All Acts Of Pleasure: A Rowan Gant Investigation (27 page)

Of course, I also knew that most of Austin’s
attitude, if not all of it, had to be the alcohol talking. He
really was a level headed and logical man; right up until a bottle
of whisky took hold of his senses. I could only surmise that Shamus
had been firmly behind his state of inebriation, effectively
putting him into the necessary frame of mind to sway him with the
bogus letters. Whether or not it was my father-in-law’s intention
for him to come over here and attack me, well that was a matter for
debate. While in one sense it wouldn’t surprise me, in another I’m
not so certain he would want his hand tipped in my direction just
yet.

I finally shook my head and shrugged.

“Yeah, probably not,” I agreed, then looked
down and regarded the wet, blood stained towel in my hand. Tossing
it onto an end table, I continued to look at my hand for a moment
before looking back to my brother-in-law and continuing. “But, do
me a favor, Austin. When you dry out, I’ve got a couple of things
for you to think over. First, your parents are twenty minutes away.
If Felicity really wanted to get away from me, why didn’t she just
call them? Or better yet, go over there? Why bother sending
letters?”

“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.

Now, I had no choice but to pay attention to
them.

I don’t know if there was a physical
manifestation, but on the inside I know I cringed, fully expecting
a horrific reality to descend upon me once again. Fortunately, it
didn’t, and the bubble held.

It didn’t take long to become apparent that
my plan didn’t fit with the one the two of them had devised between
themselves. Since it was two against one, I didn’t have much hope
for winning. Besides, I was lucid enough to realize that standing
here arguing would just waste even more time, and that was the last
thing I wanted to do. So, rather than perpetuate the disagreement
in tactics, I quickly gave in, surrendering to their scenario.

Ben volunteered to stay behind and handle the
situation with my brother-in-law. Constance drew the duty of taking
me to pick up Felicity. Since they had come in her vehicle, and it
was currently parked on the street in front of the house, we were
unencumbered by both obstacles number one and two. Since they,
themselves, were number three, all barriers were now rendered
moot.

Before we left, both of them offered to give
statements to the local police if I wanted to press charges against
Austin. I pondered the idea then decided against it. I suppose in
the end I made the choice for Felicity’s sake. Given all that she’d
been through, having her husband swearing out a complaint against
her brother probably wasn’t something she needed thrown on the pyre
right now. I will admit, though, I seriously considered it, even if
only for a moment.

What I did tell Ben was that I wanted the man
out of my house before I returned. He may well have been on his way
to coming around since my posing the questions to him, but I wasn’t
interested in taking chances right now. As I was climbing into the
passenger side of Constance’s sedan, my friend guaranteed me that
he would see to my wish, admitting that it was likely to mean a
call to the local police for a patrol car, a Breathalyzer, and a
tow truck.

To be honest, that solution suited me just
fine.

“I just don’t get this,” I said aloud as I
shifted uncontrollably in the passenger seat. It seemed as though I
was infused with enough nervous energy to power a small city, and I
just couldn’t get comfortable. I settled back and tried to stop
myself from fidgeting then added, “I don’t understand what’s going
on.”

The verbal lament wasn’t actually a question;
it was really nothing more than an observation born of frustration
so intense that my brain was no longer willing to keep the thought
to itself. Even so, it was the truth. While I was all about
serendipity, especially in this case, Felicity suddenly being
released without some type of advance notice just didn’t make
sense. I was honestly perplexed by what was happening, and I really
did want to understand.

Of course, the fact that I was less than a
step shy of being officially overwrought certainly wasn’t helping.
I guess my tone conveyed that sense of confusion in spades because
Mandalay took it as a cue to provide a simplistic explanation.

“Something must have happened,” she stated
without embellishment.

I’ll admit I was confused, but I also
hadn’t gone totally dense. Without thinking I fired back a retort,
and this time the unfiltered response was even more heavily rimmed
with the emotional overload. Unfortunately, the bite in my voice
was not only obvious, but also exceptionally unpleasant. “Well,
hell Constance, I think maybe I kind of figured that part out on my
own! The question is
what
?”

She glanced over at me as she eased the
speeding sedan across the full breadth of Highway Forty and settled
into the left lane. Reflected splashes of radiance from a
self-contained deck strobe, which was resting on the dash, cast her
face in a chaotic flicker of red and blue. It allowed me to see
that she was frowning, but it also made her expression seem
terribly harsh. I couldn’t truly be sure if the look she was
wearing was one of anger or merely pity.

I doubt anyone else, least of all the police,
would feel our mission warranted the use of the pulsating emergency
lights, but they had been Constance’s idea, and not mine. Well,
that wasn’t entirely true. She had just managed to pre-empt me
before I made the suggestion myself. In fact, the idea was about to
tumble out of my mouth when I noticed her suction cupping the
device into place.

“Calm down,” she said, shaking her head as
she aimed her eyes back toward the road. Her voice was stern, but
there was no real anger to speak of within the words, just
annoyance. I’m sure she was experiencing her own attack of
frustration, both with the situation and with me. “I’m saying
something has to have happened that seriously undermined their case
against her.”