My world begins to fade.
Twilight.
An endless scream, “Why, Rowan, why?”
Darkness.
Falling.
Impact.
I refused to go to the hospital. My head was still throbbing, and I needed to clean myself up, but I was firmly convinced that there was nothing wrong with me that couldn’t be fixed by getting away from this house and drinking a cup of willow bark tea. I had to voice my protestations several times, each with increasing fervor, but eventually Deckert, the paramedics, and the uniformed officer resigned themselves to the fact that I had made up my mind.
From what Detective Deckert told me, he had started growing concerned after I had been inside the house for little more than an hour and had come over to have a look. He searched the rooms on the ground level and finding them empty, assumed I had gone into the basement. I’ll never forget the look on his face as he came to this point in the story and announced, “This is where it starts ta’ get kinda weird.”
Acting on his assumption, he headed for the basement stairs, only to find the door jammed tightly shut. The handle seemed almost frozen in place, and he couldn’t turn it no matter how hard he tried. He said he called out to me several times but never received an answer. Thankfully, growing even more concerned, he went to his car to obtain a tire tool with which to pry the stubborn door open.
“So this really cold wind came rushing up the freakin’ stairs the minute I got the door open,” he told me, eyes wide as he continued his story. “And I woulda’ swore I heard someone laughing. Y’know, evil, like from one of those horror flicks.”
He found me lying unconscious at the bottom of the steps, face down in the dirt and streaked with blood. He immediately called the paramedics, and I had regained consciousness around the time they arrived at the house.
It was already after eleven in the evening when we walked into the Major Case Squad command post. The last thing I remembered before having the latest vision was discovering that my nose was bleeding, followed by a pain resembling a Louisville Slugger being stopped by my face. The nightmare still resided somewhere in my grey matter but for some reason, had become only a ghost of itself, lacking in the crisp details of my other visions. I hoped that the dullness was only the result of the pounding headache that was still threatening to break free of my skull and that the specifics would come back into sharper focus once it subsided. One thing I knew for certain was that I had witnessed something very important on that ethereal journey. Now I just needed to remember what it was.
Ben gave me a few moments to wash my face and down a handful of aspirin, in lieu of willow bark tea, before he hustled me into one of the smaller conference rooms. The look on his face was more than enough to tell me that the meeting wasn’t going to be a good one.
“Goddammit, Rowan!” No longer able to contain his anger, Ben ruptured. “What the hell were you thinkin’?!”
He had barely closed the door behind Deckert and Special Agent Mandalay. I doubted that it mattered whether or not he waited, since his voice surely carried through most of the police station anyway.
“I was looking for answers,” I returned meekly.
“Answers to what?”
“Why. The answer to why. In every nightmare, Ariel asks me why.”
“You mean why is this asshole killin’ people?” His voice had lowered in volume, but my answer only served to raise it again. “Who knows? Maybe he walked in on his parents screwin’ when he was a kid. Maybe his high school prom date stood him up. They’ve got a million excuses these days. Why’s it fuckin’ matter now? We know who he is.”
“It might not matter at all.” I dabbed at my nostrils with a tissue. The bleeding had long since stopped, but the phantom tingling remained, making me feel as though it was starting all over again. “That might not even be the ‘why’ she is asking… I don’t know… It could just be her way of keeping me from giving up.”
“Let me get this straight.” Agent Mandalay was still leaning against the wall, arms folded across her chest. Her studious gaze hadn’t left me since we entered the room. “You jeopardized this investigation because you think a dead woman is talking to you in your dreams?”
“I didn’t jeopardize anything,” I told her matter-of-factly, avoiding a direct answer to her question. “Roger Henderson isn’t going to return to that house and we all know it.”
“You really do.” She stared back incredulously, reading between the lines of my non-answer. “You think you’re communicating with a ghost or something!” She turned to Ben and gesticulated at me as if I were on display. “That’s it! Now I’m officially convinced that he needs a psychiatrist. I want him off this investigation now.”
Ben started to protest angrily, “Hold on a minute, I…”
“NO! You hold on a minute, Storm,” she insisted vehemently, “I want him out of here.”
“This is still my investigation, and I say he stays.”
“Not anymore. Pursuant to the federal kidnapping statute of nineteen thirty-two, this case falls under the Bureau’s jurisdiction. It’s my investigation now.”
“C’mon,” Detective Deckert tried to interject, “Rowan’s right. This fruitcake wasn’t comin’ back to the house. It was a long shot and we knew it. I tell ya’, something real strange was happening in that place.”
She wheeled quickly around to face him. “Maybe you need an appointment with a shrink, too!”
“You weren’t there,” he shot back, “besides, whattabout last night? Rowan told us where ta’ find the little girl’s dress and all that.”
“Lucky guess,” she stated flatly and turned back to Ben. “I’m calling in to the field office to let them know I’m taking over this investigation. I want him out of here by the time I’m off the phone.”
None of us spoke for a long minute after Agent Mandalay stomped out of the room, slamming the door hard behind her. I winced slightly as the noise pierced my still aching head.
“Well,” Ben puffed out his cheeks as he sighed, “I guess that’s that.”
“I’m sorry, Ben,” I looked up from the floor. “For what it’s worth, I was just trying to help.”
“Hell, ya’ just gave her somethin’ else ta’ flex her muscles about,” he grunted. “She pretty much took over the investigation this afternoon anyway. Now she’s just makin’ it official.”
“I just wish I could remember the vision I had. I’m sure it means something.”
“Have you been able to remember any of it?” Deckert queried.
“Not really,” I answered. “Just something about not being able to breathe, but that could’ve been my own anxiety. I don’t know. If this headache would just go away…”
“Maybe if ya’ get some rest,” Ben volunteered. “You can always call me if you remember somethin’. You got my cell phone number.”
“Yeah, I can do that. I’m still sorry for causing all the trouble though.”
“Hey, no prob, white man,” he returned as he gazed through the thick window that was the top half of the door. “The dragon lady’s got nothin’ on what’s waitin’ out there for you.”
“Huh?” I gave him a confused grunt.
In answer, he simply pointed into the distance outside the window. I slipped my glasses back onto my face and stepped over next to him. Peering in the direction he indicated, I immediately saw what he was referring to.
Red hair tousled about, green eyes glowing harshly, and Irish temper fully aflame, Felicity was striding across the room.
CHAPTER 26
I told you I’ve already gone through this with Ben,” I explained to Felicity as she viciously up-shifted the Jeep and sped onto Highway 170, aiming north toward where my truck was still parked.
She had begun reading me the riot act from the moment we left the MCS command post. While we were still inside, I had been subjected to the patented Felicity O’Brien silent treatment. It was shaping up to be a very long night.