Harm None: A Rowan Gant Investigation (40 page)

When I opened my eyes, I was looking directly
at the back wall. Across the normally pristine white tiles, dark
crimson strokes inscribed—

ALL IS FORGIVEN

—A sour, cackling laugh filled my ears, and
the water against my back suddenly felt oddly thick. I looked down
at my chest where it splashed across my shoulders and saw blood,
viscid and hot, dripping from my skin.

I tried to escape the horror, only to find
the shower curtain had become solid and unyielding. I began to
pound on it wildly, screaming for my wife, as the enclosure quickly
began to fill with the sticky, crimson liquid. My cries remained
unheeded as the level reached my chest, then my chin, until
finally, I was submerged. My throat and lungs began to burn, and I
was starting to black out. No longer able to hold my breath, I was
about to face my own innermost fear. I was drowning.

I awoke screaming.

Felicity was over me, firmly grasping my
shoulders and shaking me into consciousness. “Rowan, wake up!
Rowan!”

I bolted upright on the couch, steeped in my
own sweat. The cool breeze from a nearby register sent a shiver up
my spine as the air conditioner followed orders from the thermostat
and worked to maintain the temperature.

Soft morning light was beginning to filter in
between the slats of the mini blinds covering our windows, bringing
a murky pallor to my surroundings. My wife, clad in an oversized
t-shirt, was staring back at me with the same gentle concern I had
seen in her eyes just one night before.

“Another nightmare?” she asked rhetorically,
sitting back on the edge of the sofa.

“Yeah,” I sighed, “a weird one. Whatever you
do, don’t tell me it’s almost noon, and Ben called to tell me
thanks.”

“Why would I?”

I heard a muffled series of barks, telling me
that the dogs wanted to be let back in. For some reason, that
familiar noise, added to my wife’s puzzled expression and my
overall feeling as if I had been beaten severely with a
two-by-four, was the evidence I needed to tell me I was actually,
truly awake this time.

“It’s a long story,” I told her.

* * * * *

After a shower that began hesitantly, I
relinquished the remaining hot water to Felicity and prepared a
quick breakfast. Over eggs scrambled with broccoli and Swiss
cheese, a side of turkey bacon, and coffee, she and I discussed the
events of the past evening. For the most part, the discussion was
one-sided, with me doing the talking and her doing the listening as
I filled her in on the details of the assault on Roger’s house,
followed by those of the doubly bizarre nightmare. The latter
accounting, I recorded in my Book of Shadows as I went.

“I got a call from a client last night,”
Felicity announced while we put away the freshly washed dishes.
“Apparently, they lined up a last minute product shoot with some
model that’s only available today.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be fine,” I answered her
unspoken question.

“Are you sure, then?” she posed. “I can refer
it over to Hartley. He owes me one anyway.”

“Really. I’ll be fine,” I assured her.
“There’s no need in both of us sitting around here staring at the
walls. I don’t know if there’s much more either of us can do to
help Ben right now anyway. Besides, like I said, Agent Mandalay
isn’t exactly my number one fan.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

I helped her load the Jeep and waved goodbye
as she backed out slowly and went on her way. The landscape around
me was growing brighter as the sun crept higher in the morning sky,
chasing away the dimly shimmering globe of the moon—the moon that
was less than twenty-four hours from full.

* * * * *

I called Ben shortly after Felicity left and
was told that he was following up leads in the field. After leaving
a message for him, I resigned myself to performing what had become
the more mundane tasks in my life—support calls, returning email,
and even some minor house cleaning. Don’t get me wrong, I was
actually looking forward to returning to the everyday normalcy, but
not until this whole thing was over and done with.

It was approaching three in the afternoon
when the phone rang. Ben was on the other end, returning my
call.

“So, any good news?” I queried into the
handset.

“No,” he told me, “not really. The parents
made a positive ID on the little girl’s dress. And they found a
spot where the floor had been dug up in the corner, but that’s
about it.”

“That’s where he buried the hearts he took
from the victims,” I stated mechanically.

