Blood Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation (34 page)

“Yeah, I know,” he muttered as he scribbled. “You’re
sure.” He turned and looked toward some of the other cops a few
feet away. “Hey… Yeah, you. Is there a South Millston Street around
here anywhere?”

“No,” the deputy replied, shaking his head. “Don’t
know of one in the immediate area. Maybe in Saint Charles.”

“Okay, thanks.” Ben pulled out his phone and
directed himself back to me. “I’m gonna call in and have dispatch
run a search for me. Just so ya’ know, this is prob’ly gonna take a
coupl’a minutes, so ya’ need ta’ just get a grip and calm
down.”

I stooped and snatched up my jacket from the asphalt
where it had been dropped during the earlier havoc. I slipped into
it while he started punching a number into the keypad of his cell.
I wasn’t excited about the delay, but there was nothing else I
could do. At least he was starting the ball rolling instead of
interrogating me further.

I let out a heavy sigh then glanced around and
spotted Felicity leaning against a light standard in the distance,
well on the opposite side of the crime scene tape. If there was
going to be a wait, then now was as good a time as any for me to
start my own ball down the lane.

“Well let me know what you find out,” I said to my
friend, my voice unintentionally sharp. I nodded my head in the
direction of my sulking wife then added, “I’ll be over there
finding out how long I’m going to be sleeping on the couch.”

* * * * *

“Why do you have to be so reckless, then?” Felicity
asked, her voice calm but still betraying a definite subtext of
annoyance.

I had taken it as a good sign that she didn’t simply
walk away when I approached. She was still leaning back against the
light standard, and I was next to her doing the same, more or less
sitting on the edge of the large concrete base and pressing the
back of my head against the cold post. At first it seemed to afford
a little relief from the pain in my skull, but as expected it
didn’t last long.

We had been standing in silence for a long measure.
I was keeping an eye on Ben as he talked on the phone while at the
same time trying to focus my aching brain on a suitable apology I
could offer my wife. I certainly wasn’t going to say something
empty just to get myself out of hot water. I wanted to honestly
attempt to make amends to her. I just wasn’t sure where to start
except to simply say I was sorry, which seemed a bit lame under any
circumstances.

Since I was finding myself at a loss for the
appropriate verbiage, she beat me to the punch with her
straightforward question being the first thing either of us had
uttered. I was actually a bit surprised that she was talking to me
in such an even tone. Had she snarled a string of acerbic Gaelic at
me, it would have been much closer to what I was expecting.

I paused then grunted in response, “That’s a good
question.”

“I’m serious, Row.”

“I know you are,” I offered with a heavy sigh. “I
just don’t have a good answer.”

Quiet fell between us again for several heartbeats,
and I waited for her reply, watching my breath condense in a frosty
cloud in front of me before dissipating into nothingness.

Finally, I heard Felicity sigh and shuffle as she
repositioned herself against the post. “You know I think what
bothers me the most is that I know I would probably have done the
same thing.”

“Yeah, you’ve had your share of moments too,” I
replied.

“You needn’t remind me,” she said.

“Sorry.”

“Aye, now
that
, you definitely needed to
say.”

“I thought I might,” I said. “Sorry about the whole
thing with the car too. I just felt I needed the strength of the
physical connection if I was going to get anything tangible.”

She responded without pause. “I know.”

“It worked…” I offered sheepishly.

“I heard,” she replied. “I think everyone did. You
were your usual vociferous self where that was concerned.”

“They weren’t listening.”

“I know.”

I glanced toward Ben for a visual check on his
progress. He still had his cell phone pressed to his ear, and he
seemed to be waiting. I was at least heartened by the fact that he
appeared to be edging toward impatience himself.

I sighed. “Now if it just pans out.”

“It will,” she murmured.

After a brief pause I shifted slightly and glanced
over in her direction. “So… Still mad at me?”

She didn’t turn, but she held her hand up over her
shoulder with her index finger and thumb around a half inch apart.
“Just a little.”

“Could be worse I suppose.”

“Aye.”

