“I didn’t say that.”
“Well, it has to be something. As far as I can recall, I’m not abusive…or a deadbeat…I’m not unfaithful, and I’m certain you know that. You’ll tell me when I start getting warm, right?”
She expelled a frustrated breath and shot back, “Look, I just want a divorce. That’s all.”
I know for a fact I visibly cringed at the word. The pain in my over-tightened muscles broadcast it loud and clear.
“Not good enough,” I replied. “You’re going to have to tell me the real why.”
“I just did.”
“Guess again, sweetheart. It’s not going to fly. Give me one good reason for you suddenly wanting this. Did you find someone else?”
“NO! Of course not.”
Felicity was a Taurus, through and through, and she manifested the stereotypical characteristics of the star sign often. However, out of all those idiosyncrasies, the aptly attributed bull-headedness was her most omnipresent. She had out-stubborned me on more than one occasion, and I truly feared she would do everything in her power to accomplish that now.
However, as pragmatic and obstinate as she could be, I wasn’t going to allow her to win. I had emotion on my side, and I was going to appeal to it in every sense, no matter what. I knew this wasn’t something she truly desired; I just had to get her to admit it.
“Then give me a reason.”
“I don’t have to.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Rowan…”
“Felicity…”
“Don’t push me on this, then. Just take my word for it.”
“Not happening.”
“I’m not going to talk about it.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Damn your eyes, Rowan Gant!”
“Don’t damn something you don’t even have the guts to look at,” I returned harshly.
“Don’t do this, Rowan.”
“After what you just asked me to do? Don’t ask me for favors. You don’t deserve any.”
I hated playing the bad guy. I hated pulling her strings by offering up such a callous remark. And, I hated the cruelty of what I might be forced to say if she didn’t give in soon. But, more than any of those things, I hated that she had put me in this position as she was trying to stonewall her way through it. So, I gave in and played the wild card. I would push her as hard as my churning stomach would let me and hope that it would be enough.
Fortunately, her own emotional resistance was down to nil, just like mine, and that last verbal shove was all it took.
“Damnú ort! It’s for you!” she suddenly shrieked, finally looking up as she slammed the heels of her fists hard enough against the table to make it shudder. “All right? It’s for you!”
I had only a brief moment to catch the anguish on my wife’s face. Almost immediately following the loud report of her hands against the pressboard, I heard the dull metallic clunk of a deadbolt being thrown. Less than a second later the door swung open. Embarrassment added itself to Felicity’s pained features and she turned away.
I twisted my own head toward the new sound just as the corrections officer who had been watching us filled the opening. She was alert, eyes fixed on my wife, with one hand riding on a holstered container of pepper spray at her hip.
“I think we might need to cut this visit short,” she announced.
“No. Everything’s fine,” I told her.
“It didn’t look fine to me.”
“Really, it is,” I replied. “Just a little emotional is all.”
“That’s exactly the problem, sir.”
“Look, it’s no big deal. And, I really need to finish talking to my wife.”
She’d glanced over to me a few times, but still kept a close watch on Felicity. “How about it, O’Brien? Are we going to have any problems?”
Felicity gave her head a shake without looking toward her.
“Words, O’Brien,” the officer pressed. “I need to hear you say it.”
“No,” Felicity muttered just loud enough to be heard. “No problems.”
The corrections officer waited a moment then glanced toward me. “Okay, time’s almost up anyway.”
“Fifteen minutes, okay?” I asked.
“Five,” she replied.
“Ten?” I bargained.
“Five,” she repeated.
“Then go away,” I remarked as calmly as I could, which wasn’t very. “You’re using up my time.”
She didn’t perpetuate the argument. She simply swung the door shut and threw the lock.
I knew I wasn’t endearing myself to the establishment, but that was a sacrifice I was going to have to live with because if it meant saving my wife, it was more than worth it.
I turned back to Felicity and discovered that she’d again focused her stare on the surface of the table.
“Honey, look at me,” I urged.
It seemed that her stubbornness had fled for the time being, and she slowly lifted her gaze back up to mine. I studied her face quietly and felt my heart rend at the very sight. What I hadn’t noticed in that split second before the corrections officer interrupted was that her cheeks were wet and her already bloodshot eyes were starting to swell even more. As was her way, the reason she had been keeping her face hidden was that she’d been silently crying this entire time. I should have known, and I mutely cursed myself for not realizing it sooner.
I gave her a moment to gather herself then lowered my frame back into the chair and stared across the table at her. She was still avoiding direct eye contact, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me.
“For me?” I finally said. “You know, that’s funny, because I don’t recall having a divorce on my wish list.”
“Don’t be glib, Rowan,” she sniffed. “This is serious.”
“Oh, trust me, I know that.”
“Then don’t make jokes.”
“Aren’t you the one who just said a few minutes ago that if you didn’t joke about it you’d cry?”
“Aye, and it mustn’t work, because crying is obviously what I’ve been doing then, isn’t it?” she chided.
