“About what?”
“The connection between the two of you.”
“That’s exactly what Miranda wants,” I replied.
“Why is that?”
“Long story.”
Felicity jumped in. “Do you think her attorney might try to shift blame to me?”
“We don’t know for sure what his plan of attack will be. Right now we’re just speculating,” Agent Hanley answered. “Insanity defenses are a long shot at best, and he most certainly knows that, but that is the most likely starting point given her current state. Still, he would be a fool not to use you in some way. If the insanity ploy fails, then he will be pulling out all the stops, if for no other reason than to lessen the severity of her sentence.”
“You sound like a prosecuting attorney yourself instead of a profiler,” I observed.
“Case investigator is what we prefer,” he replied. “At the BAU we create profiles, but the title Profiler is actually a term coined by the media and hyped by Hollywood. However, you’re somewhat correct. I worked as a prosecutor before joining the bureau.”
“Hmmph,” I grunted. “Well, that’s what I get for assuming. I figured you’d need to have a background in psychology not law.”
“I have both, actually. A Masters in Law and a BS in psych.”
“I guess it’s good to keep your options open,” I replied, for lack of anything better to say. “What about you, Doctor Jante? You actually sound like a psychologist.”
“I am,” she replied.
“Well, at least there are no surprises there.”
“Let’s get back to your original question,” Hanley said. “Our data will be a part of the prosecution’s case, as is customary whenever a serial offender goes to trial. But it’s usually just a profile for comparison. In Devereaux’s case, she’ll no doubt be facing a court-ordered psych evaluation given the nature of her crimes—also not unusual. But by having unfettered access to her now, we may well end up with invaluable data at our disposal that wouldn’t come out in a standard psych eval. However, whatever we come up with needs to be accurate. We can’t afford a misstep with this.”
“Okay, but what about the evidence?” I asked. “The way I understood it, there was more than enough to convict her.”
“In theory there is, but did you ever hear of a little media circus called the O. J. Simpson trial?” he asked.
“Point taken,” I said with a nod. “But still…”
“Believe me, we’re right there with you. But, we also have a job to do, and believe me, her ‘dream team’ isn’t made up of underpaid public defenders. She has some serious hired guns.”
“So why didn’t you just tell us what this was really about in the first place?” Felicity asked.
Doctor Jante shook her head. “To be honest, it’s easier to tell if a subject is lying if you catch them off guard. And we had to be sure.”
“Great,” I muttered. “So this was all one big lie detector test.”
“In part, yes,” she replied.
“But did I pass then?” Felicity asked.
Jante shook her head. “Not really.”
CHAPTER 17:
“And that means what?” Felicity pressed. “You’re going to arrest me again?”
“No,” the doctor replied. “But you’re still holding something back and that concerns us.”
“Trust me, I’m not keeping anything secret that would help you.”
“So then you admit that you are withholding information?” Hanley asked.
“This is turning into an interrogation again,” I objected.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Mister Gant, but it’s the two of you who are turning it into an interrogation by not cooperating,” he replied, voice stern and even.
“We’d be a lot more cooperative if you were being honest with us.”
“We are.”
“Only when it’s convenient for you,” I replied. “Or did you forget the big reveal just a minute ago?”
“Mister Gant, believe it or not we are trying to help you.”
“You’ve got a hell of a way of showing it.”
“Mister Gant,” Doctor Jante interrupted. “We need you to calm down. Devereaux and her attorneys are trying to drag your wife into this, and so far they are doing a damn good job. Essentially, Devereaux is placing herself at the scene of your wife’s extramarital tryst with Lewis…”
“That’s not what it was,” Felicity objected.
“Be that as it may, that is exactly how it will be portrayed in court,” Hanley replied with a dismissive gesture.
Jante continued. “Either way, she appears to be trying to make a mutual connection between the two of you that goes beyond her simply having an obsession.”
“So why doesn’t she just come out and accuse Felicity of being her accomplice then?” I asked. “Wouldn’t that be easier?”
“She’s far too intelligent for that,” Jante replied. “It might sound easier, but it would be less effective. She knows making an accusation like that would be far too obvious under the circumstances. Instead, she’s painting Miz O’Brien into the picture. Remember, all it takes is reasonable doubt.”
“She’s not after reasonable doubt,” I blurted, forgetting to hold my tongue. “She’s after complicity.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Have either of you wondered why she wanted to talk to you pre-trial?” I asked.
“Of course,” she replied. “It’s obvious she is up to something, and it would appear that somehow implicating Miz O’Brien in the crimes is it.”
“Like I said, complicity.”
“But complicity gets her nothing.”
“Actually, it gets her access to my wife, which is what she really wants.”
“Why?”
I knew I was getting carried away, so I slammed on the brakes and tried to recover by saying, “Just call it a hunch.”
Felicity recognized that I had talked myself into a corner and jumped in to divert the conversation. “So what do we do now?”