“Am I sleeping on the couch?”

She shook her head out of reflex as she spoke. “No.
I’m sure I can think of a suitable punishment for you though.”

I felt my brow furrow automatically at the way she
almost purred the comment. “Umm, honey… Are you in one of those
moods again? Because, you know, this really isn’t the time or
place…”

“I know, I know…” she replied, rushing to explain.
Her voice sounded almost as if she were ashamed of what she had
just said. “I wasn’t and then suddenly I was. It just came over me.
I know this isn’t the time, believe me. But…the feeling is more
than just a little overwhelming.”

“Like with Miranda?” I nearly whispered the
question.

“Almost,” she replied, giving her head a shallow
nod. “Not exactly, but almost.”

She definitely hadn’t given me the answer I had
hoped for, but it was better she was honest rather than lie about
something like this.

“That’s not good,” I said, unable to find any other
words that fit.

“I was thinking the same thing, trust me.”

On a whim I reached into my jacket pocket and
checked for the bottle containing the necklace. I breathed a small
sigh of relief when I felt my fingers wrap around it. Even if I had
lost it I couldn’t think of any way for it to end up back in
Annalise’s hands. But I also wasn’t sure what effect it might have
if it was released from its salt-filled coffin.

Although I knew by feel that the bottle was still in
my pocket, just to be safe I pulled it out and inspected it
closely. I even gave the glass vessel a light tap against my palm
in order to uncover the piece of jewelry just enough to make sure
it was still entombed in the salt. Once satisfied, I shook it again
and stuffed it back into my jacket.

I pondered what to say for a moment before finally
venturing, “I hate to ask this, but I feel like I have to. Are you
certain you are in control of yourself?”

“Aye,” she replied. “It isn’t like that. I’m still
me.”

“Sorry again… I just needed to know.”

“I understand…” She paused for a moment then
continued with, “I’m fine, Rowan. Really, I am. Don’t worry. I have
to admit that I’m embarrassed by the situation though…if you know
what I mean. I really shouldn’t be getting aroused right now. It
seems rather sick, don’t you think?”

“If things were different, I would probably say it
was odd, yes,” I admitted. “But, right now, I’d have to say it’s
sick only if it’s for the wrong reasons.”

“I don’t know if there are any right reasons for it
to come on me now,” she replied. “But, it certainly isn’t because
of all this. At least, I don’t…”

“Hey Rowan!” Ben called out, interrupting the
balance of her explanation.

We both looked up to see him half jogging across the
parking lot then ducking beneath the crime scene tape a few feet
from us.

“Did you find it?” I asked hopefully.

“Probably,” he told us. “There’re seven Millston’s
in a fifty mile radius—three in Illinois, two in Saint Charles, and
two in the county.”

“Are all of them being checked?”

“Yeah, but you said the house looked like it had
been through a fire, right?”

“Yeah,” I replied, nodding quickly. “It was boarded
up and you could see where the fire had scorched the brick above
the windows. And, it was near a corner intersection, but I didn’t
get the other street name.”

“Well, one of the addresses in the county fits that
description,” he said. “It’s in Overmoor. Got torched by an
arsonist about four years ago and been vacant ever since. The local
coppers are doing a drive-by right now, and SWAT is on standby if
they find anything.”

“Overmoor? That’s thirty-five or forty miles back
the other direction,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “That’d be about
right.”

“Then why is Judith Albright’s car abandoned all the
way out here?”

“Who knows how these wingnuts think,” he said with a
shrug. “More’n likely ta’ send us lookin’ in the wrong direction.
Besides, even you said ya’ didn’t know if she was with the
SOB.”

“I know,” I replied. “I know… But it doesn’t make
sense.”

“None of it does, Row. I thought you’d be used ta’
that by now.”

“I don’t think I want to get used to it.”

“Yeah, I know what you’re sayin’. So listen, we
prob’ly need ta’ head out. Dependin’ on how this shit goes down, it
could be over before we even get there, which ain’t such a bad
thing in my opinion. I don’t need you goin’ off half cocked like
usual.”

