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Intentional End

Chapter 16

Friday Morning

October 12

"Let me call you right back. Yeah, ten minutes. Thanks." Deakins hung up, stood and said, "How is she? Is she ok?"

Bobby walked to his boss's desk, got right in Deakins' face and could barely keep himself together. "They bugged our apartment! A camera and sound in our bedroom! They got into our apartment while I was out this morning and those bastards drugged her – gave her something in her arm! They pulled me off the street and told me to back off."

Bobby drew ragged breaths; he had to steady himself for this next bit, "Wycoff as much as told me she was raped. You son-of-a-bitch, you knew about this." Bobby had to force himself not to go for Deakins' throat, too.

Bill Perkins happened to notice the two men in Deakins' office and said to Logan who was passing by, "Hey, should we go see if everything is ok in there?" and nodded toward the office. Logan looked and saw Bobby up in the boss's face, left arm flailing, shouting.

"Aw, shit, Goren. Ok, let's go." The pair walked the short distance to the office and Logan knocked, opened the door and they entered, "Everything ok, Captain?"

Bobby spun and glared at the two men. "It's ok, gentlemen, everything is fine. Thank you." Logan looked from Deakins to Bobby and knew everything was not fine. Deakins nodded and Perkins turned to leave, Logan hesitated. "It's ok. Please, go."

Reluctantly, Logan left and shut the door behind him. Bobby turned back to the Captain and said, "You knew about all of this didn't you?"

Deakins stepped away and said, "Bobby, sit down. Come on, sit. I swear to you, I did not, and do not, know anything. Gleason, is she ok? What do you mean she was raped? Did she tell you?"

Bobby physically slumped and moved to a chair. With head in his hands, he said, "She, she . . . she wouldn't let me touch her. I suspected she was raped from her behaviour. This morning, I asked Wycoff if it happened and, and his demeanor changed and I knew." Bobby looked up at his boss. "I know she was raped." Deakins returned his look and Bobby saw empathy. He had to trust someone.

He continued softly, "She speaks fluent Russian now, she never did before. She was on the phone, speaking Russian, and then she didn't even remember being on the phone, Then, then she let me make love to her. And they watched." He covered his face with his hands.

Deakins sat beside him, "Bobby, what do you want me to do?"

Bobby lowered his hands, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, laced his fingers and said, "Help me."

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Gleason woke screaming, That man was pulling, yanking on her hair. No, no, don't, don't do this. Please don't do this. He struck her and ripped open her shirt.

She shot up, crying, sobbing and realized she was in their bed. "Bobby!" she called for him. "Bobby!" she cried louder. He didn't answer. Oh, her head pounded. She had to pee. She smelled of sex. "Bobby?" she whimpered. He's not here. He's not here.

Gleason couldn't wait any longer, she had to pee, so she crawled off Bobby's side of the bed and walked naked into the bathroom. She turned on the shower, went back into the bedroom and noticed the door leaning against the wall. Why is the door off the door? Gleason's hand went to her mouth. They were here. Oh, God, they were here.

She grabbed her throw from the foot of the bed and went to find her cell.

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Bobby was on his way home when his cell rang; he flipped it open, saw her number and said, "Hi, Sweetheart. How do you feel?"

"Bobby where are you?" her voice was a whisper, she sounded frightened.

"Honey, what's wrong? Are you ok?"

"Bobby, they were here."

She remembers them being there? He glanced at the clock on the dash; she had only been asleep for about three hours since he returned after the run-in with Wycoff. "Who? Who was there, Gleason?"

"Them. They were here."

"I'm almost home. Is the door locked? Go check the door."

"Bobby, the door is off the door," she whispered.

Then he understood. "Honey, I did that, I took the bedroom door off. It's ok. Honey, I did it."

"Come home, Bobby."

"I'm almost there, Baby. Let's talk till I get there."

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"We need to repeat her," Wycoff told Peterson.

"What is with that woman? That Conway person – no problem, one shot and it's all gone. Why won't she blank?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's her chemistry, her brain, who knows. We need to do something significant to get her to blank. That detective husband of hers is not going to give up." Wycoff did not want to tell his boss about Goren figuring out that his wife had been raped; and he certainly did not want his boss to know who had done it.

Peterson leaned back in his chair and asked, "What about the camera, you getting anything?"

Wycoff stood and moved to the window, "Oh yeah, we got stuff. Last night, Jesus, best porn I've ever seen."

"For Christ's sake, Phil, this is not your private booth. If it's not useful for our purposes, get rid of it. Understand?"

"Yeah, yeah. What about the woman, why don't we bring her in again, up the dosage and rerun the process?"

"No, you go to her. Watch their place, when that husband of hers is out, go in and process her. I'm not sure this over-the-phone-crap is working. Just make sure this time it works. And watch that detective husband of hers. I have a bad felling about him."

Wycoff nodded and left.