“Yeah... It wasn’t pleasant... Oh, and that
tip ya’ gave us on the syringe. We found it right where ya’ said it
would be. Lab showed traces of a sedative called Diazepam.”

“Not the curare?”

“No,” he returned. “Seemed off to me too, so
I asked the doc about it. Apparently, that stuff paralyzes the
blink response, and he would have to use some kinda artificial
lubricant to keep her eyes from dryin’ out. Also, repeated doses
could build up in ‘er system and cause respiratory failure. Sounded
kinda high maintenance for someone tryin’ ta’ duck the cops.”

“But it makes sense,” I
volunteered. “He doesn’t want her injured. I’m convinced of that.
In my vision, he kept referring to her as
The One
. As odd as it may sound, he
holds her in very high reverence. She has to be pristine for the
ritual, but he also has to keep her under wraps until the full
moon.”

“Yeah, it sounds odd all right, ‘specially
when ya’ consider what he plans to do to ‘er in this ritual thing.”
There was a lengthy pause at his end. I could almost see him trying
to form his words. “So listen, Row. About that whole hocus-pocus
thing last night. What did’ya mean when ya’ said ya’ don’t know if
he’s better than you or not?”

“I meant exactly that. I don’t know.”

“But I thought you were some
kinda
Master Witch
or somethin’,” he appealed. “Like a Black Belt of Witch stuff.
Ya’know what I mean?”

“There’s no such thing, Ben. The Craft is a
continual learning process.”

“That still doesn’t tell me why ya’ think
he’s better’n you.”

“Something happened during that vision that
took me by surprise. I’ve never experienced anything like it
before, and to be honest, it bothered me quite a bit.”

“Wanna talk about it? After everything I’ve
seen lately, I’m willin’ ta’ listen.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath and let it puff
out my cheeks as I exhaled. “But you might not want to hear it. If
I’m right, I could be the reason he knew we were coming.”

“How so?”

“Well,” I continued, “you understand that
when I’ve had these visions at the crime scenes, they were
recreations of the recent past, right?”

“Yeah, go on.”

“That’s the kind of vision I had at Roger’s
house but with a major exception. He talked to me.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“In the vision,” I
explained, “Roger spoke directly to me. He told me that I hadn’t
been there to save Ariel Tanner, and there was no way I’d be able
to save
The One
. He
looked right at me. Called me by name.”

There was a long pause at the other end of
the line as he mulled over my latest revelations. “So lemme get
this straight...” His words were measured carefully. “Ya’think that
when you had that vision, you like went back in time or somethin’?
And he saw ya’ there and knew you were comin’?”

“No, not at all,” I corrected. “I had a
vision of something that happened in the recent past. I think Roger
knew we were close because of me. Because of the energies I’ve been
giving off.”

“So, what about this bit where he was talkin’
to ya’? I still don’t get it. Where does that fit in?”

“I think that since he knew we would be
coming, and he knew that I would be there, in a sense, he was
waiting for me. He insinuated himself into the vision.”

“You mean he was there?!” Ben’s voice became
instantly more animated.

“Not in the physical sense,” I expressed,
“but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was nearby.”

“Shit! That’s all I needed to hear.” The
animation in his voice was replaced by calm dejection. “So the fact
that you think he somehow got ‘imself into your vision is what’s
got ya’ thinkin’ you somehow tipped him off.”

“That’s my theory.”

“Well, don’t let the ice princess hear that,”
he expressed, referring to Special Agent Mandalay. “She’s still
givin’ me a royal pain in the ass about your involvement in this
case. She doesn’t need any more ammunition.”

“How are you two getting along today?” I
queried out of a mild curiosity.

“Like oil and water. Ya didn’t expect any
different did’ya?” he admitted.

“You know, Ben, she’s just doing her job. You
took a lot of convincing about The Craft as I recall.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he conceded. “I just
don’t have time for it right now… What? Hold on a sec...” I heard
him stave off a muted voice in the background. “Listen, I gotta go.
You’ll call me if you have another vision or somethin’?”

“You’ll be the first.”

