Miranda: A Rowan Gant Investigation

by M. R. Sellars

  As if she were reading my mind, Constance spoke up and said, “You can’t take this on yourself, Rowan. It wasn’t your fault. She committed these murders, not you.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” I replied.

  “She’s right, Row,” Ben added. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

  “Rationally, I get that,” I said. “But I live in a pretty irrational world, so it doesn’t stop me from wondering.”

  “Yeah, well, trust me. Rational or not, nothing ever does,” he grunted. “You ain’t the only one with baggage, white man.”

  A strong knock came at the door, and then it popped open and an unfamiliar face poked through the gap. The countenance belonged to a striking dark-haired woman of conspicuous Asian descent. She looked to be in her late thirties, and from what I could see she appeared to be dressed in regular business casual street clothes as opposed to scrubs like the nurses working the ICU.

  “Am I interrupting?” she asked. Her voice held a nondescript but very definite Southern affectation.

  I thought I felt a tickle run along the back of my neck, but I wasn’t sure. Ever since I’d been injected with the diazepam, I had been a bit dulled to the outside world. I just wished it would work for my headache as well because that was still hammering inside my skull.

  “Can I help you?” Ben returned.

  “You must be Detective Storm,” she said as she stepped farther into the room after pushing the door so that it would swing shut behind her.

  I noticed Constance stepping forward and carefully shifting her position so as to place herself in between the woman and me. Apparently even though Miranda was gone, she was operating on automatic.

  “Yeah,” Ben acknowledged.

  Even with Constance between us, I could see that the woman was carrying a folding notepad under her left arm and had what appeared to be a Glock riding high in a retention holster on her right hip. A gold shield was clipped to her belt in plain view.

  “Wow. The lieutenant told me you were tall. He definitely wasn’t kidding,” she said and then glanced over at Constance. “So that would make you Special Agent Mandalay.”

  “Guilty,” Constance replied. “And you are?”

  “Oh, sorry, I’m Detective Shen. I thought you were expecting me.” The woman reached into her back pocket and withdrew a leather case, which she then flipped open with practiced ease and proceeded to display her official ID. “Saint Flora P.D. Lieutenant Sheets with the Major Case Squad commandeered me to come up and take Mister Gant’s statement.” She glanced past Constance at me and added, “If you’re ready that is.”

  The honey dipped drawl was even more prominent now that she had spoken more than three words in a row. I looked over at Ben and saw that he had an eyebrow cocked upward. He had first hand dealings with Felicity when Miranda had taken over her body, so he knew the uncharacteristic onset of a Southern accent was something that happened to her hosts.

  He glanced quickly at me then gave the woman a suspect stare. “Detective Shen… Huh. Ya’ mind if I ask…”

  “Chinese, but I was born and raised in Mississippi,” she replied before he could complete the question. She was already shoving her credentials back into her pocket as she spoke. “You were going to ask about the accent, right?” Her hand now free, she pointed her index finger at her own face and wound it in a trio of quick circles. “It’s a little hard to reconcile Southern Belle coming out of this face, I know.”

  “Sorry,” Ben replied. “Wasn’t tryin’ ta’ be a jerk.”

  Detective Shen gave him a quick shake of her head and a lopsided smile. “Don’t worry. I’m used to it. Besides, at least you didn’t scalp me first and then ask.”

  Ben snorted. “Yeah, okay. I guess I deserved that.”

  “So, I guess we’re even,” Shen replied, a good-natured air to the comment.

  “Yeah, I guess,” he said with a nod.

  “So, is this a bad time?” she asked.

  “Just a sec and I’ll let ya’ know,” Ben told her. He stepped around the end of the bed and crossed behind Constance then snatched the handset from the phone. With a series of deliberate punches from his finger, he dialed a number then held the phone up to his ear. After a short pause he said, “Yeah, L. T., it’s Storm. Yeah… Well, he’s doin’ as good as can be expected I guess. Yeah… So listen, I got a Saint Flora copper up here… Uh-huh… Yeah… That’s her… Yeah... Okay, just had ta’ check… Yeah… I’ll be down in a few… Thanks.”

