Harm None: A Rowan Gant Investigation (26 page)

“I can connect him with Ariel Tanner,” he
shot back angrily. “Shit, we’re obviously dealin’ with a psycho,
maybe the kid’s got a fuckin’ split personality or somethin’!”

I stared back silently, stunned by his sudden
outburst. I knew this case was wearing on him, but something else
was there too. His hand went up to his neck, and he let out a heavy
sigh.

“Listen,” Ben’s voice was much calmer. “I’m
sorry, man. I shouldn’t be snappin’ at ya’. It’s just that...”

Ben was unceremoniously interrupted by the
shrill tone of his beeper as it demanded his attention. He
automatically pulled it from his belt and quickly perused its
liquid crystal face.

“It’s a call from the coppers I had sittin’
on Cally’s house,” he told me. “I’d better get in touch with
‘em.”

“Go ahead,” I urged. “I’ll be with
Felicity.”

“Look, Rowan…” Ben struggled with the words
as he wagged his finger back and forth between us. “Are you and me
okay?”

“Yeah,” I reassured him. “We’re fine. Go make
your call.”

* * * * *

“How’re you feeling?” I whispered as I leaned
forward and brushed the hair from her face.

“Aye, tired,” she murmured, “and sore.”

I returned a half-hearted smile. “I’ll
bet.”

“Rowan…Has anyone told you…About, you
know...”

“Yeah, I know about it. Allison told me. I’m
sorry.”

A small teardrop glistened in the corner of
her eye and slowly rolled across her cheek to wet the pillow.

“I’m the one who should apologize, then,” she
returned. “I never should have gone over there. Cally just sounded
so frightened...”

“Shhhh.” I brushed away the next tear as it
began to journey down her face. “It’s all right. You did exactly
what I would have done. It’s okay.”

She blinked rapidly then took in a deep
breath and let it out slowly. She lay there in silence, just
looking back at me for a few short moments as she regained her
composure.

“Is Cally okay, then?” she finally asked.

“Physically, she’s fine. He never laid a hand
on her,” I answered. “Mentally. About as well as can be expected.
She blames herself for what happened to you. Allison took her down
for coffee a little while ago.”

“It wasn’t her fault.”

“I know,” I assured her. “I know.”

“Aye, what about Devon? Did they catch
him?”

“Ben went to check on that. The officers that
were watching Cally’s place just beeped him.”

Watching her face, I could see that the
tranquilizer had not worn off and was creeping up on her once
again. Her breathing became easier, and she began sliding backward
into relaxation.

“I’ve got a shoot to do this afternoon,”
Felicity told me groggily.

“No you don’t. I’ll call them and re-schedule
for you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“I love you” was the last thing she whispered
before drifting into the arms of sleep.

“I love you, too,” I returned and kissed her
lightly on the forehead.

I waited a few more minutes before deciding
to go in search of Ben. I attempted to retrace our steps in coming
to this room and as I had not paid attention, quickly became lost.
As I rounded a corner, I came upon what resembled a small break
room and was almost immediately bowled over as a red-faced Allison
Storm rushed angrily past me. I looked after her then peered into
the open doorway, only to find Ben, hands in his pockets and
hangdog expression creasing his face. Something was definitely
wrong between the two of them. I assumed it was the amount of time
he was spending on this case and that I had just witnessed the tail
end of an argument it had caused.

“You okay?” I queried as I stepped through
the doorway.

“What? Yeah.” He looked up and noticed me.
“Yeah, I’m fine. How’s the squaw?”

“She woke up for a minute or two,” I replied.
“She’s doing okay, considering. Oh, and I guessed right. She went
over there because she wanted to help Cally.”

“Sounds like her.”

“You sure you’re okay?” I asked again and
hooked my thumb over my shoulder. “You seem a little preoccupied,
and Allison looked kind of irritated...”

“Yeah, I’m good.” He pulled his hands from
his pockets and straightened from where he had been leaning against
the wall. “She’s okay. It’s just been a rough day for ‘er. Hell,
for all of us.”

