The Law Of Three: A Rowan Gant Investigation (15 page)

“What is it that would lead you to believe
such a thing?”

“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “Just a
feeling.”

“Is it really a feeling, or is it something
you have conjured in your imagination?”

“Full of questions today, aren’t you?”

“It is my job, Rowan,” she returned with a
smile and cocked her head to the side. “Now, do you happen to have
answers for my questions?”

I raised an eyebrow as I looked back at her.
“I get the impression that I do whether I know it or not.”

“You catch on fast.”

“I can probably find a few people who would
dispute that,” I returned with a grin.

“We all have our critics,” she answered then
brought her free hand up and began tapping her index finger against
her pursed lips as she deepened a crease in her brow. After a
moment, she spoke again. “I am confident that I would not be
breaking a doctor-patient trust by telling you that your feeling is
incorrect. Felicity has no lack of confidence in your ability to
protect her.”

I sighed heavily as I weighed the information
I’d just been given. “I’m sure that should make me feel better, but
unfortunately it doesn’t.”

“Why do you think that is, Rowan?”

“I suspect that the logical answer would be
that I am the one who lacks the confidence.”

“That would be the logical answer, yes.”

“But not the correct answer?” I asked.

“I am certain that it is a part of it, Rowan,
but I believe we both know that it goes somewhat deeper than
that.”

“Okay. How about, I’m afraid?” I said
simply.

“What is it that you fear, Rowan?”

“It isn’t obvious?”

“Why don’t you tell me? Is it so
obvious?”

“Well, I think it is,” I shrugged as I spoke.
“I’m afraid of Porter.”

“Are you really?”

Again, I raised an eyebrow and regarded her
silently for a moment. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m afraid of him. I
mean, the bastard is out to kill me, and he doesn’t seem interested
in giving up on the idea.”

“I am not so certain that you are being
honest with yourself, Rowan.”

“Okay, I’ll bite.”

She drew her lips into a thin frown for a
moment, her expression telling me that she was obviously in search
of the words to express what was on her mind. It didn’t take her
long to track them down.

“As I recall, you are the man who purposely
drove a van through a set of plate glass windows, climbed injured
from the wrecked vehicle, and then headed straight into a situation
where you could have been ambushed by a killer.”

“What does that have to do with
anything?”

“It does not sound like the action of a
fearful man to me.”

“No,” I agreed. “It was the action of a
desperate man. The son-of-a-bitch had kidnapped my wife.”

“All right, perhaps that was not the best
example for you. How about this…Do you remember a conversation we
had a few weeks ago, Rowan, when I asked you why you had chased
Eldon Porter out onto that bridge by yourself instead of
immediately calling the police?”

“You mean the conversation where you refused
to tell me why YOU thought I did it?” I asked with good-natured
sarcasm in my voice. “Vaguely.”

Helen smiled back at me. “You have been
thinking about it then.”

“You could say that.”

“Have you reached any conclusions?”

“You mean other than the fact that it was a
stupid move on my part?”

“I would not necessarily call it a stupid
move, Rowan. You were ill prepared, perhaps, but not stupid. That
is, however, a matter of opinion.”

“I’d have to say that you are in the minority
with that opinion,” I told her.

“Be that as it may, you still have not
answered my question.”

I huffed out a breath and brought my cigar up
to my lips but hesitated without taking a puff. Instead, I watched
the feathery snow as it threw itself against the ground in
gathering clumps, quickly overcoming the landscape with its
whiteness.

“I’ve heard a rumor that I did it because I
have a ‘heroing complex’ and that I’m suicidal,” I finally
responded.

“That would be a pseudo-scientific term
coined by an amateur psychiatrist, I assume?”

“You tell me. You’re the one with the
sheepskin.”

“Let me ask you this. When you have placed
yourself in harm’s way, have you done so in order to seek glory and
recognition?”

“No.”

“Do you want to die?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then, were I you, I would ignore that
diagnosis.”

“I’ll give it a try.”

