All Acts Of Pleasure: A Rowan Gant Investigation (4 page)

I gave Helen a shallow nod after considering
her response to my explanation. “Yeah, but I’m obviously not doing
a lot of speaking to anybody in this one.”

“This is true.”

I waited a moment then added. “Well,
there is one thing I know for sure, and that’s what I’m
praying
for
.”

“And, that would be?”

“I’m ashamed to admit it, but what I’m
praying for is that this time it won’t be me. As selfish as that
sounds, I want her to hurt someone else and not me.”

“Her?” Helen asked, cocking her head to the
side once again and raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” I replied with a shrug then
dug into my pocket for a lighter. “It’s like the arousal and
callousness with the footsteps. I just have this overwhelming sense
of a female presence in connection with the terror and pain.
There’s definitely a woman at the root of it, but I couldn’t begin
to tell you who she is.”

She clucked her tongue then gave her head a
shake, looking at me with an expression that said she had reached a
conclusion she was not yet ready to share. Not in direct terms,
anyway.

“I do not believe that is entirely true,” she
said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean perhaps you do not know for certain
who she is, but you have a definite suspicion. That suspicion is
exactly why you are here talking to me now.”

I huffed out a heavy breath as my response. I
was feeling only a small amount of relief at unloading the painful
information to begin with, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to take
things the direction Helen was now heading. Of course, her
high-powered perception was the very reason I sought her out; it
just wasn’t always comfortable being under the polished surface of
her lens.

Pressing on, I tried to bypass the inference.
“Yeah, well…anyway, to answer your earlier question, that’s when I
wake up…and, my heart is pounding in my chest; thudding against my
ribcage so hard I can literally hear it. Just exactly like in the
nightmare.”

“And, is that always how it ends?”

“Pretty much. Most of the time, anyway.” I
nodded. “There’ve been a few times when it went a bit further. I’ll
hear a creak of an opening door, and then the footsteps will
actually make it into the room with me. Then, the wailing and
crying of the others gets louder, but that’s pretty much it. It’s
never progressed beyond that point. Not yet, anyway.”

“And, you never see her? The woman?”

“See? No. Feel, yes.”

“Does she feel familiar?”

“Can’t say for sure. Maybe.”

“Are you certain of that?”

I lifted my shoulders then allowed them to
drop. “Yeah. Okay. She feels familiar.”

“Mmmhmmm,” Helen pursed her lips and nodded
as she made the noise. “And, how often did you say this is
recurring?”

“Never less than twice a night since it
started, and that was right at a week ago today. Last night was the
worst yet. I can remember waking up five times in a total panic,
but there may have been more. I’m not sure. That’s pretty much why
I called you this morning. It just keeps getting worse…Oh, and I’m
not sure if I said thanks for fitting me in by the way.”

“Of course, Rowan,” Helen replied. “That is
never a problem.”

“Well, I took a chance. I wasn’t sure if you
would be taking some time off after your father’s funeral or
not.”

Her father’s recent passing had been another
of the reasons I had endured the nightmare as long as I had.

“We all grieve in different ways, Rowan,” she
said, leaving the sentence to stand on its own as an explanation.
“Speaking of gratitude, I appreciate that Felicity and you came to
the service. I am certain that my brother did as well.”

“It’s the least we could do…and, I’ll take
your word for it about Ben. We haven’t really spoken lately.”

“Because of the investigation? I know he has
been very busy.”

“That’s my guess. He hasn’t returned any of
my calls.”

“I would not be too concerned. As I said, we
all grieve in different ways. Delving into his work is simply
Benjamin’s way.”

“I hope you’re right,” I returned. “Either
way, thanks again for fitting me in.”

“Well, keep this between the two of us, but
even had I taken time off, I would have managed something for you.
I have learned that when you feel the need to call me, it is not to
be taken lightly.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I
think.”

“It was, in a manner of speaking.”