Jante looked over to her. “Unfortunately, we can’t simply assume that she is fabricating everything she says. The real sticking points are the mentions of Miranda in your arrest record, so we need to be clear on why exactly that is.”
“It sounds like you consider that some sort of damning evidence,” I observed.
“It is. It indicates a connection.”
“Then let me ask another question and hope like hell I don’t regret it later. Why does the federal government care whether or not my wife is implicated in this?”
“Contrary to what you might believe, Mister Gant, the government does actually care whether or not an innocent person is wrongly accused or convicted of a crime.”
“No offense, but you’ll have to forgive me if I take that with a shaker full of salt.”
“I’m merely answering your question. We aren’t here to change your opinions.”
I didn’t press any further. I felt certain there was something going on behind the scenes here, but I wasn’t quite sure what it was. However, what I did know for a fact was that some unnamed benefactor within the FBI had pulled my fat out of the fire when I had been arrested in New Orleans while unofficially investigating this case on my own. Something told me that same mystery person was behind this as well. I suppose I should have been thankful, and in many ways I was, but in the back of my head I couldn’t help but wonder what price I was going to pay and exactly when the bill was going to come due.
“We are simply trying to find the truth,” Doctor Jante said. “We need to determine if anything Devereaux has said is both accurate and at the same time inaccessible without her first having direct contact with Miz O’Brien.” She shifted her gaze to Felicity and added, “If you had such contact with her, we need to know about it, and why.”
“And if there is something she knows that she shouldn’t?” my wife asked.
“Then we could potentially have a problem,” Hanley
said.
“I think we have one then,” she replied.
“How so? Did you have direct contact with Devereaux?”
“No, not until the night at the zoo when she was captured. And when she called to threaten me. But you already know about all that.”
“Then what is the problem?”
“I’m sure Miranda knows quite a bit about me,” she sighed. “Much more than she reasonably should.”
“It would help if you could be a bit more specific about that,” Doctor Jante pressed.
“Believe me,” I spoke up. “That’s just about as specific as you want her to get.”
“And why is that, Mister Gant?” she asked.
I had already slipped twice and managed to duck and run. I didn’t know if I could get away with it a third time. But, since this conversation was rushing headlong toward parts unknown, I elected to give them my standard answer anyway. “Because if either of us tell you who Miranda really is, and how we came to know her, you won’t believe us.”
“How can you be so sure?” Hanley asked.
“Got the t-shirt,” I told him with a matter-of-fact shrug.
“May I ask if this has anything to do with your personal contention that Miranda is actually some sort of Voodoo spirit and that Devereaux, as well as your wife, have both been possessed by said entity?” Doctor Jante asked.
The question caught me cold, and I simply didn’t have an immediate response for it. In fact, I wasn’t entirely certain I had a response at all. The one thing that kept going through my mind, however, was Ben Storm’s voice saying, “Yeah, tell it to a judge.”
After a moment I let out a chuckle and shook my head. “You two are good. I walked right into that, didn’t I?”
“We’re simply after the truth, Mister Gant.”
The question in my mind at this point was how they knew. Obviously they were in possession of the case files; they had said as much right at the outset. But, I wasn’t aware that any of the less tangible information had ended up in those official records. In fact, I was somewhat flabbergasted that it apparently had.
Both Ben and Constance were fanatically meticulous about premeditated omission of the paranormal details when it came to their reports. There were simply some events that had no logical explanation—certain happenings that, when committed to paper, came off as too bizarre for belief, especially to the uninitiated and devoutly skeptical. If either of them actually tried including some of the things they’d personally witnessed, they would most likely find their careers becoming stagnant or even non-existent.
Of course, how they found out really didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. What it now boiled down to was the fact that I was correct. My third attempt at ducking the radar was a bust. So were the first and second apparently. I no longer had “you wouldn’t believe me if I told you” to hide behind, and that left me suddenly feeling very naked.
“Okay…” I finally said. “Since you are all about the truth, are you hiding anything else up your collective sleeves, or are we all really on the same page now?”
Special Agent Hanley spoke first. “This is nothing we were hiding. Obviously we’re familiar with both your backgrounds. I mean it’s really no secret to anyone, especially given the high profile cases on which you’ve consulted for the local police in the past.”
“The official reports don’t include the paranormal aspects of the investigations,” I countered. “You and I both know that.”
“Official reports, no. But neither of you are particularly shy about your beliefs, and trust me, what you do when consulting on a case makes its way through the grapevine even if it doesn’t go into a report.”
“Obviously… Well, I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised by that. Or by the fact that you did your homework. Actually, I suppose I should be shocked if you hadn’t, especially since you’ve been playing us from the word go. But, like you said, since we don’t hide our beliefs, that’s really a moot point.” I shifted in my seat then tossed my glance back and forth between them before adding, “I am a bit curious about where this is going, however. So, let’s continue our trend of honesty here. I’m guessing you’re both more than just a little skeptical about our take on Miranda, which is no surprise either.”
