The End Of Desire: A Rowan Gant Investigation (19 page)

“Could it have been a gift Felicity received,
perhaps?”

“Thought of that too. No luck there
either.”

“Well, Rowan, if your theory is correct,
there has to be something that has bound the two of them
together.”

A fresh stab of pain struck deep inside my
head, as an all too obvious word echoed in my ears. But, it wasn’t
an agony borne of the chronic ache to which I had grown accustomed.
It was an emotional pain brought about by a truly horrific
realization.

“Rowan? Are you there?” Helen asked.

“I have to go,” I said quickly.

“Rowan? Is something wrong?”

“I’ll explain later,” I replied, rushing to
get the words out. “Take care of Felicity. I’ll be there soon.”

She was still talking to me when I hung up
the phone.

Twisting left then right, I located the
control pendant on the bed and stabbed the call button with my
thumb. I was already up out of the bed when Adrienne came through
the door.

“What can I do for ya’ Mistuh Gant?” she
asked.

“I need to speak with Doctor Miller.”

“She’s not on duty this evenin’. I can get
the physician on call. Are you feelin’ okay?”

“Get her on the phone then,” I instructed,
ignoring her question. “And, tell her she needs to get Detective
Fairbanks over here right away too.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes, there is,” I replied, my voice rushed.
“Very wrong. But it’s something I can’t fix here. I have to get
back to Saint Louis right now.”

I
was escorted directly to
my gate at New Orleans Louis Armstrong International Airport. The
only problem I had with that fact was that it happened ten hours
later than I wanted. The delay, however, wasn’t for a lack of me
trying to get out of town; that much was certain.

As I suspected would be the case, Detective
Fairbanks turned out to be the least of my problems. He was in as
big a hurry to be rid of me as I was to go, so he took next to no
convincing where my being allowed to leave was concerned. He didn’t
even ask why I was in such a rush. Of course, I had a feeling he
knew the answer I was likely to give and simply didn’t want to hear
it again.

Still, he insisted Doctor Miller make the
final call, and she was definitely the hard sell, especially since
I was doing this all by phone. Unfortunately, by the time she
grudgingly agreed to my release, it was too late. There wasn’t a
single Saint Louis bound flight to be had, no matter what I was
willing to pay, where I was prepared to sit, or how many
connections I was content to make.

Once again time was presenting itself as my
enemy; but for this skirmish my luck no longer held, and I was
unable to beat the clock. The best I could manage was to change my
existing reservation, and since the airline with the earliest
departure time happened to be the one for which I already held a
ticket, that was easy enough done. Beyond that, I was still stuck
in New Orleans for the rest of the night, which didn’t sit well
with me at all, a fact I was all too happy to share.

In response to my severe agitation, the
physician on duty insisted on prescribing a sedative. I didn’t want
it; however I was told that my wants weren’t the issue, but my
obvious needs were. I suspect the needs to which he referred were
less mine and more theirs, as I wasn’t being shy when it came to
making my displeasure with the entire situation somewhat
vociferously known.

Therefore, much to my chagrin, whether I
liked the idea or not, I ended up sedated. The only choice I was
given was whether I wanted to take it orally of my own volition or
be held down for an injection. I opted for the pill. I’ll admit it
was probably a good thing he forced the issue because the fact that
I was trapped here wasn’t helping me cope with the personal demon I
had only recently loosed upon myself. I sincerely doubt it would
have allowed me to sleep otherwise. What little I did manage,
however, certainly wasn’t restful. Even a drug-induced slumber
couldn’t stave off the all too real nightmare that was now raging
inside my head.

The next morning, true to his word, Detective
Fairbanks intended to see me off personally, so he showed up at the
hospital early. I was already showered and having fresh dressings
applied when he arrived. As it was, the paperwork for my release
took longer than anything else.

