Love Is The Bond: A Rowan Gant Investigation (42 page)

As he was snapping them shut, I heard him
quietly say to her, “Felicity, listen ta’ me carefully, and do
exactly what I tell ya’. Just acknowledge your rights, and then
don’t say another word. Do ya’ hear me?”

“Detective Storm!” the other man said.

“Fuck off,” my friend barked, shooting a hard
stare at the other cop.

Thick silence filled in behind the outburst,
and he turned back to Felicity. His voice slipped into an official
tenor, droning through a flat monotone.

As he spoke, his words bit into my skull,
raping my ears with the vile reason for their existence.

“You have the right to remain silent and
refuse to answer questions. Do you understand?…”

Saturday, November 19

10:05 A.M.

Saint Louis, Missouri

The man hadn’t slept in better than
twenty-four hours. Not since he had awakened early Friday morning.
His eyes were bloodshot, and his face sagged with exhaustion, but
sleep simply wouldn’t come. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw
her face.

Her face as it grew even paler than her ivory
skin could possibly be…

Her eyes as she looked to him for salvation
he was unable to give…

Her lips as she plead with him, calling his
name even though they were beginning to tremble…

Her mask of fear as she was placed in
restraints and hastily led away from him…

He sighed heavily and felt the pain well deep
within once again. The sadness was overwhelming, and all he really
wanted to do was sit and cry. But, he couldn’t. There were no more
tears left. He had already used them all.

Besides, crying wasn’t going to do any good,
and he knew that. He just wasn’t sure what would.

Sharp sound split the silence. The phone was
ringing, rattling through the house with a haunting echo. After
three repetitions, there was a click, and the outgoing message from
the answering machine spilled into the room.

“You have reached the Gant and O’Brien
household, please leave a message…”

There was a short pause, and it was then
followed by a high-pitched electronic tone. On its heels came an
angry male voice affected with a harsh Irish accent. “You damn
bastard!… I know you’re there!… Pick up the phone!… This is all
your fault, Rowan Gant! You and your Godlessness!… Damn your eyes,
you bastard! Look what you’ve done to her! Look what you’ve done to
my daughter!”

A heavy click came immediately behind the
angry words as the phone at the calling end was slammed down. This
wasn’t the first message of that sort that had been left, and it
was sure not to be the last.

Even so, the man ignored it just like all the
rest.

He continued moving through the seemingly
empty house, trudging about with no particular mission in mind. The
place was an absolute wreck. Emptied drawers, upturned cushions.
Visible carnage where the police had executed their search warrant,
seizing everything from articles of her clothing to some of the
books that he had checked out of the local library.

Through it all, a man he called his best
friend stood watching, an unspoken apology obvious in his eyes.

Once again, the telephone began to peal,
interrupting the man’s anguish with its unwanted bid for attention.
The last bell in the trio of rings ended, and the machine burped
its greeting once again. This time, in the wake of the tone, a
wholly different voice issued from the speaker. One that was
authoritative, feminine, and possessed of a heavy Southern
accent.

“I am calling for a Mister Rowan Gant,” the
woman announced. “I picked up a message from my office that he was
trying to reach me. My name is Doctor Velvet Rieth, and I can…”

The man had the phone off the hook before she
could complete the sentence.

It can only get worse before it gets
better,

and Rowan Gant knows that more than
anyone…

The Miranda Trilogy Continues

A Rowan Gant Investigation

Novel number seven

In the best selling

RGI Series

An active member of the HWA (Horror Writers
Association), M. R. Sellars is a relatively unassuming homebody who
considers himself just a “guy with a lot of nightmares and a word
processing program.” His first full-length novel, Harm None, hit
bookstore shelves in 2000 and he hasn’t stopped writing since. He
says that the biggest adjustment he has had to make with his
writing career is coping with the time spent away from his family
while traveling on promotional tours. Still, he approaches it with
the same humorously deadpan and occasionally acerbic wit that he
applies to life in general.

All of the current novels in Sellars’
continuing Rowan Gant Investigations saga have spent several
consecutive weeks on numerous bookstore bestseller lists as well as
a consistent showing on the Amazon.com Horror/Occult top 100.

Sellars currently resides in the Midwest with
his wife, daughter, and a host of what he describes as “rescued,
geriatric, special-needs felines.” At home, when not writing or
taking care of the household, he indulges his passions for cooking
and hanging out with friends.

M. R. Sellars can be found on the web at:

www.mrsellars.com

Brainpan Leakage the M. R. Sellars Satire Blog

www.brainpanleakage.com

OTHER BOOKS BY M. R. SELLARS

The Rowan Gant Investigations

HARM NONE

NEVER BURN A WITCH

PERFECT TRUST

THE LAW OF THREE

CRONE’S MOON

LOVE IS THE BOND

ALL ACTS OF PLEASURE

THE END OF DESIRE

BLOOD MOON

MIRANDA

(Available in both print and e-book editions)

Other

YOU’RE GONNA THINK I’M NUTS…

(Novelette included in Courting Morpheus Horror
Anthology)

MERRIE AXEMAS: A KILLER HOLIDAY TALE

(Novella)