiful woman and his father a good-looking man when they were young; and they both looked happy.

He found two photos of Uncle Mark – one in an Army uniform and one with his arm around his mother, she was looking up at him, smiling, a hand on his chest. Frank had told Bobby about 'Uncle Mark.' His mother had gotten very upset when Bobby had asked her about him and Bobby now realized that that seemed to be the beginning of her physical decline.

The second album contained photos of Frank and him as babies and toddlers, children and young adults. Memories flooded back as Bobby examined school pictures and the handful of Christmases and family events photos when he was little. The few pictures after he was seven indicated the beginning of his mother's illness; and not one showed any joy. A few photos of Bobby's army days and both boys' university graduations filled the end of the album. No pictures came after that; the last six pages were empty. He removed the photo of him and Frank when they were little from the frame that his mother kept on the dresser in her room at home and at Carmel Ridge. He slid it into the back of the second photo album and placed both albums on the bottom shelf of the bookcase.

He set the box of lavender bath powder on Gleason's dresser, folded the wrap and woolen throw, gifts from their honeymoon, and set them on the shelf in the bedroom closet. Then, he sat in his chair and read each of the children's books he had purchased for Christian, the invisible little boy his mother talked to.

Bobby's mind raced with memories of his mother reading to Frank and him when they were little, one on each side of her lap, her arm always around Frank, never around him. He imagined her reading to the little boy; and, he pictured himself and Gleason reading to their own child. He missed his mother and he missed his wife; and he knew he would miss Christian. Bobby sat in his chair and cried aloud.

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That evening, Bobby called his friend, Neil Isakson, an old Army buddy; they had worked CIU together. At the end of their tours, EIOD, the Elite Intelligence Operations Division, an obscure government investigative unit, had recruited both of them. Neil joined up but Bobby felt obligated to go home and look after his mother. They stayed in touch, however, even after Neil left government employ and became a renegade biker. Neil still had 'connections' and Bobby asked to meet with him to talk about looking for Gleason. But, when he explained to Neil about Gleason being taken, Neil said he couldn't help.

"What do you mean, you can't help me?" Bobby asked.

"Look, man, let it go. You do not want to fool with this," Neil replied.

Bobby didn't know what to think. "Neil, you have to help me."

"I'm sorry, Bobby. I don't want to get involved. Leave this alone; they're going to know you're trying to find her. You do not want to engage these people. You need to just wait for her to come home."

"At least tell me what is going on. Who are they? They're not FBI are they?"

"I am telling you, man, drop it. You are only going to make it bad for her."

"What do you know about this? What are you afraid of?"

Bobby listened to his friend breathe and knew Neil was considering, "Neil?"

"Man . . . I am telling you – leave-it-alone; she'll be back when she's done. Do not pursue this."

Neither spoke for a long minute and then Bobby said reluctantly, "Ok. I'll talk to you. Bye." He sat with the phone in his hand and was lost. What the hell is going on, he wondered. He was surprised that Neil, of all people, could not – would not – help him.

Bobby sat for an hour and then got the bottle of scotch and a glass.

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September 13

Late Thursday Evening

The funeral that afternoon was small – Bobby, Frank, Lewis, Lewis's mom, Deakins and Eames made up the group. Only Frank went back to Bobby's apartment after leaving the cemetery. The brothers had a huge argument about finances, Frank was certain their mother had money and Bobby knew she didn't.

After two beers each and much shouting between them, Frank stormed out and Bobby fell asleep across the bed. Several hours later, he woke up and opened the bottle of scotch. The American government had kidnapped his wife, his mother was dead and his brother was an ass hole; he planned to finish the bottle. And he had another.

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September 14

Early Friday Morning

"Hullo?"

"I been callin' and callin' you. I thought mebbee you were out somewhere."

"Bobby," she said with resignation. "Are you ok?"

"I think I'm drunk."

"Where are you?"

"I'm home."

She didn't know what to say.

