The End Of Desire: A Rowan Gant Investigation

by M. R. Sellars

  “Something wrong?” I asked.

  “Get your coats,” he replied.

  “Why?” Felicity asked.

  “‘Cause it’s cold outside,” he told her.

  “Why are we…”

  “Just get your coats,” he repeated. “We’re goin’ ta’ break some rules.”

  CHAPTER 42:

  Ben exited the highway and pulled the van into Forest Park then moved with the flow of traffic until he could swing into the zoo parking lot. He hadn’t been particularly forthcoming with answers to any of our questions, so both Felicity and I had eventually given up and simply rode along in silence. It was obvious to us where we were going. What our taciturn friend had in mind, however, remained a mystery.

  He slowly pulled around the lot, bypassing several empty spaces until he came back around and located one with a halfway decent view of the zoo entrance. Nosing in, he shut off the lights and engine then cracked his side window to keep the windshield from fogging over. He simply stared through the glass, watching the entrance without saying a word.

  After about a minute, I said, “I take it we aren’t getting out.”

  “Nope. Not yet, anyway,” he replied then glanced over his shoulder and said, “Felicity, hand me that bag that’s in the seat next to ya’.”

  My wife felt around in the dark and then passed a paper bag forward. I twisted in my seat and took it from her then handed it to Ben.

  “Dinner?” I asked with a note of sarcasm, as he took it.

  He opened the top of the bag then pulled out a handheld walkie-talkie and switched it on.

  “No. It’s stuff,” he grunted as he ramped up the volume into the audible range then started clicking through the preset channels.

  “…ear so far,” a familiar female voice crackled from the speaker. “How’s my signal?”

  He stopped and listened intently.

  “Reading you loud and clear,” a male voice replied.

  “Okay, I’m approaching the entrance,” Constance’s voice came back across the air.

  “Lawson has a visual on you,” the man told her.

  Ben upped the volume on the walkie-talkie a bit more then laid it on the console between us.

  “Okay, I see you,” the man responded a few seconds later. “Washburn will pick you up once you’re inside. He’ll hand you off to Frye at the Bayou Bullfrog display.”

  “Good. Any sign of her yet?”

  “Negative.”

  The radio crackled with a burst of static then fell silent for the moment. I looked over at Ben who had directed his stare back out the windshield.

  “Where did you get that?” I asked.

  “It’s police stuff,” he replied.

  “That isn’t your regular radio, Ben.”

  “I got a new one.”

  “In a brown paper bag?”

  “Recycled packaging,” he returned.

  “That’s not police stuff. It’s FBI stuff,” I said.

  “Real cops got ‘em too,” he said, verbally hinting at his selective lack of respect for the federal agency.

  “Yeah… Why am I not buying that?”

  He gave me a half shrug but didn’t avert his gaze from the entrance. “Hey, she wasn’t gonna be usin’ it.”

  “You stole that from Constance?” Felicity asked.

  “Borrowed,” he replied. “There’s a difference. Besides, ain’t you the one who wanted us ta’ break the rules?”

  “So we came here to listen?” she asked.

  “We came here so when they take ‘er down, I can get ya’ a few minutes with ‘er before they throw ‘er in a really dark hole.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked.

  “Look, Constance’ll try ta’ make it happen, just like she said she would. But, I ain’t countin’ on it. Once the Feebs got their hands on ‘er, things are gonna get real tight. She off’ed a federal judge, remember?”

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  “So, the real deal is this might be the only chance ya’ get. I’m just evenin’ the odds.”

  “So, how much trouble is this going…”

  The radio crackled and he held up a hand to shush me.

  “Mandalay is in line at the gate,” the earlier voice announced.

  “Ten-four,” another voice responded.

  The device hissed then settled back into silence for the moment.

  “What?” Ben asked, glancing over at me.

  “How much trouble is this going to cause for you?” I repeated.

  “Didn’t ya’ say this’s what it’s gonna take ta’ get rid of the ghost bitch?”