“Good. Now, you are still not answering my
question, Rowan,” she pressed with gentle firmness. “What I want to
know are the conclusions YOU have reached about why you did
it.”

“I’m not sure that I have, Helen,” I told her
then took a long drag on the cigar and rolled the smoke around in
my mouth. I still wasn’t enjoying it.

She sighed heavily and then joined me in
silently watching the forming snowscape. This sudden inconsistency
in her otherwise calm demeanor was probably the closest to
impatience I’d ever seen in her. Still, her annoyance didn’t seem
to be directly with me although I am sure I played some role in it.
What I felt from her was that she was struggling with a decision
that on an everyday basis she would have easily snubbed out of
principle. After a full measure of heartbeats, she spoke again.

“The situation you currently face has placed
an unfair imperative upon you, Rowan. Normally, I would feel it
best to continue guiding you along your path until you reach a
logical resolution. However, I fear that in this case I may need to
take a more active role, and because of these extraordinary
circumstances, I am going to break one of my own rules.”

“You’re going to tell me I’m a fruitcake?” I
looked back at her with a smile as I cracked the joke.

She ignored my thin attempt at levity and
locked her eyes with mine in a coldly serious gaze. “You are not
afraid of Eldon Porter, Rowan. You are afraid of yourself.”

I blinked.

I thought about what she had just said, and
then I blinked again.

“I’m afraid of myself?” I repeated the
comment back to her as a question.

“Yes, Rowan. You fear yourself. You harbor a
deep-seated fear of the things you are capable of doing.”

“You mean the nightmares? The channeling?
That stuff?”

“That is a part of it, yes,” she explained.
“But in reality, those are simply talents you possess which fuel
your turmoil.”

“I’ll admit the nightmares tend to be pretty
scary, but…”

“No, Rowan,” she interrupted. “Open your eyes
and see beyond the surface. You recently told me that you felt as
though you were on the inside looking out but could see only
darkness, did you not?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I remember something like
that, and as I recall, you told me to use that darkness as a
mirror.”

“Yes.” She smiled and gave me a curt nod to
the affirmative. “Now what I want you to do is look into the
reflection, not merely at it. For you, understanding lies within
the depths of the image.”

I tilted my head forward and removed my
glasses then rubbed my eyes for a moment before sliding the
spectacles back onto my face and returning my gaze to her. “Helen,
your wisdom is starting to sound like the mystical advice of a
little, green swamp creature from the sci-fi movies we all know and
love.”

“Really? I rather saw myself more as a
drifting Shao-Lin monk.” She allowed herself a small chuckle as she
made the reference to the old television show.

I continued with the theme. “So, should I
pluck the pebble from your hand now?”

She returned a brief smile then in almost the
same instant fixed me with a hardcore seriousness in her eyes as
she gazed at my face.

“Levity aside, Rowan, you should heed what I
am telling you, for I cannot give you the full answer. With only a
very few exceptions, I can merely guide you. In this case, guiding
has become a bit of a shove, yes, but I dare not do anything more
lest you lose sight of that which you need to see.”

“So, what you are saying is that I still have
to learn the lesson the hard way.”

“If you are to learn it and not simply hear
it, yes.”

“Okay,” I replied. “I’ll buy that. But what
if I’ve already learned the lesson, and you just think I
haven’t?”

“All right, then.” She looked back at me with
an even gaze. “Enlighten me, Rowan.”

I blurted out my conclusion, “You think I’m
afraid that I might be capable of killing Eldon Porter.”

“Do I?”

I halfway expected her non-committal
response. “Yes.”

“Then I believe you have missed my point
entirely.”

My overblown confidence in the statement was
immediately deflated. “Excuse me?”

She shook her head. “Like I have told you
before, Rowan, it is not about what I think. It is what YOU think
that is important.”

“Okay.” I played along, couching the comment
differently in an attempt to regain my position. “Then, I’m afraid
that, given the opportunity, I might kill Porter.”

“Are you?”

