“I was looking for answers,” I returned meekly.
“Answers to what?”
“Why. The answer to why. In every nightmare, Ariel asks me why.”
“You mean why is this asshole killin’ people?” His voice had lowered in volume, but my answer only served to raise it again. “Who knows? Maybe he walked in on his parents screwin’ when he was a kid. Maybe his high school prom date stood him up. They’ve got a million excuses these days. Why’s it fuckin’ matter now? We know who he is.”
“It might not matter at all.” I dabbed at my nostrils with a tissue. The bleeding had long since stopped, but the phantom tingling remained, making me feel as though it was starting all over again. “That might not even be the ‘why’ she is asking… I don’t know… It could just be her way of keeping me from giving up.”
“Let me get this straight.” Agent Mandalay was still leaning against the wall, arms folded across her chest. Her studious gaze hadn’t left me since we entered the room. “You jeopardized this investigation because you think a dead woman is talking to you in your dreams?”
“I didn’t jeopardize anything,” I told her matter-of-factly, avoiding a direct answer to her question. “Roger Henderson isn’t going to return to that house and we all know it.”
“You really do.” She stared back incredulously, reading between the lines of my non-answer. “You think you’re communicating with a ghost or something!” She turned to Ben and gesticulated at me as if I were on display. “That’s it! Now I’m officially convinced that he needs a psychiatrist. I want him off this investigation now.”
Ben started to protest angrily, “Hold on a minute, I...”
“NO! You hold on a minute, Storm,” she insisted vehemently, “I want him out of here.”
“This is still my investigation, and I say he stays.”
“Not anymore. Pursuant to the federal kidnapping statute of nineteen thirty-two, this case falls under the Bureau’s jurisdiction. It’s my investigation now.”
“C’mon,” Detective Deckert tried to interject, “Rowan’s right. This fruitcake wasn’t comin’ back to the house. It was a long shot and we knew it. I tell ya’, something real strange was happening in that place.”
She wheeled quickly around to face him. “Maybe you need an appointment with a shrink, too!”
“You weren’t there,” he shot back, “besides, whattabout last night? Rowan told us where ta’ find the little girl’s dress and all that.”
“Lucky guess,” she stated flatly and turned back to Ben. “I’m calling in to the field office to let them know I’m taking over this investigation. I want him out of here by the time I’m off the phone.”
None of us spoke for a long minute after Agent Mandalay stomped out of the room, slamming the door hard behind her. I winced slightly as the noise pierced my still aching head.
“Well,” Ben puffed out his cheeks as he sighed, “I guess that’s that.”
“I’m sorry, Ben,” I looked up from the floor. “For what it’s worth, I was just trying to help.”
“Hell, ya’ just gave her somethin’ else ta’ flex her muscles about,” he grunted. “She pretty much took over the investigation this afternoon anyway. Now she’s just makin’ it official.”
“I just wish I could remember the vision I had. I’m sure it means something.”
“Have you been able to remember any of it?” Deckert queried.
“Not really,” I answered. “Just something about not being able to breathe, but that could’ve been my own anxiety. I don’t know. If this headache would just go away...”
“Maybe if ya’ get some rest,” Ben volunteered. “You can always call me if you remember somethin’. You got my cell phone number.”
“Yeah, I can do that. I’m still sorry for causing all the trouble though.”
“Hey, no prob, white man,” he returned as he gazed through the thick window that was the top half of the door. “The dragon lady’s got nothin’ on what’s waitin’ out there for you.”
“Huh?” I gave him a confused grunt.
In answer, he simply pointed into the distance outside the window. I slipped my glasses back onto my face and stepped over next to him. Peering in the direction he indicated, I immediately saw what he was referring to.
Red hair tousled about, green eyes glowing harshly, and Irish temper fully aflame, Felicity was striding across the room.
CHAPTER 26
I told you I’ve already gone through this with Ben,” I explained to Felicity as she viciously up-shifted the Jeep and sped onto Highway 170, aiming north toward where my truck was still parked.
She had begun reading me the riot act from the moment we left the MCS command post. While we were still inside, I had been subjected to the patented Felicity O’Brien silent treatment. It was shaping up to be a very long night.
“Aye, but you haven’t gone through it with me!” she shot back angrily. “I come home to an empty house, no note or anything. The next thing I know, Ben is on the phone telling me that Carl is bringing you in to the station bleeding. What was I supposed to think?! What were YOU thinking?!”
“I told you already. I was looking for an answer.”
“You could have told me what you wanted to do when I called this afternoon.”
“Would you have agreed to it?”
“Maybe.”
“Be serious, dear.”
“That’s not the point!” she burst forth once again. “Whether or not I would have agreed to it has absolutely nothing to do with what you did. You lied to Carl and you lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie to you,” I told her. “I just didn’t tell you what I had planned.”
“Don’t split hairs. You know exactly what I meant!”
“You’ll want to exit up here at Page and hang a left,” I told her, as much to change the subject as to provide her with directions. It didn’t work.
“So what did you accomplish?” she demanded stonily.
With a downshift and quick spin of the wheel, she arced the Jeep through the green light at the bottom of the exit ramp and merged into the right lane.