  “In theory.”

  “Well, then let’s hope your theory’s right.”

  “You’re still going to get into trouble though, aren’t you?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he replied. “I’m pretty much already suspended.”

  “The phone call earlier?”

  “Yeah. S’posed ta’ have a meetin’ tomorrow mornin’. But, that’s just a formality. Unless I’m completely off base, it’s pretty much all over except the paperwork. Lookin’ like thirty days, no pay.”

  “I really appreciate this, Ben,” Felicity said.

  “Yeah, I’ll remember that.”

  “Just remind me if I try to bite you again,” she quipped.

  “Uh-huh,” he grunted. “What was that you told me? Oh yeah, like that’d work. Why don’t ya’ just make sure ya’ invite me over ta’ dinner a lot for the next month. And, maybe get me somethin’ real nice for Christmas too.”

  The radio crackled and hissed, then Constance’s voice issued from the speaker once again. “I’m in and I see Washburn. Heading for the carousel now.”

  A new voice followed. “I’ve got Mandalay. Everything’s clear.”

  My head was starting to throb with a fresh round of stabs in the back of my skull. While, as usual, the chronic ache had never fully subsided, it had at least faded into the background for the most part once Felicity was back on an even keel. Now, it was returning with a vengeance.

  “She’s here,” I said.

  “Where?” Ben asked, scanning the distant crowd of people who were still waiting to enter through the gates. “Do ya’ see ‘er?”

  “No,” I replied. “But, I feel her.”

  “Fuckin’ wonderful,” he replied. “Well, at least we know she wasn’t blowin’ smoke about showin’ up.”

  A handful of minutes oozed by, and the radio crackled again.

  “Frye, you should be able to see Mandalay in about ten seconds.”

  A female voice answered a moment later. “I’ve got her. Clear so far.”

  “Who’s covering the carousel?” Constance’s voice blipped in.

  “Book is on the left at the concession stand,” the earlier voice replied. “Tamm is in the seating area making like a mommy.”

  “I don’t like it,” Constance replied. “Too many civilians. Especially children. Where’s our takedown point?”

  “When approached, try to lead her back the way you’re coming in. We’ll move when there’s an opportunity.”

  “And, if she doesn’t follow?”

  A long span of silence filled in behind her question. Finally, the radio crackled again and the man replied, “We follow her.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  The radio hissed then fell quiet. We simply waited since there was nothing else we could do.

  After a couple of minutes, Ben asked, “You still feelin’ ‘er?”

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Like a hammer to the back of the head.”

  “What about you, Firehair?” he queried.

  “Mmhmm,” she hummed.

  I turned and gave her a curious glance. She had been especially quiet for the past few minutes, and a wordless response wasn’t like her at all. She caught my gaze and simply raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “Are you doing okay, honey?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  Before I could press her further, the radio cr
ackled again.

  “Book, you should be able to see Mandalay now,” Frye’s voice came over the air.

  “Acknowledged. Okay, I see her,” a male voice replied. “Tamm?”

  “Ten-four. I see her,” another woman said, her voice low against a backdrop of the calliope-like music from the carousel.

  Fifteen or so seconds passed and the radio burped again.

  “Heads up. We have a possible target approaching from the south,” came Frye’s voice. “Red hair… Black, full-length leather coat at my three o’clock.”

  “Right on time,” Constance said, her voice also now underscored by the bright tune of the amusement ride.

  “I see her,” Tamm acknowledged.

  The announcement served to instantly ratchet up the level of tension in the van. Knowing how I was feeling at this moment, I didn’t even want to imagine what it was like for Constance and the rest of the agents.

  “I’m on her,” Frye announced after a desperately long thirty seconds.

  “Make sure you give her some room,” Book’s voice came across. “If it’s her, we don’t want her spooked.”

  “Got it.”