I decided not to push any further out of
respect for my friend. If he and his wife were having problems, it
was none of my business unless he chose to tell me. If he made that
choice, I would be there to listen, no questions asked.

“So,” I changed the subject, “that phone call
get you anywhere? Did you find anything out?”

“Oh yeah.” He brightened noticeably. “They
were in the lobby. Seems the son-of-a-bitch is in surgery right
this minute, in this very hospital.”

“Surgery?” I puzzled. “What happened, did
they shoot him?”

“Nope.” Ben explained, “Seems the idiot went
over a fence when they were chasin’ ‘im and landed smack in the
middle of a dog pen. Apparently, the pit bull livin’ in it at the
time was not pleased.”

“How bad?” I grimaced.

“Sounds REAL bad,” he answered. “It took ‘em
awhile ta’ get the dog off ‘im. Unfortunately, they ended up havin’
ta’ drop the hammer on it.”

“Is he going to live?”

“Don’t know. Benson—that’s the copper that I
talked to—told me the doc said he’d lost a lot of blood. It’s
pretty much touch and go right now.”

“The threefold return,” I muttered under my
breath.

“What was that?” Ben asked.

“The threefold return,” I pronounced more
clearly. “It’s a belief we Witches have, that everything we do will
return to us threefold. Good or Bad.”

“Yeah. What goes around comes around. You’ve
said that before. So?”

“So Devon sacrificed a dog,” I explained.

Ben looked at me, and his eyes widened as the
irony behind what I had just said sunk in. When he finally opened
his mouth, all he could say was “Oh.”

W
hile Felicity slept, Ben and I executed a roughly
choreographed shuffle of vehicles: first, driving my wife’s Jeep
from Cally’s house back to where it belonged then retrieving my
truck from behind the police station. He remained silent and
distant as we drove about, completing the tasks, keeping his eyes
glued to the road before him and saying only as much as necessary.
I didn’t like seeing him like this, but I knew I could only wait
until he was ready to talk, for anything else would only drive him
further into his world of introspection. I mutely reassured myself
that everything would work out between Ben and Allison and that all
would return to normalcy soon. Besides, I had my own pain to
contend with.

“So, what’s the plan?” I asked him.

We were standing next to my vehicle on the
parking lot of the police station. It was still early afternoon,
and the bright sun had only recently begun the downward portion of
its arc through the sky. A light breeze blew in, tousling Ben’s
already disheveled hair as he looked back at me wearily.

“I’ll see if the search warrant has been
issued for R.J.’s place,” he sighed. “And we’ll be waitin’ to hear
from the hospital about Devon. Other than that, it’s business as
usual.”

“I know we’ve been down this road before,
Ben,” I ventured, “but I really believe R.J. is innocent. You
aren’t going to find anything at his place.”

“For his sake, I hope you’re right,” he
acknowledged. “But, I still have a job to do, and I wouldn’t be
much of a cop if I didn’t follow all the leads. Look, Row, I’d like
ta’ agree with you, but even you hafta admit the fingerprint on the
bottom of that candle is pretty incriminatin’.”

“Yeah. It is,” I agreed, “but I’m sure
there’s an explanation for it.”

“Lemme know if ya’ think of a reasonable
one,” Ben returned.

We stood a little longer, silently staring at
one another. Tension still radiated from my friend, and I felt
there was something he wished to say but couldn’t find the words.
The sounds of sirens being tested filled the wordless void around
us as shifts changed and squad cars entered and left the lot.

Finally, I broke the speechless interlude.
“So, you’ll call me if anything turns up?”

“Yeah, I’ll let ya’ know,” he told me with a
nod then added, “Give Felicity my best and... Tell ‘er… Tell ‘er
I’m sorry.”

“I’ll do that.”

* * * * *

Ben had already disappeared into the door of
the police station by the time I backed out of my parking space and
shifted into forward motion. I reached over and turned up the radio
as I pulled out of the lot. I hung a quick right and melded with
the traffic then pointed myself in the direction of home. Before
returning to the hospital, I still needed to call Felicity’s client
to re-schedule as well as put together an overnight bag for her,
just in case.