“Okay. I’ll check back in with ya’ as soon as
we know somethin’. Later.”

“Bye.”

I lied. Sort of.

If anything relevant came into my mind via
any means, conscious thought or ethereal vision, I would certainly
call Ben immediately. However, I had carefully avoided telling him
about my most recent dream. If my theory about Roger entering my
vision was correct, then I was firmly convinced that he had entered
my nightmare as well. It was my belief that he was responsible for
the bizarre secondary sequence. He was trying to frighten me, and
that was the chink in his armor. He was just as unsure about me as
I was about him.

I didn’t tell Ben about it. I hadn’t even
told Felicity the entire story. I was the only one that knew
because it was something I was going to have to face on my own.

I
expected Ben to have someone watching Roger’s house, and I had
no idea whatsoever how I was going to handle the situation;
therefore, I was somewhat surprised when the neighborhood seemed
devoid of surveillance. Of course, that was just how it appeared on
the surface.

The digital clock on the in-dash stereo had
just flicked over to seven P.M. when I pulled down the Overmoor
side street. Felicity had called me earlier to say the photo shoot
was running late and that she probably wouldn’t be home until after
nine. I didn’t tell her as much, but I was actually glad she’d be
out late. I was certain that had she been present, she would have
done everything in her power to talk me out of what I was about to
do.

She can be very persuasive.

After a couple of slow passes through the
subdivision, I rolled my truck to a stop behind the evergreen
hedgerow we had used for cover the night before and switched off
the engine. I waited in silence, my view of the house slightly
obscured, and fought to gather the courage I desperately
needed.

I had come here for a purpose. Roger had
invaded both my vision and my nightmare. In the vision, he had
demonstrated his overconfidence by taunting me and issuing a
challenge. In my nightmare, he hedged his bet, playing on my fears
in order to frighten me away. It might have worked had it not been
for three haunting words—“Why, Rowan, why?” In every nightmare,
Ariel Tanner appeared before me and asked that question. I had come
to fear that most of all each time I drifted off to sleep, simply
because I didn’t have the answer. I couldn’t tell her, “Why.” I
couldn’t even tell myself because I wasn’t even sure what she was
asking. As nonsensical as it seemed, something deep inside kept
telling me that if this little girl died, it would be my fault. My
fault because I hadn’t tried hard enough to find the answer to
“Why?”

I was so deeply lost in my thoughts that my
heart skipped a full beat when I heard the sudden tapping on my
window. I snapped back from my distant stare with a startled jump
and quickly turned. Carl Deckert was standing outside my window,
hand raised as he prepared to rap his knuckles on the glass once
again.

“Hey. How’s it going?” I asked with a smile
as I rolled the window downward.

“Okay, if you like sitting around watching an
empty house while a lonely old lady talks your ear off,” he
replied. “If you don’t mind my asking, what’re you doin’ here?”

His answer told me why I hadn’t spotted the
surveillance. They must have set up shop in the house across the
street. The one whose occupant Roger had thought of as the “nosy
old bitch.”

“Ben asked me to come out here and have
another look at the place,” I spoke quickly, hoping he wouldn’t see
through to the truth. “He wanted me to see if I could pick up
anything else that might help.”

“Why didn’t he come with you?” he asked
suspiciously.

I said the first thing that popped into my
mind, and it actually sounded pretty good. “He said something about
keeping that FBI agent busy, so she wouldn’t get in the way.”

“Yeah, those two are a piece of work,” he
grunted. “She was there waiting for him this morning. They still
hadn’t stopped chewing on each other when I left. I guess he
probably just forgot to tell me you were coming.”

“Could be,” I said aloud, while inside my
head I was saying, “Don’t call him. Don’t call him.”

He grinned and nodded, “Yeah, that’s probably
it. Hell, this guy’s not gonna show up here anyway. You want me to
go in with you?”

I breathed an inner sigh of relief. “No.
That’s okay. I’ll be all right by myself.”

Detective Deckert gave me a slight shrug as I
climbed out of the truck’s cab and shut the door. “Suit yourself.
I’ll be right here across the street if you need me.”