The End Of Desire: A Rowan Gant Investigation (25 page)

My friend had arrived while the local police
were still taking our statements. After he spoke with them for a
few minutes, then made a quick phone call, they left, taking Lewis
with them. As usual, the neighbors got an eye full of the goings
on. I was beginning to think we might need to move, but who was I
to take away their source of entertainment?

Now, some half hour later, we were sitting at
the breakfast nook in the kitchen, contemplating our cups of
coffee.

It was just the two of us at this point.
Felicity had been slightly shaken but not enough to keep her from
being determined to attend her scheduled business meeting—even
though I objected. In a way, I suppose it was a good thing she
ignored my protests. She probably needed something to take her mind
off the whole situation. The truth is, I wished I had something to
divert my own attention from it, but I also wasn’t naïve enough to
believe it would matter even if I did. My attempt at embracing
denial was no longer working. It was painfully apparent that forces
beyond my control simply wouldn’t allow it.

“Believe me. I know that.” I replied after a
thick pause. “I guess it could’ve been worse though. It’s not like
he actually assaulted her or anything.”

“Yeah, Row, I’m afraid he did.”

“Not really. All he actually did was slobber
on her shoes.”

“While she was wearin’ ‘em,” Ben added.
“Simple battery is any form of unwanted physical contact, so by law
what ‘e did qualifies as common assault, Kemosabe.”

“Yeah, that’s what the other cops said too.”
I shrugged. “What I meant was I just usually think of assault as
something a bit more malicious. He didn’t actually attack her with
any intent to do harm.”

“Yeah, a lotta people think like that. Of
course, then there’re the ones that think they’ve been assaulted if
someone looked at ‘em cross-eyed. But this ain’t one of those
situations. It was assault any way you slice it… But, technically
you’re right. As assaults go, it was minor. No more than a
misdemeanor… You could probably throw trespassing in on ‘im if ya’
wanted. But, anyway… Firehair’s gonna be pressin’ charges I
assume?”

“Under the circumstances, I’d like for her to
at least get a restraining order, but it’s a touchy situation since
he could still file charges against her for the incident at the
motel… And, I think that would qualify as something a bit worse
than what you were just talking about.”

“Yeah. That’d be more like aggravated assault
with intent.”

“Yeah… Exactly… So… There it is…” I let my
voice trail off without saying anything further.

“Uh-huh,” my friend grunted. “I know what ya’
mean. At least they’re gonna hold ‘im for a bit, what with the mark
on ‘is chest an’ all. Ackman and Osthoff are on the way over ta’
ask ‘im a few questions.”

“There is that,” I finally said. After
another lengthy pause, I added, “But, I get the feeling that really
wasn’t the ‘fucked up’ you were talking about, was it?”

“No,” he replied with a shake of his head.
“Not really.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“That ya’ can’t get away from it.”

I sighed. “It’s not your fault.”

“That doesn’t keep me from feelin’ for
ya’.”

“Yeah. I suppose it doesn’t… Thanks.”

“Not a problem.” He waited for a measured
beat then added, “I guess we got our answer.”

“What answer?”

“What Annalise was gonna do if she couldn’t
off ya’ with the hocus-pocus.”

“Oh… That.”

We sat in silence for a minute. I absently
spun my coffee mug in place on the table, fiddling with it for no
other reason than to expend the nervous energy I had pent up
inside. I could feel Ben watching me, and I was fairly certain I
knew what he wanted to say. It wasn’t very long before he proved me
correct.

“You wanna talk about it now? The case I
mean.”

“Do I want to? No,” I replied with a shake of
my head. “But, obviously she isn’t leaving me much choice in the
matter.”

“Yeah, guess not,” he grunted. “So… Ya’
done any
Twilight Zone
since
we last talked?”

“No, actually. A few nightmares, but nothing
of consequence.”

“What about that headache ya’ had? That still
with ya’?”

“It pretty much went away.”

“Ya’ lyin’?”

“No.”

“Whatcha do? Burn a candle or somethin’?”

“Something like that.”

“So then her kung fu ain’t as good as
yours?”