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"Gussie, hand Mum the fork, please," she said to her son, smiling. Malcolm was home from his consultancy, he was loving and attentive toward her; he was enjoying his work; and, he was being an excellent father to their son. Angus had stopped wetting the bed, was sucking his thumb less and was talking more. Maeve had not been this happy in a long time.

"Who do I hear at the door?" Maeve said. Gussie smiled and clambered down from the stool where he sat watching and helping his mother. He ran down the hall and launched into his father's arms, wrapping his arms around Malcolm's neck. Gussie had not been this happy in a long time.

"I'm home, Lass, and I've got a lad around my neck," Malcolm called as set his case on the bottom step as was his habit and carried his boy down the hall to the kitchen. He had completed the consultancy, was feeling ten years younger, his classes were going well, his wife loved him and his son adored him. Malcolm had not been this happy in a long time.

Malcolm held his son and kissed his wife. "What can I do to help you?" he asked.

"Sit and play with Angus; and tell me of your day," she replied.

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"We're going to go in one more time and make sure she blanks this time," Wycoff told the team.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Robinson asked.

"No, it is probably a very bad idea, but nothing else has worked," Wycoff replied.

No one said anything for a minute, and then Drumiester offered, "Why doesn't she just have an accident?"

Eyes moved from face to face, all ending on Wycoff. He considered it and then said, "She just may at that."

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Bobby parked around the block and jogged to the apartment. He let himself in and found Gleason sitting on the bed, wrapped in her throw, shivering, rocking, and hitching sobs. "Honey, are you ok?" He stepped to the bed and sat, taking her into his arms. "Honey, shush, it's all right." He pulled back and looked at her – she was a wreck.

"I didn't know where you were. I woke up and you weren't here. I had a bad dream and you weren't here. They were here, weren't they?"

Bobby looked at her and realised she knew what had happened, or knew something had happened. "Gleason, how do you know someone was here?"

She wiped her nose on her throw and "I was sleeping and then a man, I thought it was you, pulled the covers off me and, and . . . then –," she looked away, thinking, "I can't remember anything after that."

Bobby stared at her, not saying anything, waiting for her to continue, giving her mind time to gather what had happened.

"They were whispering. And one held my arms. And the other one, the other one . . . I can't remember."

"The shower is running. Did you take a shower?" he asked her.

"The shower! Oh, no, I turned it on when I went to the bathroom. I need a shower. Has it been running this whole time?"

"It's ok, come on, let's go." He helped her from the bed and held her hand, leading her to the steamy bathroom.

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"Ok, we have to decide – do we do her again or does she have an accident?" Wycoff said to his boss.

"An accident? Are you out of your mind? Jesus Christ, Phil, you want to off her? Are you serious?"

"Ok, ok. We do her. She's going back to Evanston on Sunday. We can take her one day next week; maybe next weekend when she's here and the cop is in New York."

"No, that's too late. She's going to remember or that detective is going to figure out where she was and what she was doing. She needs to be done before she goes to Evanston. Just make sure she blanks this time; I'm getting tired of this. We need to move on. Understand?"

"Yes, I understand. She'll blank this time."

"Good, get out of here."

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Gleason showered while Bobby prepared their breakfast; brunch, actually as it was just about noon. He made tea and set out the pastries, poured them each a glass of juice, rinsed the grapes and set them in a bowl. Then he walked back to the bedroom, Gleason was dressing.

He watched her step into her white cotton panties and pull them up. Then she took the undershirt from the bed, pulled it on, turned around, and saw him standing in the doorway.

"Oh! You scared me," she exclaimed, hands at her mouth.

Bobby stepped to her and enveloped her in his arms, "Gleason, I love you so much. I don't want anything to happen to you. You need to be careful, hear me?" He stepped back and looked at her. He didn't want to frighten her, but he suspected that Wycoff and his goons were still lurking.

Gleason looked at him and shook her head, "Let me get dressed. I'm starving."

She was on her fourth piece of toast and second cup of tea when Bobby's cell rang. "Goren."

It was Alex, "Bobby, it's me. Look, I know you are taking a few days to be with Gleason, but Deakins said to call you."

His eyes slammed shut, "What?"

"The Brazilians decided to return the pilot's wife to the US. She's on a flight right now. Deakins wants us to take her into custody from the marshals at JFK and begin processing her."

He said nothing because he didn't want to erupt. Eames heard him breathing, "You there?"

"Yes. Alex, isn't there anyone else?" he said with tremendous resignation.

"I know Bobby, but it's you and me. And, we're probably going to have to work through the weekend as well."

Son-of-a-bitch, he thought. "What time? When does the plane arrive?"

"Not for five hours, but we have to get the paperwork started. How soon can you get here?"

Bobby glanced at the kitchen clock, twelve-forty-three, "Give me an hour."

"Thanks. Say hi to Glea-." But Bobby had already hung up.