"Aless, you there?"

"Yes, I'm here."

"Whachew doin'?"

"I was sleeping, Bobby; it's two-thirty in the morning."

"Iss two-thirty? Really? Huh. Hey, can you come over? I, I don't want to be alone 'cause I have 'nother bottle of scotch and I don't want to open it. I mean I want to open it, but I'm not so good with scotch, so I might open it. I know I shouldn't, I mean I don't want to, but I might. I prob'ly will, but I shouldn't. You commin' over?"

Eames sighed. She knew she should go, but didn't want to, not really; but, she knew she would. "Ok, give me half an hour."

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Alex pressed the buzzer a fourth time and leaned on it. Goddamn him, he fell asleep, she thought. Finally, the door buzzed and she climbed to the third floor; the door to his apartment stood open and she entered.

Bobby shuffled down the hall toward the living room, bare foot and bare chested, wearing nothing but flannel sleep pants. His body stunned Eames – she knew he was built, but had no idea that filled out his dress shirts and suits. Dear God!

"Hey, thanks for commin' over. You wanna drink?"

"Uh, no, thanks." Eames had to look away and then said, "Bobby, go put on a shirt, ok?"

"Huh?" He looked down at his chest and set his left hand upon it, running it up and down, "Oh, ok, yeah, I should, sorry. Gimme minute." Bobby held up one finger then turned and wavered back down the hall, dragging one hand along the wall.

Eames went into the kitchen and saw that he had, indeed, opened the other bottle of scotch; the first one lay empty in the sink. She replaced the cap on the fresh one, set it in the cabinet under the sink, and prepared a pot of coffee. Then she dumped the glass of scotch sitting on the table into the sink.

"You wanna drink?" Bobby asked again as he returned, leaning precariously to the left, wearing a wrinkled, inside-out green tee shirt and loose fitting jeans with no belt. "Hey, where's 'at bottle? I'm sure I opened thuther bottle. You see it anywhere? I had a glass here somewhere, too," he slurred, a hand on the back of the chair to steady himself as he turned to look into the living room.

"Bobby sit down. Have you eaten today at all?" Eames opened the refrigerator and found, surprisingly, a nice selection of deli meats, cheeses and a big bowl of shell salad. "Here, let me make you a sandwich. You need to eat."

"Yeah, that would be good. You want some? Help yourself. Ted and Becky 'cross the hall brought over some stuff when they saw Mom's 'bituary in the paper. They're good people." Bobby sat with his forearms on the table, head hanging down, words slurring.

Eames set to the task of making him two nice, thick sandwiches and scooped a big dish of salad for him. The coffee finished and she poured them each a mug. Bobby dug in with gusto. She sat across from him and watched him eat. Neither said anything.

"Thississ good, thanks," Bobby said around a mouthful. "You sure you don't want anything?"

Eames shook her head and smiled at him. She wondered if he had shaved for the funeral because right now, he had the start of a real beard. His hair was mussed, showing what his hair was really like – she had no idea it was so curly. He is one good-looking man, she thought, and Gleason is one lucky woman. Speaking of whom. . .

"What did the captain mean when he said Gleason would be 'out of the picture' for a while? Is everything ok?" It was odd that Bobby buried his mother without his wife at his side.

He was about to take another bite but he shut his eyes and he set down his sandwich, wiping his mouth with his fingers. He sat for a moment and then said sadly, "She's, uh, the government, she . . . I, I'm not supposed to talk about it." He took another bite and didn't look at Eames.

'Immigration' was the first thing to enter Eames' mind; but Gleason had become an American citizen weeks ago – immigration should be a non-issue now.

Bobby finished the first sandwich, ate a few bites of salad, and sat back. He seemed to be sobering up.

"Are you finished?" Eames asked.

"Yeah, thanks. I guess I needed to eat something. I shouldn't drink like that."

Eames stood and removed his plate and the salad. "Well, if anyone had a reason to drink, you're it."