“Yes, it is. I’m just trying not to join you.”
“Come on in,” she offered. “The more the merrier.”
“Who’s making jokes now?”
She simply shrugged in reply.
“Uh-huh, well, I think I’ll pass. It’s not really my kind of merry. So, you’ve been sitting here trying to convince me you want a divorce, which we both know is a lie. And now you’re telling me that it’s a gift for me. Well, here’s a news flash. I’m returning it because I don’t want it.”
“Rowan…this is serious.”
“No kidding…Look, honey…I don’t know where this is coming from, but it needs to stop. I feel like all I’ve done since yesterday morning is argue with everyone in my path. With some of them, it’s been for good reason, and others…Well, as much as I hate to admit it, it’s just been because I’m mad at the world right now.
“All I can tell you is that you are the one person I don’t want to argue with…especially not now…so, the truth is if I don’t treat this like a joke and laugh at it, my brain is going to seize up because I’m all out of tears right now.”
“But, Rowan…”
“But what?”
“A divorce would be in your best interest, then.”
My headache was still gaining ground. I took off my glasses and laid them aside while I took a moment to rub my eyes. After slipping the spectacles back onto my face, I folded my hands in front of me and regarded her quietly.
After what seemed a long pause, I said, “Okay, I’m afraid you’re going to have to explain that one.”
“Do you really want to visit me in prison?” she appealed.
“No. But that’s a moot point because you aren’t going to prison.”
“Be realistic.”
“I am.”
“Rowan…think about it…look at the evidence they have.”
/>
“I haven’t exactly been privy to much,” I told her. “Especially since your lawyer won’t talk to me about it.”
“Sorry,” she apologized. “I’ll tell Jackie to get you back into the loop then.”
“That would be appreciated.”
“Well, either way, certainly by now you know about the DNA evidence they have. Right?”
I nodded. “Yeah, it was mentioned.”
“Well, the way I understand it, that’s pretty bad.”
“I never said it wasn’t.”
“So, think about it. I must have done it. I must have killed them.”
I shook my head at her. “You see, now I know I didn’t just hear you say you killed those men.”
“I don’t know! I just don’t know,” she snipped, finally looking me in the eyes. Then, as she lowered her face once again, her voice became choked and almost whimpering. “I can’t remember…I can’t…”
Fear suddenly thrust icy fingers into my chest and took hold of my heart for a pair of beats.
“Felicity… Gods… Please tell me you didn’t confess to these murders.”
“No, I didn’t,” she whispered.
“Then just what did you tell the police?”
“Nothing really. Jackie has been handling it.”
“Good.” I let out a relieved sigh. “Let her. That’s what she’s getting paid for.”
“But, what if…”
“We’ve discussed this, Felicity. There is no what if.”
“I know we’ve talked about it, but listen to me, Rowan. What if you’re wrong?”
“I’m not.”
“But…”
“Listen to me. You did not kill anyone.”
“How can you be so sure, especially when I’m not?”
“I just am.”
“Rowan…”
“Honey, just think about it. If you had done it, don’t you think someone on the other side would be slapping me in the back of the head about now?”
“Aye, maybe they are and you’re ignoring them,” she replied, still sniffling. “You’ve got a headache. I can tell.”
“It’s not that kind of headache.”
“Liar.”
“You know, you’re going to give me a complex. That’s the second time you’ve called me a liar in the past half hour.”
“Only because it’s the second time you’ve lied to me in that same half hour.”
“Must be losing my touch. You usually don’t catch me.”
“No, I almost always catch you. I just usually don’t say anything.”
“Yeah, well, maybe so, but that still doesn’t change the fact that you’re innocent.”
“Aye, I wish I could be as certain of that as you are.”
“Well, I’m going to have to ask you to work on that because I need you to believe it as well.”
“I’ll try.”
“So…after all that, do you still want a divorce?”
“No. I didn’t really want one to begin with.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“But you might.”
I gave my head a frustrated shake. “I thought we’d…”
“Just hear me out for a second,” she interrupted.
“Fine,” I surrendered. “But please let’s not start this argument up all over again.”
“It’s about the evidence.”
“Okay, what about it?”
“What evidence have you heard about?”
“So far, just the DNA and the hair. They took some of your clothes from the house. They also grabbed some books from my office, but those were mine…and the library’s, so they don’t count. Other than that, not much, really.”
She sighed and glanced away then looked back to me with a renewed nervousness.
“I love you, Rowan Linden Gant,” she abruptly announced.
“Right back at ya’, Felicity Caitlin O’Brien,” I answered. “But somehow I don’t think that qualifies as evidence.”
“No, but my overnight bag is a bit of a different story, then,” she confessed. “And, you need to know that no matter what they imply to you, I have never…”
She didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence before the guard outside opened the door once again then stepped in and announced, “Time’s up.”
“Just another minute or so,” I appealed.
“No sir. I already let you go long as it is,” she replied in a vindictive tone. “Your time is up. Now you’re wasting my time.”
