Miranda: A Rowan Gant Investigation

by M. R. Sellars

Apparently she anticipated my question and rushed to reassure me. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Agent Parker is with Felicity. As of this afternoon, the bureau officially took over from the local law enforcement. Until this is all done, you’re both under federal protection, twenty-four-seven.”

  I finally allowed my eyes to flutter open and then rolled my head in the direction of her voice. Her face wasn’t crystal clear, but I’d become used to being without my glasses, so at least it wasn’t a complete blur. I could see that she was standing there looking at me with her head cocked to the side, and I was able to pick out the mix of concern and relief fighting for control over her features.

  I sighed. “I suppose I have you to thank for that?”

  She shook her head. “It came from much higher up, actually.”

  “I see… I thought the Federal Marshall Service handled protection details,” I said.

  “It depends on the situation,” she said with a nod. “Obviously, you’re a special case.”

  “Go figure,” I mumbled then drew in a deep breath and said, “Guess it didn’t matter how much I acted like an ass. I’m still being viewed as a possible asset, huh?”

  “That’s the rumor… But I’m sure there’s more to it than that,” she replied.

  “So, how is she?” I asked.

  “Felicity? I’m afraid she’s pretty much the same,” she replied, a detectable note of apology in her voice.

  “What about her parents?”

  “Helen spoke to your attorney, and she’s on top of it. She said she’d come by and meet with you about it tomorrow.”

  “Good.”

  “So what about you?” Constance asked. “Are you doing okay?”

  I swallowed then quietly breathed, “I guess that depends on your definition of okay.”

  “Same old Rowan,” she replied. “I think you’re allergic to straight answers.”

  “Not really. I just think out loud a lot.”

  “I’ve noticed. So…can I get you anything? Are you thirsty?”

  “Yeah… Actually I think I am.”

  “Right now all they’ll let you have are ice chips. The nurse brought a fresh container in just a few minutes ago. Would you like some?”

  “That works,” I muttered. “Just put ‘em in a glass and pour some Scotch over them.”

  “Mm-hmm, I don’t think so. Besides, why would you want Scotch when you already have something even better tapped right into a vein?”

  “What? This?” I said, slightly lifting the hand that still grasped the pendant from the morphine pump and then letting it fall back onto the blankets. “Not really a big fan of the side effects.”

  “What side effects?”

  “The nightmares.”

  “Hmm,” she replied. “I didn’t have any of those, myself. It just made the pain go away and I slept a lot.”

  My brain was still a bit sluggish, so it took a moment for me to connect the dots where her remark was concerned. However, within a second or two, I remembered that it wasn’t all that long ago that Constance had been in a position very similar to this. Instead of a knife, her wound had been produced by a bullet making it through a gap in her protective vest, but the method behind the injury really didn’t matter. Hers had still been courtesy of Miranda, just like mine.

  “Guess it’s just me then,” I sighed.

  “You should probably tell the nurse about it though. They might need to put you on something else for the pain.”

  “Maybe,” I agreed.

  Constance waited a moment then nodded toward the tray at the foot of the bed. “So…do you still want some of those ice chips?”

  “Sure…” I replied.

  She smiled and stepped away as I sent my fingers in search of the bed controls. Finding them mostly by touch, I eventually managed to start the top half into an upward tilt.

  “How long was I asleep?” I asked once I’d struggled through the pain of adjusting myself into something resembling a reclined sitting position.

  Constance handed me a half full cup of the crushed ice and shook her head. “I’m not entirely sure. You had already been out for a while when I took over, and that was…” She gave her watch a quick glance and said, “A little over four hours ago now. So probably five hours at least.”

  “Hope you brought another one of your romance novels to pass the time,” I quipped.

  She let out a light chuckle. “Some law enforcement bulletins and a copy of Guns and Ammo, actually.”

  “Seriously? But…”

  She cut me off. “I never said that I didn’t read it.”

  “True. You didn’t.” I paused and tried to focus on more recent memories. Unfortunately, they were still a bit of a blur. “So…I guess I should check… It’s still Tuesday, right?” I asked, then tilted the cup to my lips and shook a few small chunks of the ice into my mouth. As they began to melt, I allowed the cool water to run down the back of my dry throat. The sensation made me realize just how thirsty I really was, so I tipped the cup to my mouth again.

  “Yes,” she said with a nod. “Still Tuesday. Although it’s early evening. Coming up on seven.”

  I laid my head back and sighed as I did the mental calculation. Once I had swallowed the rest of the water, I turned my face to her. She had stepped the short distance back across the room and parked herself in the chair again. “Any word from Ben? When he left earlier there was something going on with another victim.”

  Constance nodded as she answered. “Yes, actually. I talked to him an hour or so ago, and they were finally starting the interview.”

  “Interview?” I asked, scrunching my brow. “What do you mean? I’m not sure I follow.”

