The End Of Desire: A Rowan Gant Investigation (31 page)

“Okay,” he replied then waited a measured
beat before continuing. “Lemme ask ya’ somethin’… You absolutely
sure the hocus-pocus with the doll worked?”

I turned to face him. “Yeah, why?”

“Just askin’.”

I thought about what he’d asked, and my
muddied brain managed to match up the pieces. With an obvious
accusatory tone infecting my voice, I spat, “You think she might be
heading for that bondage club again, don’t you?”

“Calm down, White Man. I was just askin’,” he
replied.

“I broke that connection,” I continued,
intent on making sure he understood. “Miranda isn’t able to use her
as a horse any longer.”

“Okay, so what if Annalise did somethin’?
Maybe that thing with the candle. Didn’t ya’ say you thought that’s
why Miranda brought ‘er back here?”

“I don’t even want to entertain that
thought.”

“But, didn’ t you…”

“No,” I spat. “Don’t even go there.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay. I
was just askin’.”

I’m not sure if I was being so insistent for
his benefit or my own because whether I wanted to admit it or not,
the very same thought had already crossed my mind. My friend had
simply been the first to vocalize it.

“Actually, there’s something else that
worries me,” I finally said.

“What’s that?”

“Shamus.”

“Firehair’s dad? What about ‘im?”

“When Felicity first got arrested, he blamed
me. During one of his calls to berate me, he said he had made
arrangements to have her deprogrammed once she was out of
jail.”

“Yeah, I remember you sayin’ that. But, I
thought I remembered somethin’ about your mother-in-law sayin’
she’d put the kibosh on that?”

“That’s what she said, but I still try not to
underestimate Shamus.”

He shook his head. “But there’s nothing here
to indicate she was abducted, Row.”

“Maybe he set it up differently,” I
speculated. “Maybe he called her and she went over to their house
and he had them waiting for her.”

“With their black helicopter?”

“Dammit, Ben, don’t make jokes!” I
snapped.

“Look, I’m sorry, but you’re soundin’ like
one of those conspiracy nuts. Besides, your father-in-law didn’t
call ‘er.”

“How do you know?”

“‘
Cause there’s nothin’ on your caller
ID since well before we left the house, and the only incomin’ call
on ‘er cell for the past two days is the one you just made a little
while ago.”

“You checked that?”

“I’m a cop, Row. Remember? It’s what I
do.”

“What about…”

He interrupted before I could get the
question out of my mouth. “Yeah, I checked ‘er business line, and
yours too. No calls from Dad. But, if it’ll make ya’ feel better, I
can call and have a unit go by to check.”

“No…” I said after a moment. “Probably not.
Not yet, anyway. If I’m wrong then that will just stir up a big
mess all over again.”

“I agree… and yeah, you’re wrong.”

“I just don’t get it, Ben. Why would she
leave? After everything that’s happened. After what showed up here.
She knows it isn’t safe.”

“We’re talkin’ about Firehair here. You wanna
ask that question again or think about it first?”

“I guess you’re right,” I mumbled then looked
back toward the storm door. The condensation had obscured the view
once again. “I suppose we’re going to look like idiots when she
rolls back into the driveway with groceries or something.”

“Yes and no,” my friend replied with a
sideways bob of his head. “When it turns out ta’ be nothin’, yeah,
it might look like an overreaction on the surface; but, under the
circumstances, this is all warranted. Besides, ain’t a copper I
know of who wouldn’t rather have a call turn out ta’ be nothin’,
rather than somethin’. Believe me, we live for that shit.”

Ben’s cell began trilling in his pocket, so
he dug it out and answered it.

“Yeah, Storm… Uh-huh… Yeah… Where? North or
south? Okay, any sign of ‘er? Okay. How’s it look? Yeah. That’s
good. Okay. Thanks.”

I was talking before he had even managed to
switch the device off. “What? What is it?”

“Firehair’s Jeep is sittin’ on the north lot
at the Galleria. Call just came in.”

