“If she…”
“Shut up,” I ordered, though my voice remained unruffled. “I’m not finished. You’ve said plenty. It’s my turn.” I paused, and when he didn’t object again I continued. “Now, second, and believe me this is the big one. In fact, this right here is the huge fucking enigma that’s been making my brain hurt ever since you said it. You’re telling me that Felicity sent several letters. Correct?”
“Aye.”
“And I’m guessing since there were several, Shamus got these over a period of time? Weeks? Months? I don’t know, years?”
“Over some time, aye.”
“Why did he wait until now to show them to you?”
He started to reply but didn’t. I could see in his eyes that I’d already set his brain into motion, and what I’d just offered was only a minor point.
“Yeah. Makes you go ‘huh’, doesn’t it?” I said. “In all the times you’ve stood up for me whenever he’s started putting me down or berating me, don’t you think maybe he would have pulled out those letters and proven to you what an evil bastard I am?”
He remained silent, but the look on his face told me I was getting through.
“But, you know, that’s not even the real kicker. Give this one some serious thought and come up with an answer for me, because my evil, coercive brain just can’t wrap itself around the concept. Why is it Shamus didn’t haul his ass over here to rescue his daughter from me the minute he got that very first letter? Hell, from what you’re saying, apparently she asked him to do just that. What was he waiting for?
“I know if I had a daughter, and I had proof that she was in danger, I really don’t think there’s all that much that could stop me from going to her. And, before you say anything, even if he didn’t feel that he wanted a confrontation with me, why didn’t he take the letters to the police? I mean, according to you ‘sacrifices’ were mentioned. Sounds like evidence of illegal activities to me.”
“Yeah, me too,” Ben agreed.
Austin opened his mouth as if to object but once again stuttered to a stop, never fully forming a single word. Now he was really starting to sober up, and while the passage of time and physical exertion had gone a good way toward that end, I knew my questions had played a large part in yanking him back into reality.
The peal of the telephone suddenly issued from across the room, filling the empty wake that had been left behind my words. While the ringer didn’t physically sound any different than any other time, there somehow seemed to be a particular urgency about it that I just couldn’t explain. Even so, I didn’t bother to turn; I simply continued to stare at my brother-in-law. The second ring echoed through the room and still I didn’t move.
“Do you want me to answer that, Rowan?” Constance asked.
My first inclination was to tell her to let the machine get it. After all, it could very well be Shamus, or even the mystery caller who liked hanging up as opposed to talking. However, that odd feeling of urgency tickled the back of my brain and set me wondering just who might be at the other end of the line.
“Yeah,” I replied, never breaking my gaze.
She stepped around me, picking her way through the still trashed house as she headed for the bookshelves. At my back I heard her pick up the handset, cutting off the ringer in the middle of its clamor for attention.
Her voice replaced the bothersome noise a second later, “Gant-O’Brien residence.”
There was expectant pause after her words, but it didn’t last long at all. In fact, only a handful of heartbeats passed before her voice spilled into the room again.
“My God… Are you okay?” she said. “Where are you?”
I was still watching Austin, but I couldn’t help noticing Ben perk up at the words. Turning his attention to look toward her, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
I could only see his half of the silent exchange that went on between them, and what I was privy to turned out to be indecipherable. Finally, Ben furrowed his brow and gave his head a slight shake as if he didn’t fully understand.
“Rowan…” Constance called my name.
Even in my disconnected state, I couldn’t help but notice the strange reverberation woven through her tone. Still, even though I could easily sense it was there, I was unable to tell if the underlying emotion was excitement or fear.
“Yeah?” I answered.
It was then she shattered my newfound calm with the words, “Rowan…it’s Felicity.”
I turned to face her, a full-blown mask of confusion pinned to my features. “Felicity?”
“Felicity?!” Austin yelped.
“You shut up,” Ben ordered him.
Mandalay nodded and held the handset out toward me. I didn’t waste time repeating the question. Stepping around the mess and knocking over a pile of books in the process, I traversed the space between us and took the phone from her.
Placing it to my ear I spoke, “Felicity? What’s wrong?”
“Aye,” her exhausted voice flowed out of the handset. “Could you come pick me up?”
“Pick you up?”
“Aye.”
“What do you…” I started the question then instantly stuttered to a stop as my overactive imagination began putting outlandish scenarios into motion. “Felicity, you didn’t…”
“Didn’t what?” she asked.
“You didn’t break out of jail or something, did you?”
“No,” she replied, her fatigue suddenly even more apparent. I imagined I could see her shaking her head as she made the matter of fact statement. Then, her voice quavered as repressed emotion started to encroach. “They turned me out, Rowan. They…they just let me go.”
I didn’t ask why. There would be time for that later.
“Where are you?”
“I’m in the lobby of the Justice Center.”
“Don’t move. I’m on my way.”
I was through the door before the sound of the handset clattering into the base had even begun to fade.
I was only mildly aware that my name was being called. I heard the voices but wasn’t interested in them. When I shot out the door, I took the stairs in twos, hitting the flagstone walk at a fast jog. It was right about that moment I began to notice that even this, the best thing to happen in the past two days, came fully equipped with obstacles.
The first hurdle that came to light was my congested driveway. The car Austin had driven to the house was angled haphazardly across the end of it, effectively blocking my exit.
It took less than a second for me to decide that something so minor wasn’t going to stop me. The only thing that mattered at that moment was getting to Felicity and bringing her home before someone pinched me because I knew as soon as they did, I would wake up and be back in the nightmare. I also knew that such a fear was irrational, but right now I seemed to be living in a world where irrational was the norm, so I didn’t discount anything. I simply wasn’t going to hesitate and give anyone the chance to take this away. I was fully prepared to drive across the front lawn to get out if need be. It’s not like it would have been the first time. I’d done that very thing once before.
Problem solved, or so I thought.
Roadblock number two turned out to be my keys because when I reached into my pocket, they weren’t there. In my single-minded haste, I had run from the house without them. This one wasn’t going to be quite as easy to make disappear. The only way I was going to overcome it was to go back inside; something I really didn’t want to do because in my mind that constituted a chance for someone to burst this bubble. Unfortunately, there was no way around it.
Of course, this was when I slammed face first into number three, which happened to be Ben and Constance, both of whom had been less than two steps behind me the entire time. And, when I say I slammed into it face first, I mean literally, for when I suddenly turned to go back into the house, the three of us collided.