Intentional End
Chapter 38
Saturday Afternoon
October 20
Bobby sat thrashing in the tub, trying to push away the water, hollering.
"Christ, Goren, shut up, will you?" Sledge yelled and shut off the water.
Bobby's head hung down, breathing heavily. "Gemme outta here," he mumbled.
Sledge stared at his former colleague and knew that if he didn't help Bobby, drunk as he was, the man would slip, fall and crack open his head. He sighed and said, "Give me your hand."
Bobby reached up without looking up and Sledge pulled him to his feet. Eames stood in the doorway, watching. Bobby slipped and grabbed onto Sledge, nearly pulling him into the tub as well. "Hon, give me a hand here, will you?"
It took some doing, but Bobby was finally out of the tub, leaning on the sink, his wet boxers hanging precariously low. Eames took a towel from the narrow closet just as Bobby slurred, "Gimme a towel." He straightened up and shucked down his shorts and Eames took in all his glory. A professional would have looked away at her partner's displayed manhood, but Eames was much less than a professional right now.
"Alex! Get out of here!" Sledge said, surprised at her open stare. Her eyes shot to her lover's, she reddened and then retreated to the hall.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The trio returned to the forth floor of OPP, Kyle now without cuffs.
"You stay right here, understand? My partner and I are going to discuss how to deal with you," Logan told the frightened techie. Kyle nodded sombrely and turned to his equipment; he'd not said a word except at Gary's when directed by Logan.
The pair of detectives moved to the hallway and whispered. "We can't do anything to him, you know," Falacci told her partner.
"Hell, I know that!" he spat back. "We got what we needed; that part is over. Go tell Mr. Scared-Shitless that you talked me into letting him go." Logan chuckled and added, "He's gonna love you forever. I'll see you upstairs."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sledge returned to the kitchen to find Ted removing the apartment door and a woman talking with Eames. Ted turned and said, "Edward, this is my wife, Becky. Honey, this is Edward Sledge, another friend of Bobby's."
"Glad to meet you. Alex was telling me how you two saved Bobby's life." Becky teared up and her voice quivered, "He is such a good man and he's had such tragedy. Gleason was a god-send for him. How awful," Becky sniffed and wiped at her eyes.
"How is he," Alex asked.
"Asleep. He's going to be pissed and miserable when he wakes up. What's all this?" Sledge asked indicating the food covering the table.
"Oh, I thought you might need something to tide you over, so I whipped up a few things," Becky answered with a shy smile.
"My wife's response to any crisis is food," Ted offered over his shoulder.
"Well, I think this little event qualifies," Sledge stepped to the table and admired the bowl of cole slaw, another of shell salad, the cut-up cheese, boxes of crackers, plate of cookies and bag of buns.
"A pot of sloppy-joe is staying warm on the cooker," Alex mentioned with a smile, watching Sledge's mouth water.
"Ted, how about a lunch break and then I'll help you with that door?"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Logan walked from the printer as Falacci returned from Tech Forensics. "So, does he swear his life to defend and protect you?" Logan asked with a smile.
Falacci just shook her head, "That poor kid, he cried; said he would never do such a stupid thing again. He went on and on how we saved him."
"Yeah, well, I'm glad that is over." The pair stood quietly for a minute, realising the severity of the events Kyle Ambrose had set in motion. "Let's, let's not ever speak of this again, ok?"
His partner nodded and extended her hand. The two shook, forever bound by yet another lie.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She slipped the sundress strap from her shoulder and freed her right breast. Lily nuzzled, searching for the nipple, found it and began to suck hungrily; Gleason's eyes closed and her lips parted in a moment of elation and sexual stirring.
Bobby lay up on his right elbow on a soft blanket in the now familiar meadow, his son asleep beside him; he had never felt such peace. Gleason's eyes found his and they stared, conveying everything in the look. She is beautiful, he thought; Gleason had not yet lost all of the baby weight in the three months since giving birth to their daughter and she looked wonderful.
Christian stirred in his sleep, sighed deeply and opened his eyes. Bobby put a hand to the side of his son's head and the boy looked up at him and smiled. "I have to pee, Daddy."
"Well, come on, let's go pee," his father replied, helping his son stand.
"Where?"
"Where all good men go in the wild – behind a bush."
Gleason smiled and watched her husband take the boy's tiny hand and lead him to a thicket. There they stood, father and son, each holding his penis, peeing into the brush. Bobby looked over and saw his wife watching and smiled.
He could not remember ever being so happy; and he would not remember this dream.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mid Afternoon
"I went through all of his contacts and sorted them by the four categories he identified. He kept most of his contacts ungrouped, probably for just this kind of situation – to maintain some level of anonymity.