CHAPTER 17:
I wasn’t smiling when I walked out into the afternoon daylight. There wasn’t even an expression remotely resembling good humor in close proximity to my face. I know the chorus of the once popular song said that after “fighting authority”, I was supposed to come out “grinnin’”, but it just wasn’t going to happen.
I’d been locked in this me-versus-the-law free-for-all since Friday morning, and it was getting tiresome. Thus far I hadn’t accomplished much of anything other than digging myself into a deeper hole because, also like the song says, the bastards did indeed keep coming out on top. There was, however, a point other than the “grinnin’” where the lyrics and I would again be diverging—and that was very simply the fact that I wasn’t about to let them “always win”.
As far as I was concerned, they were welcome to claim victory in all of the skirmishes they wanted. The truth was they already had, with their latest triumph being my unceremonious ejection from the interview room and immediate escort out the front doors of the Justice Center. However, when it came down to the fate of my wife, I was going to prevail, not them. They just didn’t know it yet. However, the fact that the details of how I was going to accomplish this were still radically fuzzier than my crystal clear conviction was a moot point at the moment, because my mind was actually elsewhere.
It was still back upstairs with my wife.
I was certain that had I been a bit less surly—okay, a lot less surly—in my interaction with the corrections officer, I might have gotten the extra minute or two I had asked for. Instead, I was all but manhandled out of the room before Felicity could really begin her story, much less complete it. The fact that it had begun in such a cryptic, confession-like manner worried me. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her because I did, that wasn’t the issue at all. However, when you mix “overnight bag” and “whatever they imply, I didn’t…” together, the result can be more than just a little disconcerting. Suffice it to say, since something about an overnight bag had the police taking particular notice, and with an opening like the one she’d provided, I couldn’t help but have a few questions of my own.
Of course, as it stood now, I had probably done more damage than good with the authorities inside where my visitation rights were concerned. With that, and the fact that Jackie was still inside with Felicity, I wasn’t sure when I would be getting my answers anytime soon. Yet another overt and undeniable chunk of evidence to support what everyone around me had been saying all along—that I needed to calm down. Unfortunately, it was much easier for them to say than it was for me to do.
I stopped mentally castigating myself for a moment and looked up to glance at the traffic cruising along Tucker before stepping off the curb on my way around to the driver’s side of my truck. As it turned out, it was a good thing there weren’t any moving vehicles nearby because the voice that suddenly came from behind gave me an alarming start.
“So, how’s she doin’?”
I flinched involuntarily as the unexpected words caused me to lurch then immediately stumble headlong toward the street. At the same instant I felt myself pitching forward, someone clamped onto my upper arm and pulled me back. It should have been obvious that whoever had grabbed me was merely trying to help, but my paranoid mind took it in a completely different direction. I twisted around quickly, tensing as I tried to assume what I thought would be a defensive posture.
Ben took one look at my face then released my arm and held his hands out in a yielding gesture
as he took a half step back. “Whoa, Kemosabe. Just a bit jumpy, ain’t ya’?”
I allowed myself to relax once I realized who I was dealing with, but only slightly. My mood hadn’t exactly been uplifted recently, and to be honest, I wasn’t in a big hurry to talk to Ben. We had made some headway last evening, but it had really only taken the edge off my anger. While that was a start, it definitely hadn’t repaired the schism by any stretch of the imagination.
As we stood there, I gave him a quick once-over. He really didn’t look any better than I felt, so I suspected he was dealing with his own demons and sleepless nights. I couldn’t say that I was sorry about that. I also noticed his jaw looked just about as bruised as my fist. Right or wrong, I took a modicum of satisfaction in that.
“Didn’t see you,” I finally replied, voice flat.
“Yeah…kinda got that from the ‘I’m gonna kick your ass’ look on your face.”
“Uh-huh…well, as I recall you’re the one who told me to be careful when I’m in the city.”
“Yeah, but I meant the parts where ya’ really need ta’ be careful. I mean, look around. Ya’ got coppers all over the place down here.”
“All the more reason to watch my back, don’t you think?” I just couldn’t stop myself from uttering the choleric words.
“Yeah, uh-huh. So, obviously you’re right back ta’ bein’ major pissed,” he grunted. “Thought we’d patched things up a bit last night.”
“Maybe a little, but this is going to take more than a little patching. I mean, look at what I’m dealing with here? Can you blame me for being pissed off?”
“Guess not,” he assented with a shallow nod. “But ya’ need ta’ try and get over it ‘cause we ain’t the bad guys, Row.”
“It’s been my experience that the bad guys rarely think of themselves as such.”
“Yeah, okay,” he replied, holding up his hands again in surrender. “Not gonna go there with ya’. Don’t wanna argue right now. You’re pissed, that’s fine. It’s all good. We’ll just hafta work around it.”
“Thank you so much for your approval,” I offered with heavy sarcasm overtly tagged to the words.
He just shook his head but didn’t reply.
All Acts Of Pleasure: A Rowan Gant Investigation Page 16