Miranda: A Rowan Gant Investigation

by M. R. Sellars

  “That’s the burning question. I’m beginning to think maybe Miranda.”

  “How could she do that?”

  “Another good question, and one I need to find an answer to before it goes any further.”

  “Did you tell Ben about this?”

  “Of course I did. And to his credit, he was perfectly willing to follow up on it too… But no more victims surfaced, so in the short term it appeared that the killings had stopped… Plus, I didn’t have any more episodes… And then there was all the hard evidence at the scene itself…” I allowed my voice to trail off for a moment before continuing. “We pursued it for a couple of weeks, but I couldn’t give him anything solid to go on. All I could say was that something still didn’t feel right.”

  “And now this happens.”

  “Yeah. Now this. Which also feels very wrong to me.”

  “Because of the timing?”

  “Yeah… Pretty much.”

  “I haven’t seen all of the details on the original case,” she said with a shrug. “So I only know what Ben told me, but wasn’t it all actually connected to the vampire subculture?”

  “That’s how it appeared on the surface,” I said. “Sanguinarian vampirism. People who have actually convinced themselves that they are vampires and really do drink blood. Everything from Renfield’s syndrome to kids looking for attention. It’s pretty strange, even by my standards. But in the end, everything stopped at the dead suspect. No solid connections to the local vampire community that we could find.”

  She pursed her lips and nodded. “Maybe you were dealing with a transient.”

  “I guess it’s possible, but that wasn’t how it felt to me.”

  “Well, we know what it usually means when you have one of your feelings…”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Okay, for sake of argument, say we assume the suspect had a partner who has now resurfaced. If you apply the Holmes criteria for defining serial killers, the timing itself could speak to an emotional cooling-off period between murders. It’s been what, a little over five weeks? That could easily fit depending on the original cycle of activity and the triggering stressor.”

  I nodded. “True. But the original case had a period of acceleration. A spree that occurred in the days leading up to a full moon. We’re a few days past that this month. So, why now? Why today of all days?”

  “Maybe the killer isn’t actually on a lunar cycle. There could be a different stressor,” she said. “This might just be a coincidence. They do happen, you know.”

  “Yes, I do. And maybe that’s the case this time, but something in my gut says no.”

  “Well, like I said, we know what your gut feelings usually mean.”

  We stopped at our rooms, which were positioned directly across the hall from one another. I dug around in my pocket for my keycard. Constance already had hers in hand.

  “But what about the loss of the partner?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Wouldn’t that affect the pattern somehow?”

  “That would all depend on the emotional investment. There’s almost always a primary partner with paired killers. The one who calls the shots and most often literally controls the actions of the other. There may or may not have been a bond between them.”

  “So a dominant and a submissive.”

  She nodded. “More or less.”

  “Miranda is definitely dominant,” I offered.

  “She would certainly fit the profile, but she’s currently incarcerated.”

  “No. Annalise is, not Miranda.”

  “Okay, that’s more your area of expertise than mine.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Speaking of expertise, with all that information floating around in your head, why aren’t you working with the BAU yourself?”

  She shrugged. “Having that sort of information and having the talent to put it into practice are two different things.”

  “Yeah. So I’ve been told.”

  She smiled. “Besides, right now I like it right where I am.”

  “Yeah. I get that.”

  “Okay…” she said, paused, and then nudged the conversation back to its original track. “So what about this whole gut feeling of yours? Obviously that’s leading you back to Miranda as well.”

  I gave her a quick nod along with a shrug. “Yeah, it is. I’m not sure exactly what she has to do with all this, but she’s involved somehow. I’m convinced of that much.”

  She shook her head and sighed, “Dammit, Rowan. Why do you always have to be right?”

  I could tell she meant the words to be rhetorical, but I still answered with a “Huh?”

  “What you said earlier,” she explained. “The calm before the storm. It didn’t last very long, did it?”

  “No, it didn’t.” I shook my head. “But then, it never does.”

  “Yeah…” She allowed her voice to trail off for a moment. “Well, I’d better call Ben,” she finally said, turning and unlocking the door to her room. “If you’re correct, and they don’t already have a body on their hands, he needs to know they’ve probably got one coming.”

  “Yeah, good idea.”

  She made a half turn back toward me, holding the door ajar with her palm. “Okay, so since you didn’t get to finish your lunch, do you want to clean up then try grabbing something to eat somewhere else in a little bit?”

  I shook my head. “I think I’ll wait until dinner this evening. What about you? I kind of interrupted your lunch too.”

  “I’m fine, actually. Besides, I have some protein bars in my bag. Do you want one to hold you over?”

  “No, but thanks anyway. What I really need to do is call Jante and let her know I’ll talk to Miranda again.”

  “Are you sure you want to go ahead with that, especially after what just happened?”

  “Actually that’s all the more reason why I need to do it.”

  “But if you’re right and she has something to do with what just happened to you, wouldn’t that be a little too dangerous?”

  “Obviously it’s dangerous no matter what I do, Constance,” I replied. “But this time I plan to play by my rules, not hers.”