She didn’t embellish her reply and that
wasn’t unusual, so I didn’t press the point. Since I seemed to have
been moderately successful in diverting the topic from her earlier
succinct insinuation, I finally relaxed a bit. Seizing the
opportunity, I relit my cigar and puffed on it thoughtfully then
gave the business end a quick inspection to make sure the glow was
relatively even. Satisfied, I stuffed the lighter into my pocket
and leaned back against the rail.

“So,” I spoke after an extended pause. “What
do you think about the nightmare, Doc? Anxiety? Chemical imbalance?
Or, have I finally just lost it?”

She let out a thin “hmph” but kept her
attention focused on the cigarette in her hand. I wasn’t bothered
at all by the wordless reply because I knew it simply meant she was
still digesting everything I had been saying over the past quarter
hour. Of course, knowing her as I did, I should have realized that
it also meant I hadn’t really changed her course at all.

After a moment, she spoke. “It is most
certainly anxiety, but you already knew that. However, the truly
important question here is ‘what do
you
think’, Rowan?”

“Well, that sounds like a typical response
right out of the therapist handbook,” I commented with a
chuckle.

She let out a small laugh as well. “Yes, I
suppose it does, but since you attempted to circumvent my earlier
observation, I am now electing to pose it to you as a direct
question.”

“Caught that, did you?” I grunted the
question.

“Was there any doubt that I would?” she
countered.

“Well, I was hoping…”

“Rowan, we both know that in your case there
is more to this nightmare than a bad horror movie or too much
anchovy pizza for a midnight snack.”

“Now, see, I was hoping you would tell me
that’s exactly what this is.”

“But, you know better than that, do you
not?”

I let out a resigned sigh before I gave her
the answer. “Yes, unfortunately, I do. For one thing, I don’t watch
horror movies. I see enough of it without them.”

“Exactly my point.”

“Yeah, well, even so I was still hoping we
couldn’t rule out the anchovy pizza.”

“You are evading again, Rowan.”

“Uh-huh, I know. Can you blame me?”

“No, I do not suppose that I can. However,
you also know that with me you cannot get away with it.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Good of you to notice,” she replied, a hint
of faux-conceit in her voice that was almost instantly replaced by
measured seriousness. “Now, tell me…who do you believe the woman in
your nightmare to be?”

“Honestly, I think she’s probably the woman
who killed Hammond Wentworth and Officer Hobbes.”

“Really?”

“You sound surprised.”

“No, not surprised,” she returned with a
shake of her head. “Disappointed.”

“About what?”

“About the fact that you are still trying to
evade my question.”

“I’m not sure I follow, because I’m fairly
certain I just answered it.”

“You gave me an answer, but you did not tell
me the truth.”

“Come again?”

“Rowan, be honest. We both know that you did
not seek me out to tell me you believe you are having nightmares
about an unidentified killer in an ongoing murder investigation. As
insane as it may sound to the general populous, for you, that is
the norm. No, there is a vastly deeper issue here that you cannot
begin to overcome until you admit to it.”

“Okay,” I returned with a shrug. “Since we
seem to be on completely different pages here, would you like to
share your insight?”

“Borrowing your analogy, we are both on the
same page and you know it. You, however, are choosing not to read
what is upon it.” Helen shook her head and peered back at me with
obvious sadness in her expression. “You know, Rowan, for someone
with the depth of intuition you possess, it amazes me how difficult
you can elect to be at times, especially when it comes to your own
sanity.”

I raised my eyebrows and harrumphed softly.
“Yeah. You aren’t the first person to make that observation.”

“I am certain of that.”

“So…you’re going to make me say it, aren’t
you?”

“We cannot discuss this fully until you
do.”

“I don’t want to.”

“All right, start there. Why not?”

“Because if I do…well, if I do then that
might make it real. I can’t let it be real. Hell, I came here so
you could tell me that it’s not.”

“I understand that.”

“Okay then. So you obviously know what it is.
Just tell me I’m being paranoid, and we’ll be done with all
this.”