“What did Albright say?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I haven’t talked to ‘er yet.
Figured I’d go ahead and fill ‘er in before we hit the road
ourselves.” He looked around and huffed, “Just gotta find ‘er
first.”

A state trooper was walking past us just as Ben made
the comment. He paused then doubled back and interrupted, “Are you
talking about Captain Albright? She’s gone.”

“Whaddaya mean gone?” Ben asked, turning toward him.
“She was here just a couple of minutes ago.”

The trooper glanced at his watch then back to Ben.
“More like five or six.”

“Yeah, okay,” my friend retorted. “She say where she
was goin’?”

“No,” the officer replied. “But she crossed the
median and was heading east with her dash light going.”

“Goddammit, Beebee…” Ben sighed then spoke up. “Get
on the radio and give your guys a description. Have ‘em pull ‘er
over.”

“Isn’t she responding to…”

“Yeah, she is. That’s the problem. Just pull ‘er
over and detain ‘er.” With that said, Ben pulled out his cell phone
and started stabbing numbers as he mumbled, “Jeezus fuckin’
Christ…”

I reached down and checked the clasp on my safety
belt, giving it a tug to make sure it was tight. I had lost count
of how many times I had made the inspection by feel since we left
the rest area, but I was betting this wouldn’t be the last time by
a long shot. I knew I shouldn’t be so nervous. After all, I had
been on countless insane rides with Ben and his infamous “move it
or lose it” attitude behind the wheel, but for some reason this one
seemed worse than all the others combined.

My friend’s own magnetic bubble light was strobing
atop the van, casting a flickering glow down onto the dash as we
sped along the highway. A slice of cold air was whistling in
through an ultra thin gap along the edge of the driver’s side
window caused by the emergency beacon’s coiled wire, which was
threaded through to the accessory plug powering it.

Thus far, I hadn’t been brave enough to glance in
the direction of the dimly lit speedometer. It was bad enough that
we were whipping by cars so fast that they appeared as little more
than blurred lights rocketing past us in reverse. I feared that
knowing where the needle was actually hovering would just be too
much for me to take right now.

The siren Ben had mounted behind the grill of the
vehicle was warbling, burping, and vomiting a string of randomized
alert tones to help clear the way, but it soon became obvious that
some people simply didn’t listen. Every now and then the van would
sway violently as he would be forced to steer around a car whose
driver wasn’t paying attention and therefore hadn’t bothered to
move to the right. As usual, each time it happened the blaring
siren was joined by an angry string of verbiage from my friend,
aimed squarely at the receding headlights reflected in the rear
view mirror.

I turned in the seat as best I could and glanced
back over my shoulder at Felicity. She was braced in her own seat
with one hand gripping the armrest, while the other was hooked
tightly to the shoulder harness across her chest in a white
knuckled hold. She was known to have a heavy foot herself, but this
was obviously excessive, even by her standards. She stared back at
me, eyes wide, and all I could do was shake my head.

When I turned back around, I saw that we were
topping a low hill, and the brightly lit casino on the Saint
Charles riverfront was looming in front of us on the left. The
aircraft anti-collision lights ringing the roof of the tall
structure winked on then off in a rapid cadence, but we were moving
so fast that the top of the building disappeared from view before I
could see more than two cycles of the warning flash.

The Fifth Street exit had been coming up when I
turned around to face forward but was now already long behind us as
we rushed along the outer lane of Highway 70 toward the Blanchette
Bridge. I shot a quick glance at my watch. In a little over twenty
minutes, we had already covered a distance that at normal speeds
would have taken better than a half hour.

With Ben’s attention focused on keeping the van on
all four wheels—although I wasn’t convinced we had stayed that way
the entire time—conversation between the three of us had been
non-existent. I wasn’t about to distract him with chatter, idle or
otherwise. Unless it was earth shattering and I felt he desperately
needed to know, I was keeping my mouth shut. Felicity’s silence
told me that she had either adopted the same attitude or was simply
too frightened to speak.