“That’s less than a mile from here.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Is she…”

“All they found is the Jeep, Row, but it’s
parked and locked. No sign of any foul play. Like I said earlier,
she’s probably inside shoppin’. They’re gonna page ‘er. C’mon, grab
your coat and we’ll go over there.”

The drive was short; still, with traffic it
took us a handful of minutes before we pulled off the main drag
into the entrance of the large indoor mall. Ben turned early and
aimed his van across the less crowded portion of the front parking
lot before cutting over toward the far side of the shopping
center.

As we rounded the corner and entered the
north lot, I spotted Felicity’s Jeep parked at the far end of the
first row. Angled in behind it were a Briarwood Police cruiser and
a mall security vehicle. As we continued up the aisle, I could see
two uniformed officers standing next to the Jeep chatting with a
petite woman who was gesturing toward the side entrance.

My heart skipped a beat before starting to
race yet again because, other than her small stature, she looked
nothing like my wife.

* * * * *

“W
hy did you do this?” I
asked, confusion in my voice.

“I already told you,” my wife replied.

“Tell me again.”

“Because, I don’t want to look like her.”

I simply stared at her across the kitchen,
unsure of what else to say. As it turned out, I had been mistaken.
The woman talking with the two officers on the mall parking lot
was, in fact, Felicity. In my defense, however, I had a valid
reason for not recognizing her at a distance. The truth is, I even
had a reasonable excuse for doing a double take when I got out of
the van less that twenty feet away from her.

“I still can’t believe you had the police
looking for me,” she countered.

“Why not?” I asked. “After what happened
today? Not to mention that you told me you were going to lock the
door and finish packing, but then I come home and you’re gone. What
kind of reaction did you expect?”

“Aye, you have a point. I suppose I should
have left you a note.”

“You shouldn’t have gone out to begin
with.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“Maybe I am, but I think maybe you’re under
reacting.”

She simply shrugged and continued to look at
me with her head cocked to the side, a mildly curious look in her
eyes. I don’t suppose I could blame her. I was still staring at
her, just as I had been for several minutes. I couldn’t even
remember the last time I had blinked.

“It will grow back, Rowan,” Felicity
announced after a moment then leaned back against the counter and
folded her arms across her chest. “Really, it will.”

“Yeah, I know,” I replied. “But… I don’t
know…”

Her cascading tresses, which once reached
down to her waist, now came to a blunt end just below her
shoulders. While there was still a good bit of body to them in the
form of a rippling wave, the loosely spiraling curls were all but
gone as well. However, radical as those changes were, even they
paled in comparison to the fact that her color had gone from fiery
red to inky black.

As she looked back at me now, her ivory
complexion appeared ghostly white beneath the stark contrast of the
straight-banged, retro hairstyle. I knew I didn’t have a say in the
matter. It was her hair, not mine. But, I’d never seen her with
short hair before, much less any color other than her natural red,
so I was more than just a little taken aback.

“But what?” she asked, prompting me for the
rest of my aborted sentence.

“You just look… Well… Different.”

“Good. That’s what I wanted.”

“Really different,” I repeated with added
emphasis.

“You don’t like it?” she asked.

“It’s not that… It’s just… I mean… I just
think it’s going to take some getting used to.”

“Gonna be kinda hard ta’ call ya’ Firehair
now,” Ben announced from his seat at the table.

“Aye, the color is temporary,” Felicity
replied, twisting a lock of her new coif around her finger and
pulling it up where she could glance at it from the corner of her
eye. “It will wash out over the next couple of weeks. Of course, if
I decide I like it I can get a more permanent dye job.”

“Could we maybe just take things one step at
a time?” I appealed.

“Don’t worry,” she replied. “I was only
kidding. I like my natural color.”

I tried not to be obvious about my relieved
sigh but failed miserably. Fortunately, she took it in stride and
merely grinned.

“Well, I’ll say this much,” I offered. “You
definitely seem to be in a better mood than you were when we left
earlier.”

“Aye, it’s amazing what getting your hair
done will do for your attitude,” she replied with a smile. “Now,
what are we going to have for dinner? I’m starving.”