  “And what are those?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t made them up yet.”

  Constance shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Well, call Felicity before you do anything else,” she instructed. “I promised her you would, and I don’t want her angry with me because you didn’t follow instructions.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Been there. It’s not pleasant.”

  “Well then start dialing,” she replied as she pushed her door farther open and stepped across the threshold. “Because you’re already giving me more than my share of unpleasantness all by yourself. I don’t need any from her.”

  “That’s what friends are for, right?” I quipped.

  “Sure, why not?” she replied, a note of good-natured sarcasm briefly echoing in her words before she turned serious for a moment. “So you’re certain you’re okay, right?”

  “Yeah. Tired, but I’ll be fine. Why?”

  “Double checking. You just bled all over a restaurant, you know.”

  I acquiesced. “True.”

  “If you need anything, just call me or bang on the door, okay?”

  “I’ll be fine, Constance. Don’t worry so much.”

  “Okay, get some rest. But just so you know, I plan to check in on you.”

  I half chuckled, “You’re almost as bad as Felicity.”

  “That’s what friends are for, right?”

  “Touché.”

  As she started swinging the door shut she added, “Now, speaking of your wife, go call her. And just so you know, I have her permission to use force with you if necessary.”

  The door was closed before I could answer, so I shook my head and turned toward my own. Back down the hallway, I heard the elevator chime then start opening, so I quickly swiped the keycard and pushed into my room. Once i
nside I parked myself on the corner of the bed and made the call to Felicity.

  The conversation with her went much as I expected. A full gamut of emotions and a few torrents of Gaelic, some of which were as yet unfamiliar to me. I had the distinct impression from the tone by which they were delivered it would be better to keep it that way.

  By the time we eventually said our goodbyes, she had calmed down. Still, she made it a point to remind me that she kept an overnight bag packed for emergencies and that she would find a way to get here if necessary. Since she wasn’t one to bluff, I took her threat to heart and promised to play it safe.

  Unfortunately, as I never seemed to be the one in control of my own destiny, I wasn’t entirely sure what good that promise was going to do either of us.

  CHAPTER 10

  The aftermath of the pseudo-hemorrhage was still clinging to me, so I needed to get myself cleaned up, especially if I planned to venture out into public for dinner at some point. I also still needed to call Doctor Jante, but given the events of the day, I found myself procrastinating. Even though I felt I had no choice but to meet with Miranda again, the idea of putting myself in that position was already taking its toll. I wasn’t kidding when I told Constance that I’d yet to make up a new set of rules, and so far that fact hadn’t changed.

  My headache was already starting to ramp up again, although this time it was coming at me from both sides of the veil. As a preemptive move, I rummaged through my suitcase and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. After pouring a pile of them into my palm out of habit, I scooped the majority back into the container, leaving only two behind. I’d overdosed myself too many times in the past, and I didn’t need a repeat performance right now. I tore the sanitary wrap from a small glass and filled it with water from the tap. Tossing the pills into my mouth, I washed them down then set the glass aside and flipped the switch for the light over the vanity.

  The reflection staring back at me from the large mirror was a train wreck. My eyes were half-lidded with a desperate need for sleep, which only served to deepen the semi-circular shadows of exhaustion already evident beneath them. While the paramedics had cleaned away some of the blood in a futile attempt to find a wound that was all but gone before they ever arrived, my clothing wasn’t the only part of me still sporting the darkening residue. I had smears on the side of my face and down my neck as well as a good amount in my hair.

  I placed my palms against the vanity for support then closed my eyes and allowed my head to hang as I muttered, “Why me?” It wasn’t the first time I’d asked the universe that question, and judging from the notable lack of response, it probably wouldn’t be the last.

  After a few moments of quiet self-pity, I huffed out a breath then pushed back from the vanity and stripped off my shirt. For a moment I considered soaking it in the sink but then decided it just wasn’t worth the effort, so I tossed it into the waste can. The garment was clearly beyond redemption, and I was beginning to feel like maybe I was too.

  After drenching a washcloth in a stream of hot water, I began washing the dried blood off my face. By the second pass it was apparent that I definitely had my work cut out where cleaning up was concerned. At least this time there wasn’t a wound that needed tending, which was more than I could say for some of my other adventures.

  I sighed at my reflection as I began to feel sorry for myself once again, then muttered aloud, “Don’t even go there, Gant…”

  I knew I couldn’t keep putting off the inevitable, so as I started rinsing the washcloth with one hand, I plucked my cell phone from my belt with the other, flipped it open with my thumb then scrolled through the stored contacts and dialed a number. I was just starting a fourth round with the wet rag when Doctor Jante’s voice issued from the speaker and into my ear, so I stopped scrubbing and shut off the water.

  “Mister Gant,” she said, her tone noticeably cool. “Given our earlier discussion, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you quite this soon, if at all.”

  “Believe me, I didn’t expect to be calling.”

  “I’m sure.”