  “I’m sorry,” she replied. “I thought you already knew. The victim is still alive. He somehow managed to escape before the killer had a chance to bleed him out.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she replied. “He was picked up not far from here as a matter of fact. He was wandering down the middle of a street in Saint Flora, naked, and apparently in a complete daze. It appeared he had been tortured for a while, and he’s in pretty rough shape but stable now, as far as I’ve heard. They brought him here to the emergency room.” She extended her index finger and pointed at the ceiling. “He’s in a bed two floors up at the moment, being interviewed by Ben and his lieutenant.”

  “Amazing…” I almost whispered as I stared off. Something still wasn’t registering for me, but I couldn’t yet put my finger on it.

  Constance nodded. “You aren’t the first person to use that word.”

  “I’ve had some pretty crazy nightmares lately,” I said. “You aren’t about to morph into a giant rabbit and tell me that’s what this is, are you?”

  “Your nightmares have been about giant rabbits?”

  I gave my head a small shake. “No. Just making up an example.”

  “Well, you aren’t dreaming this time,” she assured me. “I can pinch you if you’d like.”

  “Thanks, I’ll pass.”

  “Good call. I pinch pretty hard.”

  I rolled my head back up and slowly shook some more of the chipped ice into my mouth. I chewed it and once again allowed the melt to run down my throat.

  The mind fog was lifting even more, but at the same time, I was already feeling twinges of pain in my gut—the trade off for clarity I suppose. Fortunately though, they were still dull and remote. With luck I’d have plenty of time before they became unbearable enough for me to be willing to endure the nightmare for the umpteenth time.

  I started to lift the cup to my lips again but stopped and held it hanging in mid-air as my opiate intoxicated synapses continued to sober up. A series of misfires between neurons finally captured and then generated a shaky connection. As it continued to flicker and arc, a question floated through my brain. Rolling my head to the side once again, I lent a voice to the query.

  “So, Constance…”

  “Yes?”

  “If th
ey just now started the interview, how did they know earlier that he was a victim of the same killer?” I asked.

  She frowned and shook her head. “It’s not that important, Rowan. Just trust me. There was some very compelling evidence.”

  “Go ahead and pinch me,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Go ahead and tell me what you’re hiding,” I replied. “That should be as good as any pinch.”

  “I can if you really want to know,” she said. “But I don’t see how it will help, and you aren’t going to wake up from this. It’s not that kind of nightmare.”

  “Yeah, I kind of got that already,” I told her. “How’d they know, Constance?”

  She sighed and shook her head again. “They knew because your name had been carved into his chest…and his back, and his arms, and even his forehead… Honestly, from what I understand, it’s just about anywhere on his body there’s room enough for it to fit.”

  CHAPTER 30

  “Oh,” I replied.

  The word was patently anticlimactic in and of itself, but there really wasn’t much one could say in response to an explanation such as Constance had just given—especially in this line of work and having seen some of the horrors I had witnessed over the years. Once upon a time, such a revelation would have been shocking to me. Absolutely horrifying on levels I couldn’t even imagine, in fact. But, that was then. Now, such a violent reaction was a part of my distant past, and atrocities like these were just a matter of course in my painful world.

  However, this isn’t to say I was completely cold-blooded.

  I was beyond disgusted by the news—that much was absolutely certain. It made me sick just to think about it. Still, surprise just didn’t fit into the equation at all.

  The simple fact of the matter was that carving my name into a victim was exactly the sort of thing Miranda would do, especially if she was working some type of hoodoo against me. She’d gone that route several times before, so there was no reason to believe she wouldn’t do so again. The only question in my mind was exactly what kind of magick it was?

  If I had to guess, I would say she was probably trying to kill me. On the surface, that’s definitely how it looked. And, after all, we knew for certain that particular errand was at the top of her agenda, so it made perfect sense. Basic sympathetic magick—name the victim for me and then kill him as me. It was almost as simplistic as my use of salt to ward against her. In fact, it made me wonder if I had revealed too much during that meeting in Texas. Maybe she was taking a page from my own playbook and using my belief in the KISS principle against me. Given my currently weakened state, who knows, it might even have worked.

  If those were in fact the circumstances, I guess it was a good thing for both of us that the victim had escaped when he did. I silently admonished myself for having such a self-serving thought, but pretty or not, it was the truth.

  I rolled my head up and stared at the ceiling for a minute or two. I didn’t find any comfort there, not that I was really expecting to.

  As if the twinges in my gut weren’t enough to deal with, my neck was now starting to ache and the pain was threatening to advance into my skull. As a countermeasure, I slowly worked my shoulders up and down then tried to move myself into a more comfortable position. I’d only been in this bed for a little over a day now, but it was already taking its own toll on my body. Unfortunately, I had a vague recollection of a doctor telling me that I wasn’t likely to be leaving here for several more days yet.

  I let out a groan as I settled back against my pillow. Unfortunately, my new physical arrangement didn’t seem to be any better than its predecessor.

  “Are you okay?” Constance asked.

  “Yeah,” I grumbled. “My neck is bothering me a bit. I guess I’m not used to laying around like this.”

  “Do you need another pillow or something like that?”

  “Nahh…I don’t think so. But thanks anyway.”

  “No problem.”

  I waited for a moment then added, “And I mean thanks for everything, Constance. You’re a hell of a friend, and I want you to know I appreciate everything you’ve done. I know you’ve put up with a lot these past few days.”