“I had another vision,” I answered her. “At least, I think I did.”
“What do you mean ‘you think you did’?”
Open mouth, insert foot, I thought to myself. I didn’t really intend for the last part of that sentence to come out, but I guess my own personal doubts were starting to take hold. It didn’t matter much now because I knew my wife, and she wasn’t going to let it drop. I had no choice but to explain it.
“I haven’t been able to remember much of anything,” I began outlining. “I feel like I had a vision, but everything is all foggy. I seem to remember the little girl, and I keep flashing on not being able to breathe, but that’s about it. The rest is all just a blur.”
“Why do you think that is?” She cautiously pushed the vehicle onward through an intersection guarded by a winking yellow traffic signal. “Do you think it might have something to do with what Carl was saying then?”
Detective Deckert had detailed to her his story about the basement door and the events that followed. Every time he reiterated the tale, his eyes grew wide, and he would shake his greying head while repeating, “It’s just kinda weird, y’know?” I almost wished that Agent Mandalay had been the one to have his experience. Then maybe she would be slightly less skeptical.
“It’s possible. Roger spoke to me in the vision last night, and then there was the nightmare...” I mused aloud. “I was expecting some kind of presence from him. That’s why I went there in the first place.”
We were both silent for a short while as Felicity pressed the Jeep along, occasionally shifting gears up and down to adjust speed for the various intersections we crossed. The pulsing yellow and red signals gave warning at each junction, serving also to punctuate my realization that the hour had grown later than I realized.
“How’s your head?” Felicity finally asked.
“Stil
l hurts—hang a right up here on Ashby—but not as bad as before.” I settled back in the seat and closed my eyes for a moment. “I took a handful of aspirin earlier, and they’re starting to kick in. Not quite as fast as willow bark tea, but they don’t leave an aftertaste.”
“I know what you mean.”
I could feel the Jeep sway to the left, centrifugal force acting in opposition to the right-hand turn. My eyes were still closed, and I heard the smooth, metallic click of the stick shift as the gears were shifted down then back up. The hum of the tires against pavement was pinpricked by a low, quick, electronic beep as Felicity’s watch announced the half-hour.
“What time is it anyway?” I asked, still resting limply in the seat. Before she could answer, I began a wildly disorienting carnival ride between realities.
“Hey, mister, what time is it?” A little, strawberry-blonde girl is talking to me. She is dressed in white lace and is tugging franticly at my sleeve. “What time is it? Hey, mister!”
“It’s twelve-thirty,” she answered.
“Hey, mister, what time is it?” The little girl is pointing above the horizon. The pregnant globe of the moon is lifting itself heavily, casting its reflected light down upon her upturned face. The hands of a clock spin urgently about the mottled silvery-white surface. “What time is it? Hey, mister?”
“Rowan? Rowan? Are you okay?”
There is a grove of trees surrounding a small clearing. Centered in the clearing is a hooded, robed figure standing with hands raised high. Moonlight glints from an object held in those hands. Moonlight glints from an athamè.
A small figure lies prone before the cloaked one. A small figure clad in white lace. Preened and arranged. Unblemished and virginal.
“Rowan! Answer me!”
Trees begin to erupt from the landscape, and the earth begins to tremble and sink. The depression fills with dark water and ripples in the slight breeze. The moonlight reflects in a shimmering stripe.
Another stand of trees erupt skyward. The tall pines form a line before us, completely obscuring the view except for a few small glimpses of the shallow lake.
“What does it say, mister?” The little girl is pointing at a small sign. Bold letters spell out PLEASE DO NOT FEED GEESE.
“Rowan! Breathe, dammit!”
I can’t breathe. My lungs are on fire, and the flames are licking up my throat. My chest feels heavy, and there is something tightening about my neck. The atmosphere feels thick and fluid around me. I want to gasp for air, but something is telling me I shouldn’t. My thoughts are beginning to cloud; my mind is turning murky and dark.
“ROWAN!”
I snapped fully back into conscious reality when Felicity combined her urgent voice with even more urgent one-handed jostling. We had just rolled to a halt in a bus turnout near the off-ramp onto Midland. The Jeep made a jarring lurch as she franticly switched off the engine and in her haste, released the clutch pedal a second too soon. At almost the same instant, I gasped, ravenously sucking in the cool air.
“Rowan! Answer me! Are you all right?”
I choked and sputtered on the intoxicating oxygen and wheezed in more as I began to catch my breath. The dull ache that had been residing in the back of my head for the majority of the evening was now making an all out assault on my skull, pounding rhythmically through my scalp. The faint tickle of oncoming nausea started down the back of my throat, and my mouth began to water slightly. I fought it back, concentrating on my breathing and forcing myself to at least try to relax.
“Okay,” I sputtered between breaths, “I’m okay.”
“What happened?” Concern permeated Felicity’s voice. “You stopped breathing.”
“The vision.” I was no longer gulping air, and my respirations were beginning to slow. “The vision came back.”
“What did you see?”