I tilted my head and endeavored to take a
puff on my cigar, only to find that it had gone out. “You were
supposed to say, ‘Correct, Rowan, now pass go and here is your two
hundred dollars.’”

“That prize is not going to come from me,
Rowan. It is an epiphany that will come from inside of you.”

“Helen, you’re making my head hurt.”

She smiled and chuckled once again. “I am
sure that this is not the first time I have done so, Rowan, and I
suspect that it will not be the last.”

“Thanks.” Sincerity permeated my voice.

Helen finished lighting a fresh cigarette and
allowed herself a deep drag then exhaled before looking out across
the yard and answering me. “For what, Rowan?”

“For putting up with my hard-headedness, I
guess.”

“You are most welcome.”

I rummaged about in my pocket for a lighter
and then knocked the dead ash from the end of my cigar. I turned my
back to the wind and shielded the end of the smoke as I brought
fire to it once again, twisting it carefully to keep the ember
even. While I stuffed the lighter back into my pocket, I turned the
stogie around and gazed at the glowing coal as I blew on it,
inspecting for runs. Satisfied, I tucked it back in the corner of
my mouth and puffed as I leaned forward on the deck railing.

“So, back to Felicity,” I finally said.
“She’s seemed kind of edgy—even before she was kidnapped, I mean.
You’re sure she feels safe?”

“I never said that your wife feels safe,
Rowan,” she answered in a no-nonsense tone. “I said that she does
not lack confidence in your ability to protect her.”

“Okay, call me dense, but I don’t see what
the difference is.”

“She has her own fear, Rowan.”

“Has she been any better at recognizing hers
than I am at mine?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, she has.”

“Any chance you could share?”

“No, Rowan. That is something for her to
express if she is to come to terms with it herself.”

“You do know that she’s a Taurus, right?”

“Then I suspect that when she decides to
express her feelings, you will be hard pressed to miss her
point.”

I nodded as I stared out into the falling
snow. “Yeah, but will I end up impaled on it is the question.”

* * * * *

“I thought Albright took you off this case?”
I asked Ben, keeping my voice low.

My friend had just finished telling me that
he’d been in touch with the officers searching the area where the
phone call from Porter had originated. Unfortunately, they were
coming up empty; of course, I had expected that to be the case.

“Yes and no,” he answered, keeping his voice
hushed as well. “I’m not involved in the investigation, but I just
got officially assigned to you and Firehair.”

We were standing in the kitchen, both of us
working on steaming mugs of coffee. It was probably the best cup
I’d had in a month and most certainly the best I’d had today: a
rich, flavorful brew derived from freshly ground Kona beans with
just a hint of cinnamon and hazelnut in the background. We owed
this small pleasure to the fact that Nancy had always been the
connoisseur of the drink within our group; therefore, her pantry
was always fully stocked with the finer makings of java.

“Bodyguard duty?” I asked before taking a sip
of my drink.

He nodded. “Somethin’ like that, yeah.”

“So maybe she had a change of heart,” I
offered. “She knows that we’re friends.”

“Dream on, white man.” He shook his head and
frowned as he spoke. “She wants ta’ make sure she can find us. It’s
her way of keepin’ me under her thumb.”

I nodded in understanding. “If you’re
watching us then she knows where you are at all times.”

“Where we ALL are,” he added. “‘Zactly.”

I gave him a quick shrug. “Could be
worse.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “At least this way I can
keep my finger in without raisin’ too much suspicion.”

“You know, Ben,” I began. “If your connection
with me is going to screw up your career…”

“Haven’t we talked about this before?” he
interrupted.

“I’m just saying…”

He held up his hand and gave his head a quick
shake. “Forget it. My career, my decision, end of story.”

Looking past my friend for a moment, I
watched as Felicity re-filled her own cup. She was standing in the
pass-thru alcove between the kitchen and the dining room.

Just by looking at her, you couldn’t
tell that she was worn out, but I knew better. We were all running
on adrenalin, caffeine, and extended second winds; at least
she
looked good doing it, which was
more than I could say for myself.