  “That’s what friends do,” she replied.

  “I know, but I just wanted to say it. Ya’know what I mean?”

  She chuckled. “Don’t get maudlin on me, Rowan. I’m not sure I’d know what to do.”

  I allowed myself a grin. “So I guess this wouldn’t be the time to tell you that you’re like family to Felicity and me and that we put you in our wills?”

  “I’d say most definitely not. Unless there’s a huge amount of money involved.”

  I snorted. “Don’t worry. I think it’s just the drugs talking anyway.”

  “Probably,” she agreed. The melody of another chuckle fell in behind the comment before she added, “But seriously, thanks. And just so you know, the feeling is mutual.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said. “And thanks.”

  Quiet flowed into the room once again, so I tilted my head forward to watch the activity on the other side of the window wall. As expected, it was much the same as earlier, but at least it was something to look at.

  The small amount of ice that remained in my cup had melted for the most part, so I took a sip then gave the Styrofoam vessel a tilt and completely drained it. After swallowing I let out a thin sigh and continued to stare through the glass.

  “Do you want some more?” Constance asked.

  I looked over at her. “Don’t worry about it… You just sat down.”

  She pulled herself up from the seat and then shrugged. “Now I just stood up. Would you like some more?”

  “I guess since you put it that way, yeah,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “It’s not a problem, Rowan.”

  She stepped over and took the cup from me then set about refilling it from the container on the tray at the end of the bed. I started working my shoulders in small circles as best I could in an attempt to loosen some of the kinks in my neck. The ache seemed to have blossomed now and was creeping upward into the base of my skull. As I slowly twisted my head side to side, I felt a tingle working its way up my spine. In that same moment, I noticed a mild burning sensation on my arms. I tilted my head forward as I raised the appendages and immediately saw small patches of gooseflesh erupting here and there across my skin. The tingle along my spine settled into my neck, and I felt myself shiver involuntarily.

  Constance had apparently just turned back around to hand me the cup when the tremor began.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Rowan?” she asked, arching an eyebrow upward as she watched me shake.

  “I guess so,” I said. “I think maybe I’m just feeling a chill.”

  She nodded. “Okay. That makes sense. They keep it pretty cold in hospitals. I had chills too when I was laid up. Let me see about getting you an extra blanket.”

  “Thanks,” I told her.

  I was still tensing my body against the sudden cold, and my abdomen was starting to announce its displeasure with me because of it. Constance abandoned the cup to the tray and stepped out the door of the room. The moment it opened, I could hear the scratchy buzz of a radio, probably coming from the nurse’s station. I couldn’t tell exactly what they were listening to, but it sounded like it might be some kind of round-table talk show. Whoever the guests were, however, they didn’t seem to care if they talked over the top of one another. Fortunately, it was out there and I was in here, so it wasn’t as annoying as it could have been.

  A minute or so later, Constance was back at the bedside, and a nurse carrying a blanket came through the door shortly afterward. The strain on my muscles was now squeezing the nerves in my neck, so the ache was crawling across my scalp and leeching into my skull. Of course, in comparison to my old norm where headaches were concerned, this one was an amateur with no skill.

  “How are you feeling this evening, Mister Gant?” the nurse asked as she began t
o unfold the pre-warmed cloth on top of me.

  “Okay, I guess,” I said, teeth chattering a bit. “A little cold, obviously.”

  She nodded as she continued tucking the blanket around me. “That’s not unusual.” She shot me a smile and then leaned a bit closer and adopted a faux confidential tone. “I’m always cold around here too. I even keep a sweater here all year ‘round.”

  When finished, she turned and gave the vitals monitors a once over then directed herself to me once again. “Okay, well my name is Anastasia. I didn’t get to introduce myself earlier because you were still asleep, but I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Is there anything you need right now?”

  I shook my head as I consciously tried to soak in the warmth of the blanket. “No, I don’t think so.”

  She gave the morphine pump a quick check. “It looks like you’re okay there. How is your pain this evening?”

  “Not bad,” I answered. “Although, I am starting to get a bit of a headache.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “Not bad I don’t guess. I don’t really know.”

  “Well, how would you rate the pain on a scale of one to ten?”

  “Maybe a high seven,” I replied.

  She raised an eyebrow. “A high seven? I thought you said it wasn’t that bad?”

  “I know…I know… But I’m sort of used to them being more like a twenty-five with occasional attacks of fifty or better.”

  She chuckled, but I didn’t bother to point out to her that I wasn’t joking. I really didn’t feel up to inventing an explanation at the moment, and the real one certainly wouldn’t do. Especially if my in-laws were trying to have me declared incompetent so that they could take over the decisions about Felicity’s treatment. The last thing I needed to do was provide them with a witness who would testify that I qualified as delusional.

  “I think we can probably get you something for that,” Anastasia told me. “Let me check with the doctor just to be sure, and I’ll be right back. Okay?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  Once the nurse had exited, Constance cocked her head and watched me carefully. After a short pause she said, “That came on pretty quickly, didn’t it?”