"Anyway, of one-hundred-eighty-four contacts, thirty-four were categorised into four groups: ATF, Marlborough, Kitelinger, and CSP. Aside from 'ATF,' I have no idea what the other three are."
"'CSP' is 'Case Sensitive Properties.' It designates evidence – properties – as highly sensitive; either dangerous or valuable, top secret kind of stuff. Evidence with that label must meet certain criteria. The names may be individuals who work with those kinds of items."
Falacci was impressed; her partner might appear to be a boor, but he was knowledgeable. "I see," she replied simply.
"Which group has the most?" Logan asked.
"'Kitelinger,' with nineteen names; eight in AFT; four in Marlborough, and three in CSP."
Logan nodded and looked up at her, "So, what are you thinking?"
"Well, I'm thinking 'Kitelinger' and 'Marlborough' may be the names of cases and the names are the parties involved; 'ATF' is obvious."
Logan wanted to mention that 'Kitelinger' and 'Marlborough' also may be the names of race horses or whores and Wycoff was sidelining as a bookie or pimp; instead he asked, "What did you notice about the names? Gender, ethnicity? What kind of information was included?"
Falacci hadn't yet done that kind of analysis, "I haven't gotten that far."
"Well, I'd suggest analysing each name for gender, perhaps ethnicity. I'd geographically map each name according to the area code in each phone number and zip code if addresses are included; and then, I'd look for commonalities among ISPs in e-mail addresses. Once all that data is collected, then we can triangulate those points and see what we come up with; maybe build a profile for each category." Logan looked at up his partner again and saw a woman stunned. "Watcha think?"
Falacci had worked with Mike Logan for a week and believed him to be an irresponsible, ignorant smart-mouth; one of those guys who initiates a complacent career and ends up driving a desk he can't get reach for the belly in his lap. Now, she reconsidered her appraisal of him. "Sounds like a plan."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ted Oelwein and Sledge spent nearly two hours replacing Bobby's apartment door. Ted and Becky returned to their apartment after cleaning up the kitchen and work area. Sledge asked Ted to take the Glock for safe keeping; no one wanted it in Bobby's apartment.
"We should check on him," Eames suggested.
Sledge nodded and they headed to the bedroom. Eames stood in front of Sledge and stared at her partner, the man she loved. Bobby lay on his back, one hand on his chest, the other beside his ear; he looked peaceful.
The man she loved – right, she thought. What kind of person am I to go straight back to loving Bobby after Edward left? And what about Peter? Peter has feelings for me, I know it; he's as much as said he loves me. But Edward, Edward loves me, I can tell. He's said so, shown me. Do I love him?
"Come on, he needs to sleep," Edward said softly, knowing exactly what Alex was thinking, feeling.
The headed down the hall to the sofa, assuming the same position as always – Sledge with his arm around her, she leaning against his wall-like chest. "You still love him, don't you?" he asked into the side of her head.
"Edward," she replied softly.
And then it all came out, "Alex, I love you. I thought I didn't after that last time, but I couldn't stop thinking of you. I love you and want you to love me. You did once and I wasn't ready. I didn't know how much I loved you until I went to DC and couldn't see you, talk to you. Hon, I love you." Edward wanted her to say she loved him, had never stopped loving him; that she wanted him and no one else. Please, he thought, tell me you love me.
Alex sat up, off of him, and put her feet on the floor, not knowing what to say. "Edward," she whispered.
Edward Sledge's heart began to break apart. He wanted to tell her that what she was feeling for Bobby was not love; that whatever it might be was compounded by her partner's anxiety, grief, frustration and near suicide this morning. He wanted to tell her she didn't really love Bobby and shouldn't try to love him as it was obvious to everyone that Bobby saw her as a partner, nothing more; but he said none of that.
He stood and cleared his throat, "Ok. Uh, why don't you go home and I'll stay with him," then he turned away. Alex looked up at him, hands in his pockets, back to her, and saw his left hand go to his eyes. She stood, crossed to him and set her hands on his back, leaning against his broad form.
"Edward, look at me."
He turned and she saw his red eyes. "Edward, I am so confused right now. I, I need to get my head on straight. I need to know that Bobby's going to be ok." She stared up at him and knew exactly what he wanted her to say. "I can't tell you that I love you because I don't know."
Alex turned away and he reached for her arm, "Ok, ok. Then let's go slowly. Hon, I'll wait for you. Know that, I will wait for you. Until you know what you want, I will love you and wait for you to figure it out. Ok?" Then he kissed her, not with passion, but with love and devotion.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Deakins saw Logan and Falacci working steadily as he crossed the squad room, "Find anything?"