  Ben dropped the phone back onto the cradle then looked over at Detective Shen and said, “Okay. All good.”

  I saw Constance relax her posture, but she remained stationed between Detective Shen and me.

  The woman gave Ben a brief look of confusion then said, “Was there a problem?”

  “Just never saw ya’ before is all,” Ben replied. “Had to check your story.”

  Constance added. “Mister Gant is still technically under federal protection for the time being.”

  “Sorry,” Shen replied. “Like I said, I thought you were expecting me.”

  “We were. Sorta. Just figured it’d be someone from the MCS.”

  Shen raised her eyebrows and nodded. “It’s a little busy, as I’m sure you know.”

  “Yeah. I can relate. It’s all good,” Ben told her. “Just bein’ cautious is all.”

  “That’s okay, I understand,” she replied. After an uncomfortable pause she directed herself at me. “Umm… So now that that’s done, are you ready to give your statement, Mister Gant?”

  “Yeah, I can do that,” I told her. I still wasn’t excited about the prospect of recounting the story yet again, but I also wanted to get it over with.

  “Listen, Row,” Ben said. “I’ll catch up with ya’ a little later. L. T. needs me back downstairs.”

  “No problem,” I replied.

  “Rowan, do you think you’ll be okay with Detective Shen for a minute?” Constance asked.

  “I don’t see why not,” I replied. The tickle was still taunting the back of my neck, but it seemed innocuous. “I mean it’s all pretty much over at this point anyway, right?”

  “I guess it is,” she replied. Seeming far more relaxed than she had been just moments ago, she turned to Ben and said. “I’ll walk you out. I could use a bottle of water anyway.”

  “Yeah,” Ben agreed. “I could go for a coffee.”

  “What about you, Detective Shen,” she asked. “Can I bring you anything?”

  “No, I’m fine, but thank you.”

  Constance nodded. “Okay then, I’ll be right back.”

  “Take your time,” Shen replied. “Get some air if you want. Mister Gant and I will be awhile, and I’ll be happy to stay with him until you get back.”

  “Thanks,” Constance replied. “I know it’s just a formality at this point, but remember, nobody comes through that door without a badge or a hospital ID, okay?”

  “Got it.”

  “Good. I shouldn’t be long.”

  Once they’d exited and the door was shut, Detective Shen came over to the side of the bed and looked down at me.

  “Rough day, huh?” she asked.

  “That’s one way to put it,” I replied.

  “Well, I’ll try to make this as painless as possible,” she told me.

  She turned and wandered over to the window wall and watched Ben and Constance as they disappeared around the corner. Then she purposely drew the curtain shut.

  The phantom tickle brushed my neck once again then ran along my spine and spread out to my arms as well. The thud inside my head seemed to grow a little angrier too.

  “Why’d you do that?” I asked.

  She turned and came back to the bedside then smiled down at me. “I always prefer a little privacy when I do this sort of thing.”

  CHAPTER 35

  “Then she told me that I was to blame for all of them,” I said.

  Detective Shen stopped writing for a second and glanced at m
e. “All of them?”

  “Yes,” I told her. “All of the victims. She was fixated on my wife for some reason. And, since I was keeping her from getting to Felicity… That’s my wife… Anyway, since I was an obstacle to her, she wanted me to know I was to blame for everyone she had killed.”

  “I see,” she replied. “Is that your conclusion, or is it what she actually said?”

  “I’m paraphrasing a bit,” I admitted.

  “We really need to stick to the actual events,” she instructed. “Sort of a just-the-facts kind of thing, okay?”

  I gave her a slight nod. My head was still pounding, and the tickle along my spine was trying hard to turn into a full-blown tingle. The edge having been chemically honed off my senses wasn’t making me happy at the moment. I could tell something wasn’t quite right, but I had no idea what it was.