  I was operating under the assumption that she was still just as interested in having me meet with Annalise again as I now needed to be. But, by the same token I was also well aware that I was preparing to start across a bridge I’d all but set ablaze earlier in the day. Therefore, I swallowed my pride and endeavored to douse any remnants of the fire.

  “Look, I need to apologize,” I told her. “I know we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms this afternoon, and I’m truly sorry for my role in that.”

  “Accepted. Now, are you merely calling to apologize, or should I assume this also means you’ve changed your mind?”

  “About the meeting, actually, yes. I would like for you to go ahead and arrange that, if it’s still on the table.”

  “And if it isn’t?”

  “Then I guess I have to figure out how to talk you into it again, which admittedly won’t be easy for me. So, I’m hoping I don’t have to.”

  She paused for a moment and then said, “Do you mind if I ask why this sudden change of heart?”

  “I’m working on a theory.”

  “I see. Is this theory something we should know, Mister Gant?”

  “I’m not really sure just yet,” I replied. “Can you tell me if Annalise is monitored at all?”

  “Yes she is. Why do you ask?”

  I glanced at my watch and did a quick mental calculation. “Because if it’s possible, I’d like to find out who she was roughly an hour and a half ago. Annalise or Miranda.”

  “Why is that important?”

  “Let’s just say it has something to do with that uncanny intuition thing you’re so interested in.”

  “Mister Gant…”

  “Listen, Doctor Jante, I’m honestly not trying to start another argument with you. Believe me, I’ve had more than enough drama for one day. But, this is very important and not all that easy for me to explain.”

  She sighed. “Well, I’m not currently at the facility. Let me make a call and see what I can do about arranging the meeting. Where are you now?”

  “My hotel room. I’ll be here for a while, but I’ll have my cell with me if I leave.”

  “Give me a few minutes to see what can be arranged, and I will call you back.”

  “Thanks,” I told her. “And don’t forget to find out about who she was.”

  “I’ll try,” she agreed. “But that’s something that may be hard to determine depending upon the circumstances.”

  “I understand,” I said, nodding as I spoke, simply from force of habit. “But if it’s at all possible, it’s very important that I find out.”

  “Can I assume you’ll give me a more coherent explanation about all of this in the not too distant future?”

  “Yes, as soon as I can give you one, I will. I promise.”

  “Fine then. I’ll call you back as soon as I know something.”

  “Thanks.”

  I closed the phone and laid it aside before returning to the cleanup task at hand. Less than five minutes later the device was warbling out an electronic peal. This time the conversation was exceptionally brief, and while I still didn’t end up with an answer to my question, I did have a scheduled meeting with Miranda at 10 the next morning. Now, I desperately needed to start worrying about exactly what I was going to do once I was back in the same room with her.

  I absently clipped the phone onto my belt and then started back in on the task of trying to make myself presentable. Unfortunately, the face staring back at me from the mirror really wasn’t looking much better than it had when I started. Giving in to the futility, I tossed the now pinkish washcloth aside and headed for the shower.

  As I stood under the steaming jets of water, I forced myself to relax in hopes that would help me formulate a strategy. Of course, I was also well aware that even my best-laid plans were virtually guaranteed to go astray. I had too many years of anecdotal evidence to support that fact. Even so, I ga
ve it a try. And, as always I kept coming back around to one fundamental issue: Above all else, I had to keep Felicity safe.

  The real question was how.

  * * * * *

  “You ain’t bleedin’ all over my girlfriend again, are ya’?” Ben asked. The question sounded half serious and came in place of a simple hello when he answered my call.

  Without missing a beat I replied, “If I was, I probably wouldn’t be the one calling you, now would I?”

  “Yeah, well stranger shit has happened where you’re concerned.”

  “Yeah, I guess it has,” I agreed. “Well, don’t worry. I haven’t done any bleeding since lunch.”

  “Good,” he grunted. “You had Constance a bit worried.”

  “Really? She seemed to handle it like a pro.”

  “That’s ‘cause she’s a copper,” he replied. “She is a pro. We deal with shit then worry about it later. It’s part of the job. So listen, if you’re callin’ about a body, we still don’t have one yet. Not that I’ve heard, anyway. But if ya’ got any ideas where we should look, I’m more’n happy ta’ listen.”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Okay…” he said with a questioning note in his voice, then allowed a short pause to hang in the air before pressing, “Okay… So, are ya’ callin’ about that necklace again? ‘Cause it’s still right here in my pocket.”

  “That’s good to know,” I replied. “But, no, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else.”

  “Okay, spit it out, white man. You called me, remember? I ain’t in the mood ta’ play twenty questions.”

  “Sorry…” I sighed. “I guess I’m still a bit preoccupied by all this.”

  “Yeah, no shit. I’ve interviewed suspects with more to say.”

  “So, anyway, I was wondering… Do you have anyone you trust who owes you a favor?”

  “Yeah,” he quipped. “You. And by my count it’s more like several favors.”

  “I’m serious, Ben.”

  “So am I,” he huffed in retort. “But since you’re the one askin’, my guess is ya’ mean somebody besides you, huh?”