"Captain! Yeah, actually; Falacci here has made some headway with the contact list in Wycoff's PDA," Logan offered. Neither would ever say a word about their morning adventure.
Deakins looked toward his newest detective, "Yeah? What?"
Falacci explained what she found and theorised concerning the four categories. She also explained Logan's idea of triangulating the information points.
"Sounds good; don't stay too late," the captain replied softly and turned.
"Uh, Captain, one more thing," Logan said and Deakins stopped and turned. "Falacci, tell him about those initials."
"I found several sets of upper- and lower-case letter combinations." Falacci handed her boss the sheet of paper. "It's a code or abbreviation system of some kind, but I can make neither heads nor tails of it." She watched him study the information.
"Goren could crack this in minutes," Deakins said sadly, returning the paper. "Look, why don't you two head out for the day? I'll see you tomorrow." With that, Deakins turned and walked to his office with the posture and presence of an old man.
The pair watched him in silence, and then both returned to their work, neither making a move to leave.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Get out," Bobby said sourly, making the turn into the kitchen.
The couple broke and Sledge said, "Hey, how do you feel?"
"Like shit. Fuck you both. We got coffee?" Bobby sat down hard into his chair and set his elbows on the tabletop, resting his face against his palms.
Eames moved to pour him a cup, "Are you hungry? Becky brought over a bunch of food."
"Shut the fuck up," he mumbled behind his hands.
Eames and Sledge exchanged a look and he shook his head as if to say, ignore it. She set the cup in front of Bobby, the smell wafting to his nose and he shot to his feet, spun, leaned over the sink and heaved up nothing. Alex backed away, retreating to Sledge's side. Bobby heaved again and again, each time producing nothing.
"Oh, fuck," he groaned miserably and felt for the cupboard door, rooted for the aspirin and shook a handful into his palm. Sledge dashed to his side and grabbed Bobby's wrist. "Get the fuck off me!" Bobby cried and tried to twist away.
"No! You are only taking two, hear me? Two!" Sledge held on and pried open Bobby's fingers, scraping the pills from the other man's palm. "Give me those!"
"Goddamn fucker, let me have them!" Sledge twisted Bobby's arm around his back and pulled up. "Owwww, fuck!" he yelled, "Let go of me!" Bobby began to flail with his other arm and Sledge had Bobby on the floor with a knee in his back in two seconds flat.
"Do you want me to cuff you, ass-hole?" he shouted. "Now, knock it off and settle down!" Sledge held onto Bobby's arm until he felt him relax. "Good, now you are going to stand up and sit down, got it?"
Bobby didn't reply, so Sledge stood up off Bobby's back and pulled him up, shoving him into the chair. "Give me the rest of those goddamn pills!" Most of the aspirin flew in the melee and Bobby reluctantly surrendered the rest. "Thank you. Here, take these," Sledge said, offering two, "Alex, get him a glass of water."
She set the water in front of Bobby and the pair watched him slouch in the chair; neither had ever seen someone so miserable. Eventually, he tossed the pills into his mouth and drank the water straight down – big mistake. In a flash, Bobby was back over the sink, heaving up the water and pills. "Awww Christ," he nearly cried, hanging onto the sink.
"Come on, sit down," Sledge said softly, putting an arm around Bobby's shoulders. "Sit down and sip that coffee. It'll do you better than aspirin, come on."
Bobby sat and laid his head flat on the table, his arms over it. The other two sat and heard him sob. "Why did you stop me? I can't live anymore, I can't."
Alex's eyes filled and her hands went to her lips. Neither knew what to say, so they listened.
"She's gone, my kids are gone, my mother. I want to die. You should have let me die." Bobby sobbed aloud; after a bit, he settled and then sat up, using the edge of his undershirt to wipe his nose. "What did you do with my gun?" he asked Sledge, still hitching sobs.
"It's gone," he answered simply.
Bobby slumped and asked pathetically, "Where? Where is it?"
"Bobby, it's gone. Forget about it."
"Jesus Christ," he mumbled. He took the cup and sipped and Alex watched his eyes close.
"Good?" she asked and he nodded.
"My head hurts."
"I bet it does," said Sledge, standing and retrieving the aspirin bottle from the counter. "Here, take these one at a time with a sip of coffee," Sledge put the two pills on the table top and Bobby did as told.
"You should try to get some more sleep," Sledge added.
Bobby nodded, but made no move. The three sat at the table as Bobby finished his coffee. Then, he rose without a word and headed back to the bedroom.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------