“Me telling you what you want to hear will
not fix the issue. You know that, Rowan.”

“Okay, so what will?”

“You facing your fear.”

“Facing my fear? Are you kidding? Haven’t I
faced enough of those for one lifetime?”

“Actually, my friend, you have come nose to
nose with more fears than anyone I know, and I commend you for
that. But, by the same token, you have turned and run from just as
many, if not more.”

“Some of them just don’t need facing,
Helen.”

“Perhaps you are correct. It is true that
some fears are transient. However, this one is not, and it will
haunt you if you run from it. You know this. That is why you are
here now.”

I slowly twisted around and looked out at the
scattered clouds in the sky. It was now a given that we were going
to veer down this road whether I wanted to or not.

“All right,” I finally agreed as I hung my
head. “I’m afraid the woman in the nightmare might be
Felicity.”

Felicity.

Felicity Caitlin O’Brien, to be exact—my
wife, and unequivocally the greatest love of my life.

It sickened me that this vile thought could
even cross my mind. And, that exact thought was also the very
reason why I had gone to great lengths to hide this recurring
nightmare from her.

Normally, I could tell Felicity anything.
Close simply wasn’t strong enough a word to describe our
relationship. We were without a doubt, soul mates, and not in the
new-agey, soft-focus sense of the overused catchphrase. There was a
depth of connection between the two of us that transcended normal
bonds of love and friendship.

“Good,” Helen announced calmly after a brief
pause. “Now we are progressing.”

“I’m glad someone thinks so,” I mumbled.

“Tell me, why do you think the woman in your
nightmare is Felicity?”

“I said
might
be
.”

“Yes, you did. However, that does not answer
my question.”

“I don’t know.”

“I think that you do.”

“Well maybe you’re wrong for a change.”

“Perhaps. No one is ever correct one-hundred
percent of the time,” she admitted. “However, I would hazard to say
that this is not one of the times when I have fallen from my
pedestal.” She made an overt show of rocking back and forth as if
checking her footing. “No, it feels quite solid. I am still up
here.”

I couldn’t help but crack a thin smile at her
theatrics. I knew that while she was serious, this brush with humor
was her attempt at bolstering my mood, which was sinking rapidly.
What made it even more effective was that it was so out of
character for her.

“Well,” I began, allowing the brief levity to
push me into a fragile sense of security. “It’s complicated. How
much do you know about what has been happening with the Hammond
Wentworth homicide?”

“Very little,” she replied. “Benjamin has not
spoken of it except to say that you and Felicity had been
helping.”

“Nothing else?”

“He did let slip that the two of you were
somehow involved in an incident last week that became somewhat of a
problem. However, he did not provide any details.”

“Incident,” I echoed. “That’s one word for
it.”

“Well, I will admit that when you called I
suspected that it had something to do with what Benjamin had
mentioned. The nightmare, I had not foreseen, however it is obvious
to me that there is a connection.”

“Well, there’s no denying that,” I answered
with a heavy sigh then took a pull on my cigar and rolled the smoke
around on my tongue. After letting it out in a slow stream, I
regarded the dark cylinder as I twisted it between my thumb and
forefinger. Finally, I looked up at Helen who was waiting
patiently. “So, do you have enough time for me to start at the
beginning?”

Without speaking she reached into the pocket
of her coat and extracted her cigarette case. Snapping it open, she
peered into the top then closed it and returned it to the
pocket.

Looking back at me she said, “I have a little
more than a half pack with me. I think we are good.”

I shook my head and almost allowed myself to
chuckle at the seriousness with which she had delivered the reply.
Had the situation been different, I suspect I wouldn’t have been
able to keep from laughing outright.

“Okay, I’ll try to keep it as short a
possible,” I began. “About two weeks ago, right at the height of
the flu epidemic, Felicity got a call from Ben. Apparently there
was a high profile crime scene that needed photos.”

“Judge Wentworth,” Helen interjected.