Our ride to the airport was conspicuously
silent, and it really didn’t change much after reaching our
destination, save for an occasional grunt to direct me here or
there. Fairbanks saw me through the check-in process step by step.
He didn’t physically turn over the bulk of my personal effects
until my bags were checked and he had my boarding pass in hand. I
don’t know if he did it for dramatic effect or if he really
believed I might bolt and wreak more havoc in the city. I decided
knowing the answer wouldn’t accomplish anything for either of us,
so I didn’t bother to ask.

At the security gate, he handed me off to a
uniformed officer and instructed him that I was to be his sole duty
until I was in the air and heading north. Then, with only a scowl
in my direction to serve as a farewell, he was gone.

The officer walked me through security and
dutifully waited until I was on board the aircraft. If he followed
his orders, he probably also continued to stand there until the
airplane had taxied out to the runway at the very least. I’m
betting he did—because the instruction hadn’t sounded at all like a
joke.

According to my watch, we were wheels up
right on time at 7:40 A.M. I still had a little over two hours
ahead of me before I was going to have my chance to grapple
directly with a monster of my own making.

I just hoped that it wouldn’t be too
late.

Saturday, December 3

9:43 A.M.

Lambert Saint Louis International Airport

Concourse C, Security Gate

Saint Louis, Missouri

I
mpatience had ruled over
me for the entire trip, and it was only getting worse now that I
was on the ground. Since my flight had arrived at one of the
farthest gates it possibly could, I had been faced with plenty of
distance to cover on foot. Any other time that wouldn’t have
bothered me a bit, but in this instance I viewed the walk with
nothing but disdain. Of course, it wasn’t so much the walk itself
as the added delay because it had taken almost fifteen minutes for
me to jog up the crowded concourse. I was absolutely certain I
could have made it in half that time had it not been for constantly
becoming stuck behind people who were more interested in window
shopping and visiting than actually moving.

“Rowan!”

The voice issuing the call was unmistakable.
Ben was only a few feet ahead as I started through the exit on the
security checkpoint, and while I really hadn’t expected to see him
here, I also couldn’t say I was terribly surprised. I’m sure he
wanted his turn at chewing me out and simply couldn’t wait to get
started.

I had actually caught sight of him even
before he called my name over the flow of moving bodies. He was
hard to miss. Standing six-foot-six tends to make you stick out in
the crowd. Being an exceptionally tall Native American even more
so. Throw in the fact that he had his badge displayed on a cord
around his neck, he may as well have been waving a flag. My
intention had been to slip through with the rest of the crowd,
hoping to pass by unnoticed. Unfortunately, he saw me before that
could happen. What’s worse, my reflexes betrayed me by making me
look up in his direction at the sound of my name.

Now, I really had no way to avoid him. I was
just going to have to keep moving so that he couldn’t derail
me.

When I neared, he let out a quiet
exclamation. “Holy fuck…”

As his voice trailed off, he reached up with
a large hand and smoothed his salt and pepper hair, sliding the paw
down to the back of his neck where he allowed it to rest. His dark
eyes were wide as he stared at me, and I had a feeling whatever
admonishment he had originally intended to hurl my direction was
momentarily on hold.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, switching
my backpack to the opposite shoulder as I continued walking past
him at a brisk pace while veering to the left.

“Fairbanks called an’ said you were on your
way,” he replied, catching up in a single, long-legged stride and
falling in step with me.

“Figures,” I said with a shake of my head
then glanced over and added, “I guess he was afraid I’d turn around
and come right back, so he’d better send a welcoming
committee.”

“What the fuck happened to ya’?” my friend
asked, ignoring the comment.

“What? Didn’t he fill you in?”

“He had plenty ta’ say about ya’, yeah. Other
than the stuff I won’t repeat, he said ya’ went a couple rounds
with some woman then chased ‘er across traffic and caused a coupl’a
friggin’ wrecks… But he didn’t tell me ya’ actually got hit by one
of the cars.”

“I didn’t,” I told him. “And, it wasn’t just
some woman. It was Annalise.”

“Wait a minute… Are you sayin’ Devereaux did
this to ya’?”

“Yeah.”