  Another half minute crept past at what seemed like greatly reduced speed. The hammering inside my skull was starting to make me feel nauseous, and I found myself wishing for an economy-sized bottle of aspirin. I waited, my ears straining to hear anything at all, as if some quiet transmission might escape my notice. I knew I was holding my breath, but I didn’t care.

  “False alarm,” Constance’s voice suddenly blipped from the speaker. “Not her.”

  “Dammit,” I muttered, as I allowed the oxygen-depleted air to sigh from my lungs.

  I looked at my watch and saw that it was 8:04.

  “The real adrenalin doesn’t kick in quite yet,” Ben offered. “Believe me.”

  According to my watch, it was 8:15 before the radio crackled back to life.

  “Male subject approaching Mandalay,” Frye announced. “Brown hair, blue over white jacket.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  “Probably some fuck gonna hit on ‘er,” Ben grumbled.

  Three minutes later, the radio burped with Constance’s voice, “Subject handed me a note. He said a woman paid him fifty dollars to deliver it. He said she told him to look for someone who looked just like her waiting at the carousel at eight-fifteen and that her name would be Felicity. Sounds like our girl. I guess she wanted to size me up.”

  “Did he give you a location for her?” a male voice asked over the air.

  “He pointed toward the storyteller’s area back down the path, but he said that was about forty-five minutes ago. I’m looking but I can’t see her. Too many people. But, it’s a good bet she’s watching from somewhere nearby to make sure the note got delivered.”

  “Frye?”

  “Nothing. I’m moving that way now.”

  “What does the note say?”

  “It’s one of the map handouts,” she replied, her voice still muddied by the carousel music. “Display number eight has been circled.”

  “Eight is the Glacier motion simulator. It’s closed for maintenance,” the male voice said.

  “I guess she wants some privacy after all,” Constance replied.

  “We’ll need time to move into position,” the voice came back.

  “She’s sure to be watching,” Constance said. “I don’t want her to get cold feet, so I’m going to start that way now.”

  The radio hissed for a moment, then the voice answered, “Don’t get in a hurry… We need to reposition. Book, you tail Mandalay.”

  “Already moving,” he replied.

  “Tamm, you fall in behind Book.”

  “It’s not going to look right if we have too many people moving into a closed area,” Constance announced. “Keep some distance.”

  “Acknowledged,” Tamm said. “Hanging back.”

  A minute passed then Constance’s voice came across in a low tone, “There’s a huge crowd at the forest exhibit, and they’re blocking the path. It’s going to take me a minute to get through.”

  Book’s voice burped in behind hers, but it was partially drowned out by the sound of the aforementioned crowd. All that really came through was, “Dam-t, -st Man-lay.”

  “Say again?”

  “The crowd,” he repeated, the transmission somewhat clearer. “I’ve lost Mandalay. She was…”

  Before he finished the sentence, the muffled report of something that sounded far too much like gunshots popped loudly from the speaker followed immediately by panicked screaming.

  “Shots fired!” his frantic voice fell in behind.

  “Everybody move!” the other voice ordered. “Now!”

  Seconds later Book’s voice was shouting across the radio again, devoid of all composure, “SHOTS FIRED! MANDALAY’S HIT! OFFICER DOWN! OFFICER DOWN!”

  If adrenalin hadn’t been dumping into Ben’s system before, it definitely was now. He came fully upright in his seat as the frantic chatter continued to burst from the radio.

  The device hissed for a second, then we heard Book exclaim, “JESUS CHRIST… JESUS CHRIST… ONE GOT PAST HER VEST! SHE’S BLEEDING BAD! WE NEED PARAMEDICS RIGHT NOW!”

  CHAPTER 43:

  “GODFUCKINDAMMIT!” Ben yelped the curse as a single word before launching into, “GODDAMN FEEBS CAN’T DO ANYTHING RIGHT! SONOFABITCH!”

  I was so dumbstruck that I couldn’t make any words of my own come out of my mouth. I simply looked at him with a horrified expression as the radio continued to belch frantic chatter.

  “Book! What is your exact location?!”