The last few nondescript
chords of a song I didn’t recognize filtered to my ears, and a DJ’s
voice blended in behind them. Before she had a chance to tell me
the name of the song I had just ignored, I punched a preset and
switched to the local
National Public
Radio
affiliate. I was looking for
something other than the events of this day to occupy my mind—even
if only for a few moments.

* * * * *

The afternoon faded slowly into evening, and
the end of visiting hours approached at an ever-quickening pace.
Once Felicity had returned to wakefulness, I spent the evening
filling her in on the events that had occurred with R.J. This did
little to improve her demeanor, so I elected to leave out the
incident with Ben and Allison for the time being. As if my news
weren’t enough, the doctor assigned to her case chose to keep her
overnight for observation despite her vehement and very animated
protestations. The rest of my evening was spent listening to her
grumble.

When the nurse finally decided to eject me
from the room, I kissed my still fuming wife goodbye and promised
to return bright and early the next morning.

* * * * *

I arrived home to a sedate household—the dogs
moping about listlessly, and the wide-eyed cats lined up along the
windowsill, ears twisting like radar dishes searching for even the
most remote sign of Felicity. Anyone who tells you that animals
don’t sense when something is wrong, or that they can’t show
concern, has definitely never owned a pet.

I tended to their various needs of being let
out and in, food, water, and generous amounts of attention before
locking up for the night. The house felt empty and hollow without
Felicity. We had been separated before but never under
circumstances such as these. Never, at a time when among my
greatest fears was that of going to sleep—going to sleep and facing
another nightmare.

I put on a pot of coffee and stubbornly
decided that I would wait out the night. I would read, play
solitaire, watch old movies, but under no circumstances would I
allow myself to re-live Ariel’s death in my dreams. Of course,
everyone knows about the best-laid plans of mice and men.

My first mistake was choosing to sit on the
couch while waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. My second
mistake was allowing my eyelids to close as exhaustion crept up on
me.

Darkness.

Darkness without shape or form.

Cold, bone chilling darkness from the heart
of nowhere.

I was floating.

I was falling.

I was screaming.

“
Rowan.” Ariel, once again in a white lace
gown, smiled brightly at me. “Have a seat. It’s been so long since
I’ve read for you.”

I was sitting. It was sudden. The movement
disjointed. I didn’t recall moving to the chair.

I was sitting.

Ariel smiled at me across the table. A table
that until moments before had never existed. Her face was vibrant,
her eyes bright and alive. Her strawberry-blonde hair lofted gently
on a cool breeze. In her dainty hands, she held an oversized deck
of cards. A deck of tarot cards. I watched as she shuffled them
quickly. Or did she? Her hands never moved.

“
This represents him,” she said aloud,
looking down at the center of the table.

The Knight of Cups.

“
No, Ariel. The Knight of Cups is not my
significator,” I try to tell her. “It doesn’t represent
me.”

My words fall soundlessly to the floor like
a grotesque parody of a children’s cartoon.

“
This covers him.” She continues to look
only at the table.

The Devil.

She’s not reading for me.

She’s reading for the killer.

“
This crosses him,” she continues.

The Tower.

I watch the cards intently.

“
Rowan, how nice to see you,” a lilting
voice comes from behind me.

I turn.

Ariel is smiling at me. A dark shape, hooded
and malevolent, moves behind her. I want to warn her, but I know
that I can’t.

Crimson spreads across the white lace.

“
Why, Rowan? Why?” her gurgling voice
calls to me.

Darkness.

Dull black void.

“
Hey, Mister,” a tiny voice asserts
itself.

I turn and look down.

A young girl. Silky, strawberry-blonde hair
tied back with white bows. A white lace dress encases her. She
looks up at me with large, sad eyes. A familiar deck of cards is
clutched tightly in her tiny hand. She holds it out, offering them
to me. I take the cards.

“
Why don’t you stop the bad man?” the
child asks.

Before I can reply, she is gone.

I spin about in search of her and find only
darkness. I look back to the deck of tarot cards in my hand. They
seem so tiny. I turn over the top card.