“Uh-huh… Well, maybe you’re right, but that don’t make it any less weird-ass fucked up. Know what I mean?”
I let out my own sigh then hung my head and contemplated the asphalt surface of the pathway. “I’ll give you that.”
When I looked up again he was still frowning and massaging his neck. After a moment he let his hand drop then glanced at his watch again. Casting another gaze over his shoulder at the access road, he sighed, “Looks like it’s startin’ ta’ break up a bit. Should be in good shape in a minute or two.”
“Yeah,” I replied with a nod.
“Rowan, why don’t you go ahead and give me your keys then,” Felicity said, shivering as she spoke. “I think maybe I will go warm up in the truck. Besides, I’m sure I need to fix my makeup.”
“You’re pretty enough just like you are,” I told her but still dug around in my pocket and extracted the keys then handed them to her.
“Aye and you’re blind,” she returned. “I’d rather check for myself.”
I could hear in her voice that the words had been delivered on automatic. They were her pat response to being told she looked just fine, and right now she was too emotionally preoccupied for anything more interactive. I envied her that, but not in a begrudging sense. I would have a chance to take my feelings off hold later. I hoped.
In reality, her desire to wait in the truck was serendipitous. I still had a question for Ben, but it was something I didn’t want to ask with Felicity around. It had been starting to look as though it was going to have to wait, but now a fresh opportunity was emerging. Of course, given the nature of the question and the fact that I had just poked holes in the thin fabric of my friend’s already tenuous belief in the paranormal, I wasn’t sure he would take me seriously. At the very least, I knew I was once again going to be playing the hypocrite in his eyes.
“You take care of yourself, Felicity,” Ben told her. “Do me a favor and tell Mona I’ll be by later, okay?”
“I will,” she answered, detaching from me and stepping forward to give him a hug. “I’m sure she would appreciate that. You’ll give Constance our love, then?”
“Yeah, will do.” He gave her a squeeze in return while saying. “You gonna be okay?”
“Aye,” she said. “Eventually.”
“Ya’know she was doin’ ‘er job, right? Constance doesn’t blame you for what happened.”
“You can’t know that, Ben.”
“Yeah, I can. Trust me, it’s a cop thing.”
“Maybe so,” my wife replied as she pulled away, tears starting to well in her eyes again. “But that doesn’t…”
“I’m tellin’ ya’ don’t go there…” he returned, cutting her off as he reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “She may be a Feeb, but she’s still a badge. She was doin’ ‘er job. B’sides, she’s gonna be fine.” He let out a nervous chuckle that sounded as if he was trying to reassure himself as much as her, then added, “Ya’ don’t really think she’s gonna let me off the hook that easy, do ya’?”
I caught a glimpse of a forced smile pulling at the corner of her mouth as she tried to respond to his attempt at cheering her up and then watched as her lips quickly turned back into a frown. She shot a glance toward me, and I could see in her expression that she was wrestling with a different guilt entirely. I had a feeling I knew the source of the anguish all too well because I was feeling it too. And I suspected the two of us weren’t the only ones fending off the pain it brought. Ben probably was as well but when it came right down to it, none of us wanted to be the first to confess the sin.
She looked back at him and said, “Thank you,” before turning fully to face me and adding, “Don’t be long?”
Her voice was soft, yet held the benign note of insistence that was so often exchanged between husbands and wives, telling me she wanted to be on the way soon. When I looked into her eyes, however, a “demand” wasn’t what I saw.
If anything, she wore an expression that was no less than a pleading question mark.
CHAPTER 3:
Ben and I both watched after Felicity as she walked down the path and started along the edge of the access road rather than chance crossing the soft ground in heels. The hard sound of her shoe soles against the asphalt dulled with each step she took, but I continued to gaze in her direction until she disappeared behind the end of a small hedgerow.
Certain she was out of earshot, my friend turned to me and asked, “Whaddaya think? She really gonna be okay?”
“Yeah, she’ll be fine. Like she said, it’s just going to take some time,” I replied, nodding my head. “She hasn’t really had the opportunity to decompress yet, obviously. Neither of us has. There are just things we both still have to come to terms with.”
I left it at that. I wasn’t about to get into a deep explanation. Not here, and not now. There was something sacrosanct about the moment and location that made me feel like doing so would be blasphemous, even in a secular sense. Besides, in my mind at least I had something more important that needed to be addressed. Unfortunately, right now my friend was intent on being just that, a friend, so he continued to probe out of concern.
“So what about you, Row? You holdin’ on?”
“I have to-for now anyway. We can’t have both of us turning into basket cases simultaneously.”
“Why not? If ya ask me ya’ both deserve it after what you’ve been through.”
“I won’t argue with you there.” I shrugged. “But, my time will come later. Right now she needs it more.”
“Yeah, I know what ya’ mean… So have ya’ been talkin’ ta’ Helen at least?” he asked, referring to his sister, who was not only a friend but a therapist who had helped all of us cope with some of the horrors we had faced over the years.
“Not yet, but we will.”
“Good. Make it soon, ‘kay?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Soon.”
He huffed out a sigh and looked back toward the dispersing traffic once again. “So, listen, I hate ta’ run, but you need ta’ get back ta’ Firehair, and I really should go ahead and get movin’. I’ll catch up with you two and let ya’ know how Constance is doin’, okay?”
He reached to shake hands, so I extended my own out of reflex. A moment later he was turning to leave, and I realized I was completely sidetracked. I had allowed his concern for Felicity and me to dominate the remainder of our conversation, and now my unexpected opportunity was about to escape.
“Hey, Ben,” I blurted, just as he was about to take a step. “Before you go can I ask you something?”
“Yeah, what’s up?” he said, stopping and turning back to face me.
The question I had for him was one I wasn’t so sure he was going to want to answer-for several reasons, not the least of which could be where it might lead. I started to ask it anyway, but then hesitated as my mind flashed on the still fresh memories of the recent investigation-in particular, a victim Annalise Devereaux had literally trampled to death, using his prurient fetish as a vehicle for his demise and in the process, her own twisted gratification. My query was directly related to something she had done with that victim’s blood, and it was weighing on me heavily. In fact, it had been ever since I’d seen it.
Obviously, my pause was longer than I imagined because Ben furrowed his brow and looked at me with worry in his eyes as he gave me a verbal nudge. “What’s wrong, Row?”
“Sorry…” I told him, then let out a heavy sigh and asked, “Remember when we were at the scene of the Lewis homicide?”
“Yeah, I may be on the downhill slide ta’ fifty but I ain’t senile yet. That was just a few days ago, white man.”
“So then I’m sure you remember the piece of spellwork Annalise did in the kitchen with the blood and the cloves, right?”
“Well yeah… It was the reason I took ya’ there ta’ begin with.”
“Exactly. Do you know if anyone ever found the bottle or jar that she used?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard. But I’m on suspension, so I don’t exactly get daily reports. Why?”