  “Just outside the forest exhibit! Right before the path splits! Hurry!”

  “Found the gun,” Frye’s voice blipped over the air. “But no shooter. The area is clear. She must have dispersed with the crowd.”

  “Washburn, cover southeast,” a voice ordered. “If she didn’t go past Book and Frye, then she has to be heading that way. I’m on the main path coming in toward you.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  “We’re locking down the park,” another voice added. “SWAT will be here in two.”

  The device continued to burp and hiss with various voices for a moment, all of them reporting that there was no sign of Annalise. There was a quick burst of silence, then one of the agents came across the speaker, “I’ve got something. Red wig in a trashcan outside the restrooms near the stuffed animal workshop… Be advised the subject may have changed her appearance.”

  “WHERE ARE THOSE PARAMEDICS?!” Book’s frenzied words bled through on the heels of the announcement

  “Mutherfuck,” Ben muttered, a jumbled mix of fear, anger, and desperation wrapped tightly into his voice. He was already half out of the van as he shouted at us, “Stay here!”

  He didn’t waste time closing the door, and the alarm chime was dinging incessantly to warn of the keys in the ignition, adding its irritating insistence to the already chaotic swirl of voices issuing from the radio. The crash I had felt coming was now exploding around me, and the outcome was as bad as I feared, if not worse.

  Sirens were filling the night air as they closed in on the park. Their urgent wails were bold punctuation for the overwhelming despair that was starting to tighten its grip around me.

  My heart was clogging my throat as I watched my friend take off across the street at a dead run toward the zoo entrance. I still couldn’t manage to form anything resembling coherent sentences out of the distressed thoughts rushing through my already tortured grey matter. I turned in my seat and looked at my wife.

  “Gods…” I whispered. “Felicity…”

  Instead of finding a similar grief stricken expression on her face as I had expected, what greeted me was a thin smile as she slowly shook her head. She looked into my eyes, then cocked her head to the side and clucked her tongue.

  “Chienne damnée,” she said with a fluid Southern accent. “I knew she was going to do that.”

  A fresh dose
of panic was injected into my veins as the haunting echo in her voice hit my ears. It dawned on me that I should have seen this coming, and that I now knew the reason Felicity had been keeping so quiet. Her body was here, but she wasn’t even present—and hadn’t been for several minutes. Miranda had seen to that. I can only imagine what my expression must have been as the realization washed over me, but whatever it was, it seemed to amuse her.

  “Surprised, little man?” she asked.

  Next to me the radio crackled. “This is Frye. I’ve got an open maintenance gate on the southeast corner. Washington drive, just north of Concourse.”

  “Lawson, your team has the parking area. Did you copy that?”

  “Ten-four. There are maybe twenty to thirty civilians on the lot. Parker, Bates, stay with the lot…”

  The rest of the broadcast faded into the background as I made a grab for my wife. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen when I got hold of her, but I knew if I didn’t, things could only get worse than they already were. As I twisted in her direction, she jumped back, shifting to the left and out of my reach. My seatbelt snapped tight as it achieved the end of its tether with a jarring stop, biting into the side of my neck and preventing me from moving any farther.

  Whipping back around, I fumbled with the latch, trying to pop it loose so that I could pull free of the restraint. But, I wasn’t fast enough. My wife seized the opportunity to scramble to the right, moving directly behind me toward the side door. At the same moment the catch released and I started swinging around again, the sound of the sliding door wrenching open with a heavy thud added itself to the insane concert of noises.

  I twisted back around and grabbed for the door handle, but the door didn’t budge. Reaching quickly, I pulled up the lock post, mentally cursing the older van and my penchant for habitually locking doors. The door popped open as I shouldered my way out of the vehicle and stumbled onto the lot. My wife now had a substantial head start, and she was gaining speed.

  I took off after her, pushing as hard as I could to catch up. My heart was already racing, but my earlier horror was now replaced by determination as my adrenal gland finally elected to dump its payload into my system.