  I cast a furtive glance toward the door. Ben and Constance had only been gone for a few minutes, but it was starting to seem like hours. A small knot was working its way into my intestines, and I found myself trying to will Constance to walk back through the door right now.

  Apparently, my glance wasn’t anywhere near as surreptitious as I wanted to believe. I suppose the fact that it had turned into a somewhat prolonged stare was to blame.

  “I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable for some reason, Mister Gant,” Detective Shen told me. “I’m sure Special Agent Mandalay will be back soon enough.”

  I broke my stare away from the door and looked at her. I swallowed hard then gave my head a shake. “I’m sorry… It’s just…”

  “I understand,” she replied. “Just relax. It’s been a rough day for all of us. But you don’t have to worry. You’re safe now.”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  “Okay,” she nudged. “You were telling me that Lisa Carlson had said you were responsible for ‘all of them.’”

  “Yeah… Okay… Right… Just the facts,” I replied, nodding as I spoke. “So, as I recall she said something like, ‘You only have yourself to blame,’ then when I asked her for what, she said, ‘All of them.’ Then I said pretty much the same thing you just did, and she said, ‘Everyone who had to die because you kept me from her.’”

  I didn’t really have any trouble remembering the conversation. It was still painfully clear in my mind. The biggest issue I faced was the on-the-fly sanitizing I had to do. As usual, I just automatically deleted references to ethereal visions and spirit possession wherever necessary. Fortunately, that didn’t Swiss cheese my recounting of this particular conversation as bad as it had some of the statements I had given in the past.

  “Okay,” Shen nodded as she scribbled. “What happened next?”

  A sharp lance of pain shot through my head, originating at the base of my skull and ricocheting off the inside of my forehead before clawing its way through the rest of my grey matter. At almost that same instant, a frantic knock sounded at the door. It immediately swung inward without pause, and a nurse barreled through the opening as if on a mission.

  Upon hearing the initial sound, Shen had already turned away from me. Apparently, she was taking Mandalay’s instructions to heart because a split second after the door began to swing she was in motion. Shifting quickly, she took a pair of steps toward the nurse, effectively blocking any further ingress and placing herself between any potential threat and me.

  “Excuse me, officer?” the nurse said, her voice filled with dire urgency.

  “Detective,” Shen replied.

  “Sorry, Detective,” the nurse shot back quickly, rushing past the apology and continuing with, “The woman from the FBI. Agent Mann, or something like that. She needs your help out in the lounge area right away.”

  “Did she say why?” Shen asked.

  The nurse shook her head while pointing out the doorway, a wave of what sounded like intense fear rippling through her voice. “No, but there is someone…” she stuttered. “And the tall policeman… He… Please… Something bad is happening out there, and she needs your help!”

  “Dammit,” Detective Shen muttered then barked. “Let me see your ID.”

  The nurse looked momentarily both impatient and nonplussed but then fingered a plastic card that was hanging around her neck on the end of an imprinted lanyard and held it up. The detective quickly peered at the hospital credentials then at the nurse’s face. Satisfied, she stepped around her while thrusting a finger back toward me and barking the order, “Stay with him. Don’t let anyone in.”

  Shen bolted from the room, and the nurse pushed the door shut behind her. Walking quickly back toward me, she was panting as if the excitement had pushed her beyond her limits. I couldn’t blame her. More than enough had happened here today already, so I knew exactly how she felt.

  The tickle along my spine had completely bypassed the tingle stage and become a raging fire, spreading outward to consume me. Every hair on my body now stood at attention, and I could feel the gooseflesh literally undulating in tremor-like waves. Whatever was happening out there wasn’t good, and even the drugs coursing through my system couldn’t keep the cold fear from gripping my chest.

  “What’s happening?” I asked, with more than just a healthy dose of urgency in my tone. “You said something about Detective Storm. Is he hurt?”