Bobby nodded and sat silently. Eames wrapped up the other sandwich, returned the uneaten portion of salad to the big bowl, set both in the fridge, washed up the dishes and refilled their mugs.

"They won't tell me where she is or what she's doing. I can't even investigate. Even Deakins warned me to let things run its course," Bobby said as Eames returned to her chair.

"Who's 'they'?"

"G-men. Feds. Eff-Bee-Eye," he said sardonically. "The government. Representatives of Big Brother. Big shot federal agents. Them."

"What did they tell you?"

Bobby considered for a moment and then began, "Two weeks ago an agent from the FBI, Wycoff . . ." and he told her everything.

"So, you have no idea where she is or, what this artifact is?" He shook his head and looked at his hands in his lap. "Bobby, she could be anywhere on the planet."

"I know, I know!" He stood, taking his mug, and moved to the living room, sitting in his chair, setting his mug on the short bookcase beside him.

Eames moved to the sofa with her coffee. They sat quietly for several minutes and then Bobby asked, "Have you talked with Sledge?"

Eames sat back and pulled up her legs, wrapping her hands around her mug. "Not since he left. The partners sat quietly again and then Eames said, "Anyway, I've been seeing Peter from the one-seven. You remember him –."

"Yeah, yeah. Is he nice to you?"

Eames smiled and said, "He's sweet. He reminds me of my little brother."

Bobby smiled and nodded. Tall men usually surrounded Eames and this Peter Something was not tall.

"He gave me this necklace for our 'three-month' anniversary." She held out the tiny heart on the fine chain around her neck.

Bobby smiled and nodded again. Eames yawned and slid down on the sofa, stretching out. "How's Frank taking your mom's passing?" she asked. "He looked pretty good at the funeral." Eames had only seen Bobby's brother once, last winter in a coffee line for the homeless outside a church where she and Bobby were investigating the murder of the preacher's wife. There was Frank, right outside, in line for free coffee.

Bobby groaned and said, "My brother is an idiot – a selfish, unfeeling idiot. He'll be gone for awhile now that he knows Mom had no money."

They sat quietly and first one and then the other fell asleep.

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September 14

Friday Morning

"Eames, wake up!" God, his head pounded. "Eames!" Bobby shook her gently and she roused.

"Huh? What--? Bobby! Jesus, what time is it?"

"The captain just called. It's after nine, get up."

"Shit! I'm supposed to be interviewing the dead pilot's CO right now. Fuck!"

"Look, can you go in wearing that?" The night before, Eames had thrown on jeans and an old sweater over a tee shirt with nothing underneath. Her hair was mussed and she needed a shower.

"I suppose so. Do you have an extra toothbrush? Shit!"

"Yeah, yeah, here," Bobby led her to the bathroom and got her one of the toothbrushes he and Gleason had taken from the Waldorf after their wedding night. He also got her a fresh washcloth and towel. "Here, use Gleason's stuff if you want. Help yourself. Do you want me to call the Captain back?"

"No, I'll call him. Thanks, Bobby."

With that, Bobby went to the kitchen and made a fresh pot of coffee. His head pounded, but he was better than he would have been had Eames not come over and sobered him up.

He ran his hand over his chin and felt beard. Gleason likes my beard, he thought, eyes filling. His mother never liked facial hair; she said it reminded her of derelicts. He squeezed his eyes and sniffed – he missed his mom and worried about his wife.

Eames entered the kitchen having brushed her teeth and hair and washed her face.

"My phone is dead so I had to use the phone in the bedroom to call Deakins. He's pissed. He said he tried to call me, but – my phone is dead. He's been stalling the CO. I have to go. Are you going to be ok?"

"Yeah, Eames, yeah. Thanks for coming over last night. I'm, I'm sorry about making you late."

"It's ok. I have to go. I'll call you later."

"Yeah, go."

Eames left and Bobby wandered toward the bedroom.

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