“The little girl. A small clearing and some trees. The full moon,” I described slowly, reviewing the brilliant Technicolor playback of the memories in my mind. “The moon had hands on it. Like a clock. They were spinning around, and the little girl kept asking me what time it was.” My speech started coming quicker as the vision flooded in. “There was a lake too. And a row of pine trees that hid the clearing. The little girl was pointing at a sign.”
“What did it say?”
“Please do not feed geese, in bold letters.” I painted the image for her. “It was black on white. Like a road sign.”
“A park sign maybe?” she ventured.
“That would explain what it said,” I agreed. “And the lake and trees too. Do you have your cell phone with you?”
“Sure.” She pulled it from a pocket on the side of her purse and offered it to me. “Who are you going to call? Ben?”
“Yeah. I promised I’d let him know if I remembered any of the vision. This whole park thing might be important.”
Thumbing the power switch, I began stabbing out Ben’s number on the lighted buttons. The amber, segmented digits advanced across the small display, and a second later there was a brief, mechanical trill from the earpiece as the phone rang at the other end.
“Storm,” Ben answered with a sharp, frenetic tenor to his voice.
“Ben, it’s Rowan. I remembered some of the vision.”
“Hold on a second...”
I could hear him exchanging words with someone in the background. Various noises were issuing from the small speaker in the handset. Those sounds, coupled with his tone of voice, led me to believe that all hell had broken loose, and the MCS command post was at ground zero.
“What’s the story?” Felicity queried, noticing my expectant silence.
“He’s got me on hold,” I answered. “It sounds like everything’s hitting the fan over there. I guess we can go ahead and get moving. No use in just sitting here.”
She nodded and reached for the ignition. There was a muffled plastic rattle on the other end of the phone and the clunk of a door being shut, followed by a relative hush.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Ben’s voice issued forth again. “It’s a fuckin’ circus down here.”
“What’s going on?”
“Aww, the parents made an appeal to the kidnapper on the ten o’clock news. We’ve been gettin’ crank calls ever since you and Felicity cut out. Forget about that, whaddaya got?”
The engine on the Jeep had sparked to life and was now idling smoothly. Felicity popped the vehicle into gear and started rolling forward.
“I remembered the vision,” I expressed. “I’m not sure what all of it means, but I’ve got some ideas.”
“Shoot.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure he’s going to do the ritual outdoors where he can see the moon. I think he might be planning to do it in a park or something.”
“Any idea which one?”
Felicity gunned the engine slightly and eased from the bus turnout onto the off-ramp leading into the city limits of the small Saint Louis suburb of Overmoor.
“Not for sure. In the vision, I saw trees and a small lake,” I explained further. “The only specific thing about it I can remember is a sign that said ‘please do not feed geese’.”
“No offense, white man, but do ya’ know how many parks with lakes and geese we have in the metro area alone? Not to mention the state.”
“Too many.”
We continued down the small incline, past a wide opening in the chain link fence that ran alongside the ramp. I watched out my window as the obese moon lumbered across the night sky, arcing high above the trees. Apparently, a slight breeze was blowing, as I noticed the boughs of a stand of pine trees were gently waving. A line of tall pines obscuring all but the smallest glimpses of the lake behind them.
“Stop,” I almost whispered at first and then spoke louder. “STOP!”
Felicity immediately cranked the steering wheel to the right, pulling us onto the shoulder. The tires ground coarsely against the loose gravel when she jammed on the brakes and brought us to a sliding halt.
/> “What? What’s wrong?” she appealed.
Similar questions, only spoken by Ben’s voice, were issuing raspily from the cell phone as I handed it to her and opened my door. Slowly, I covered the short distance between the Jeep and the fence, staring out across the moonlit landscape. I twined my fingers through the links and pressed my face against the warm, galvanized metal, intently studying the scene.
A line of tall pine trees reached upward to the star- speckled night. Between them, I could see the occasional shimmer of moonlight reflecting from rippling water. At the head of what appeared to be a trail, a small white and black rectangle was affixed vertically to a short post. It was too far away to read with the unaided eye, but I didn’t have to make out the words to know that it simply said, PLEASE DO NOT FEED GEESE.
I turned my gaze upward at the almost perfectly round disk floating in the sky. Marbled grey and white, its luminescence cast the view in an eerie glow. In my mind, I could see the minute hand relentlessly chasing its smaller and slower rival about the surface. Overtaking it and repeating. Overtaking it and repeating.
A familiar, searing fire sprinted suddenly up my spine, bringing with it a dark foreboding. The hair stood out from the back of my neck, and my body felt like a living pincushion in a vat of alcohol as every other follicle stiffened to attention. Crackling static danced across my skin, setting its already tortured surface ablaze.
“Hey, mister, what time is it?” The little girl tugs on my sleeve. “I have to go soon. What time is it? Hey, mister!”
The hardened steel wedge of realization buried itself soundly between the hemispheres of my brain and drove relentlessly inward. I scrambled back to the Jeep in a frenzy, awkwardly slipping and falling on the loose gravel twice before making it. Felicity had the cell phone pressed to her ear and was apparently filling Ben in on my sudden, inexplicable behavior. Sensing what I was after, she handed me the device before I could snatch it away from her.
Harm None: A Rowan Gant Investigation Page 32