“Well, after you two finish gettin’ packed,
we can pick up somethin’ on the way to my place,” Ben offered.
“I’ll buy.”

“Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you,” Felicity
replied. “I changed my mind. We’re staying here.”

“You’re what?” he asked, a healthy note of
surprise in his tone.

“Don’t worry,” my wife replied, her demeanor
remaining entirely nonchalant. “I’ll still let you buy.”

“A
re you going to need to
run home for some fresh clothes or anything?” I asked.

“No,” Ben replied with a shake of his head.
“Got an overnight bag in the van for emergencies.”

“Emergencies?”

“Yeah, emergencies,” he repeated,
shooting me an obvious
you know what I
mean
kind of look.

“Oh, like when you stay over at Con…”

“Yeah,” he said, cutting me off before I
could get any more than the first syllable of Constance’s name out
of my mouth. “Emergencies.”

In the context of his profession as a cop,
the subject of sex was never a stumbling block in conversations. It
was just another part of the job, and he would discuss it with
unabashed candor as long as it applied to a crime at hand. When it
came to his personal life, and especially that of his friends,
however, simply hinting at it could send him into an almost painful
fit of modesty.

You just never knew with Ben. On rare
occasions, he would make a comment filled with sexual innuendo or
even publicly flirt like there was no tomorrow. But, more often
than not, even a casual mention of anything remotely related to sex
was taboo where he was concerned—even a comment as innocuous as him
spending the night at his girlfriend’s apartment.

Obviously, tonight was one of those times
when the subject was off-limits. It was a good thing Felicity was
downstairs in her office finishing up a project for one of her
clients, otherwise he wouldn’t be getting any peace at all. She
always seemed to take great pleasure in making him squirm whenever
he displayed his timidity on the matter.

At the moment, my friend and I were standing
on the front porch, each with a cigar smoldering beneath a crooked
finger. Since Felicity was in the house alone, we left the front
door standing open with only the glass of the storm door to keep
the cold from seeping in. It wasn’t exactly energy efficient, but
Ben insisted on having a clear view of the interior. Ostensibly, it
was so he could keep an eye out in case Annalise was to elect to
come here, somehow slip around us, and break in through the back
door. However, I knew such reasoning was nothing more than a
convoluted excuse. He really wanted to be sure Felicity stayed put.
Ever since her earlier excursion, he had been preoccupied with her
uncharacteristic behavior. He hadn’t said as much just yet, but I
could tell it was coming.

Our attempts to reason with my wife over her
decision to remain here had gotten us nowhere fast. She had decided
that we were staying here in our own home, and there didn’t seem to
be anything either of us could say to dissuade her from it. With
each appeal, she had countered with any one of several reasons such
as work, or the animals. All of which were easily dismissed.
However, logic, or at least our version thereof, wasn’t something
she seemed interested in embracing. She had stood her ground, and
in the end it all came down to her stating in a matter of fact
tone, “Because I’ve made up my mind, and that’s how it’s going to
be.”

Short of actually placing us both in
protective custody, which for all intents and purposes meant
under arrest
, there was little Ben
could do other than give in. He did, however, make his own
proclamation, that being very simply—if we weren’t coming to stay
with him, then he was staying with us. Fortunately, my wife didn’t
seem to have a problem with that compromise.

“Listen, Kemosabe, don’t take this the wrong
way,” Ben started carefully after a lengthy silence. “But, I think
your wife has gone right over the fuckin’ edge.”

Finally, he was dropping the bomb I had been
expecting all evening.

“I’m hoping it’s just an after effect of the
shock,” I replied.

“So, it ain’t just me? You think she’s actin’
flaky too?”

“I don’t know if flaky is the word I’d use,
but she’s definitely not acting like herself. And, yeah, I’m a
little concerned. Not as much as you though, apparently.”

“Jeezus, Row, she went and got all ‘er damn
hair cut off and dyed black. Then she decided on ‘er own that you
two are stayin’ here, and wouldn’t even listen… Sheesh… If that
ain’t flaky I don’t know what is.”