  She didn’t answer me. Instead, she reached down over the railing and snatched up the call pendant then flipped it off to the side.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I asked. It was a stupid question, but it was the first thing that popped out of my mouth. Then, as if arriving late to a party, it dawned on me that I had not seen this nurse before, but her voice sounded oddly familiar. Moreover, it carried with it a more than slight Southern affectation as well.

  Still silent, she stamped over to the foot of the bed, released the brake and began pulling. She let out a heavy grunt then yanked hard on the end, shoving her body to the side as she whipped me around. The pulsox sensor snapped off the end of my finger, instantly sending the monitor into a fit. She continued pulling, and a second later I felt a tug then a sharp pain. I grabbed for the IV tubing to keep it from ripping out of the back of my hand, and both the stand and the morphine pump toppled over and clattered across the floor. As we continued to move, the tension increased, and I was forced to pull the IV catheter out before it tore away of its own accord.

  She managed to wheel the bed the short distance across the room and bring it lengthwise in front of the door just as someone outside was attempting to push their way in. The wooden slab butted hard against the side of the heavy frame, causing it to shudder slightly, but not budge. I watched her move quickly as she stomped down on the brake to lock the bed into position. Then she stalked around the end and along the side.

  Glaring, she covered the few steps toward me, then she laughed. “You are so gullible, little man. Did you honestly believe that I would give up?”

  That was when I caught the sharp glint of light from metal. I probably hadn’t noticed it before because Detective Shen had positioned herself between us, blocking my view. And after that, everything had happened so fast that it was a wonder I’d noticed anything at all. But now, there it was, a chain around the woman’s neck that flowed downward and disappeared behind her scrubs. I didn’t have to see the rest of it to know what was dangling on the hidden end.

  I could hear shouting beyond the door. Tremors continued to vibrate through the bed frame as something heavy pounded against the opposite side of the barrier. Still nothing budged. I came to realize in that instant that I was on my own.

  “You can’t make it out of here,” I spat. “You have to know that, Miranda.”

  She lashed out, driving her fist into my jaw. I tried to block her, but my reactions were lagging far behind hers. I tried to roll with it, but her connection was solid and the damage was done. I could feel a sharp sting in the corner of my mouth and taste the blood as it began to flow.

  “That does not matter, little man,” she snapped. “This is just another body, an
d you will be dead. Then I will have what is rightfully mine. My only regret is that I do not have enough time to show you what love really is.”

  “You mean your twisted concept of it?” I asked.

  I heard my name being called from the other side of the door, and now a new noise joined the clamor as something struck with a hard ping against the window wall. It didn’t take much for me to realize what they were trying to do, but I also had to wonder just how long it would take for them to break through tempered safety glass.

  Something told me it would be too long.

  Although I was absolutely certain I should be feeling abject fear at my impending fate, I wasn’t. Miranda was going to kill me, and I knew it. For a fleeting instant, I thought perhaps I was simply feeling resignation, as a bizarre calm seemed to spread through my body. However, that calm was tainted with a pang of guilt.

  I looked into the eyes of the unfortunate woman who was now glaring back at me. The spirit was evil, but the body belonged to someone else, and that rightful owner was in no way responsible for what was now happening. If she killed me, an innocent person would be who ended up standing trial, not the actual killer. If by some miracle they came through that wall in time, an innocent person might lose her life as they did whatever was necessary to save me.

  Too many people had died because of me already, and I wasn’t willing to allow another sacrifice. My eyes were quickly attracted to her neckline as light glinted from the exposed portion of the chain once again, and in that moment I made a decision.

  I imagined there were any number of things in this room she could pick up and use to beat me to death. If she went that route, there was nothing I could do. However, if she came in close enough and if I was correct, there was a way out. It didn’t escape my attention that I was dealing with two very big ifs, but I didn’t have much choice. If it turned out I was wrong, the outcome would be the same as if I had done nothing at all.