“Well, we certainly don’t subscribe to a belief that the immortal soul of a dead woman is taking possession of living bodies in order to commit crimes,” Doctor Jante replied. “Quite honestly, Mister Gant, that’s ludicrous.”
“Okay, so obviously ‘skeptical’ wasn’t a strong enough word,” I remarked as I shrugged. “You pretty much think we’re nuts. Fine. Once again, no big surprise there. I’ve got a few of those t-shirts too.”
“Neither of us said we think you’re insane,” she countered.
“No, but you didn’t have to,” I replied. “I’ve seen the look before. So, let’s quit dancing around and get to the real issue here. The way I figure it, either you’re actually afraid that Devereaux’s attorney is going to use this to somehow discredit the prosecution, or you have a different agenda.”
“No agenda, as you put it, Mister Gant,” she replied. “We’re simply doing a criminal investigative analysis to support the federal prosecutor, like we just explained. All of our cards are on the table at this point.”
“Yeah…until the next one appears,” I huffed. “So, unless I missed my guess, you have a different theory about who Miranda is?”
Doctor Jante shook her head and tossed her gaze back and forth between Felicity and me. “Actually, I wish I could say that you’re correct, but right now we’re just working on the basis that there must be something latent that is shared between Devereaux and you, Miz O’Brien. Something we’ve missed that could explain her intimate knowledge of you.”
“The only thing we share is some DNA, and I’m none too excited about that,” my wife spat. “Like I already told you, I didn’t even know Annalise existed until a few months ago when this all started.”
“Devereaux says the same thing. In fact, it would appear her base personality is even more in the dark than you. She isn’t aware of your familial ties at all.”
“Good. I’d like to keep it that way if you don’t mind.”
“I have no intention of telling her, but I’m certain her attorney knows. And, you must understand that it will come out at some point during the trial, if not before. That much is a given.”
“Fek…” my wife muttered.
“The concern, however, is the alleged personality called Miranda. She knows far too much about you, as you already heard. Any way you slice it, Miranda or Annalise, she is creating a tangible connection that can be used to implicate you in the crimes.”
“That connection is exactly why Annalise wanted to kill me,” Felicity returned, exasperation in her voice. “Just like Miranda said. Believe me, none of it was my choice.”
“None of what?”
“None of what you refuse to believe.”
“Miz O’Brien, even if we chose to believe such a thing could happen, there’s no possible way to prove it in a court of law,” Agent Hanley insisted.
“Which is just another reason I wasn’t saying anything about it in the first place,” my wife spat as she looked over at him then returned her gaze to Doctor Jante. “So, do I pass your test now?”
“At this point we aren’t doubting that you sincerely believe what you are saying,” she replied.
“Do you believe in God, Doctor Jante?” I asked, attempting to shunt the conversation toward our favor.
Hanley interjected. “I know where you are going with that Mister Gant, and it won’t work. I can assure you the court will gladly agree that you are free to believe anything you want, but belief in something does not make it a tangible fact.”
“Okay, different avenue then. If I’ve been following you correctly, Miranda is the problem. Annalise is simply oblivious. So if all you are dealing with is Annalise, no problem.”
“Yes, that’s correct, more o
r less.”
“Then I guess that’s our option,” I replied.
“What do you mean?” Jante asked.
I took a deep breath then let the sentence fly before I could talk myself out of it. “I need to make Miranda go away for good.”
Hanley shot a skewed look at Jante then back to me. When he spoke again there was a note of warning in his voice. “Mister Gant, you should know that…”
“Please don’t misunderstand…” I said, cutting him off. “I’m not implying anything sinister or illegal. Like I said, Miranda, not Annalise.”
“All right, I’ll play along. Let’s assume for a moment Miranda really is what you say she is. How do you propose to make her go away?”
“I haven’t quite figured that out yet,” I said. “But I know it has to start with me talking directly to Annalise myself.”
CHAPTER 18:
“Row, would you mind if we postponed this afternoon’s plans,” Felicity asked as we exited the lobby of the FBI field office on Market Street, downtown.
“Not in the mood anymore?” I returned.
“Yes and no,” she said. “I mean, I am in some ways, but all that talk about Miranda has me a bit squeamish. It kind of put a damper on the idea if you know what I mean. It’s just that… Well we could… But, you know I’m afraid I might…”
I slipped my arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze then kissed her on the forehead. “You don’t need to explain, hon, I know exactly what you mean. Don’t worry about it. Why don’t we just grab some lunch and maybe catch a matinee or something instead.”
I could tell the whole encounter still had her rattled just by the way her voice was slipping into a heavier brogue. Just like exhaustion, intense emotions had a way of doing that to her. Her anxiety definitely wasn’t uncalled for. She had every right to it, and even more.
“Aye, sounds like a plan,” she agreed.
“How about the Metro Diner?”
“What? Not Charlie’s? I mean, anywhere is fine with me, but we’re already downtown after all, and Metro is back toward the suburbs.”
Blood Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation Page 15