“You mean a five-foot-nothin’ woman kicked
your ass?”

“Yeah, Ben, she did,” I replied, voice cold.
“Then she got away, and your buddy down there didn’t seem all that
interested in finding her. So, do me a favor and save the jokes.
I’ve got something kind of pressing I need to take care of right
now.”

I was angling toward the exit, so he grabbed
my arm and tried to guide me to the right. “She kick ya’ in the
head too? Baggage claim is this way.”

I pulled away and continued toward the far
exit, which led out to the taxi stands. Without looking back I
said, “I’ll get it later.”

I hadn’t made it a full step before his hand
clamped down on my shoulder, and he stopped me dead in my tracks.
“Whoa… What the fuck? Where’s the fire?”

“You wouldn’t believe…” I started immediately
but caught myself before I could finish the sentence.

I suppose Detective Fairbanks was correct.
The phrase really had become my personal mantra while I was in New
Orleans. In the matter of only two days, I had become accustomed to
hiding what I knew and, more importantly, how I knew it. All for
fear of being seen as a lunatic, and now, because of that fact, the
sentence seemed to tumble from my mouth at the slightest
provocation.

And, apparently my brain was too occupied at
the moment to adjust to the fact that I was back on familiar
ground, talking to someone who wouldn’t think I was completely
nuts. Of course, standing here now and forcing myself to consider
this new reality didn’t necessarily change my mode of thinking. I
wasn’t so sure this was something I was ready to tell Ben either.
Even if he wouldn’t think I was insane, I wasn’t certain I wanted
to waste time explaining right now.

I sighed, “Look, Ben, I just need to get
home. There’s something very important I have to take care of.”

“What?”

“I’d really rather not say.”

“Rather not, because it’s somethin’ stupid
and ya’ think I’ll stop ya’, or rather not somethin’ else?”

“Something else.”

“So ya’ aren’t about to go get yourself inta’
some more shit?”

“No,” I replied with a shake of my head. “If
anything I’m planning to get out of some.”

He stared at me for a moment, searching my
face. I’m sure he was looking for some physical indication as to
whether or not I was lying.

“This way,” he finally said, giving my arm a
tug. “I’m parked on the upper level of the garage.”

* * * * *

B
en’s driving didn’t
bother me for a change. In fact, given that speed limits, in his
way of thinking, were more a suggestion than anything else, I
actually welcomed it because we arrived at my house quicker than I
would have by taking a cab.

I was out of the van before he even had it in
park, intent on my single-minded task. It had been cold when I left
Saint Louis, and that hadn’t changed a bit. Snow had even visited
the city, leaving an inch or so of white covering the landscape. My
coat was hanging open, and a stiff wind was snaking into it as I
strode up the driveway, but I ignored the chill.

I could hear footsteps behind me as Ben broke
into a short jog to catch up.

“Yo! White Man… Where’re ya’ goin’?” he
called out.

I didn’t respond. I simply unlatched the gate
and continued on, first passing by the back deck then the detached
garage with a determined stride. Ben was alongside me now, but
other than the fact I was aware of his presence and could feel his
concern, I wasn’t paying any attention to him whatsoever.

Pressing on, I stalked across the pristine
blanket of my back yard, my breath condensing in opaque clouds as I
huffed the cold air quickly in and out. The dull thud in my head
had never left, but it now morphed beyond the chronic throb and
burst into acute stabs at the base of my skull. The sickening ache
increased with each step and began spreading through my body like
electricity seeking ground. My stomach was starting to churn, and I
fought back a wave of nausea that was creating a bitter tickle in
the back of my throat.

The onslaught continued, and by the time I
made it three-quarters of the way across the yard, it had grown so
intense that I literally stumbled. Unable to maintain my balance, I
fell to my hands and knees. A sharp lance of pain shot up my
wounded arm, and it buckled, sending me face first into the
snow.

“Jeezus, Row… Are you okay?” Ben asked, fresh
concern rimming his voice as he reached down to help me up.