“I’m reserving judgment on that at the
moment.”

“You’re still here.”

“The war isn’t over yet.”

“Yeah. Wunnerful… Okay… So, back to the land
of normal people… Ya’ got any theories? Like what she might do
next?”

“I have no idea.”

“Now I know you’re lyin’ on that one, ‘cause
I got a theory myself. Since that hocus-pocus didn’t work, she’s
gonna try ta’ kill ya’ the way regular fruitcakes do.”

I gave him a barely perceptible shrug.
“Maybe.”

“Ain’t maybe, Row. It doesn’t take a trip
inta’ la-la land ta’ figure it out. Why else would she come back
here?”

I just shook my head in response.

“Ya’ think this is about what happened in New
Orleans?”

“Maybe.” I shrugged again. “That was my first
thought, but after mulling it over for a bit I think it’s probably
more likely to be about what I did when I got home.”

“What? Ya’ mean the thing with the doll?”

I nodded.

“How the fuck could she know about that?”

“Miranda. If she’s really here to come after
me, it has to be because of her. I don’t think Annalise would
chance it on her own. She really doesn’t have a solid reason.”

“Nutcases don’t need reasons, Row. Do ya’
think she’s got a logical reason for what she’s been doin’ so
far?”

“In
her
mind, yes. I think that in her view of reality, she sees what
she is doing as perfectly logical.”

“‘
Zactly. In
her
twisted-ass mind. So, what’s ta’ keep ‘er
from havin’ some fucked up reasoning tellin’ ‘er ta’ come after
you?”

“I don’t know. I mean… Yes, you could be
right, but I really don’t get the feeling Annalise is particularly
stupid. She knows it would be dangerous for her to come here
looking for me, even if she does have a vendetta. Miranda has to be
behind it. Controlling her. Making her do it.”

“Well, I dunno about that, but you’re right
about one thing. She ain’t stupid.”

“Is that just an opinion, or do you know
something I don’t?”

“Besides the fact she’s got a doctorate in
psychology? Yeah, a little.”

“She has a doctorate?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, as he reached into his
pocket and dug out his notebook then flipped it open. “Got some
background on ‘er if ya’ wanna hear it. I’ve had it for a while,
and I tried ta’ tell ya’ about it the other day but you said you
didn’t wanna talk about the case anymore.”

“Mea
culpa
.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he said as he flipped
through the pages then settled on one. “So, anyway, here it is in a
nutshell. Near as we can figure from what we’ve been able ta’ piece
together, Devereaux started out life as Mary Kathleen O’Brien. But,
about two months after birth those records suddenly stop. It’s like
she never existed…”

“But, if the records stop…”

“Hang on, I’m not finished. Ya’ see, that’s
just all part of the big soap opera. Apparently the birth mother
had a friend try ta’ adopt ‘er. When they caught on to what was up,
they changed ‘er name ta’ Cynthia Anne Smith and shipped ‘er outta
state to a different orphanage in Mississippi.”

“How’d you figure that out?”

“I didn’t. The Feebs did.”

“Well, how did they manage to make the
connection?”

“Dunno. Maybe they leaned on a nun or
somethin’. So anyway, she bounced around foster homes for about six
years, startin’ from when she was just a few months old until she
eventually ended up in yet another orphanage.”

“That had to be rough on a kid. Any idea why
she wasn’t adopted out as a baby?”

Ben shook his head. “No one’s sayin’. Rumor
has it that as she got older she was in and outta trouble here and
there though. At least, that’s what they managed to pick up from
the files, such as they were. Anyhow, she finally got adopted by
the Devereaux’s when she was around eight.” He flipped through the
pages of the notebook. “Yeah, here it is, Scott and Andrea
Devereaux. Older couple from Tupelo, Mississippi. Old enough to be
more like grandparents, actually.”

“That’s odd, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, a little. But, they wanted a kid and
they had money. A lot of it… Big numbers followed by lotsa zeros if
ya’ know what I mean. An’ apparently they donated quite a bit to
the orphanage where she was livin’.”

“So, after they adopted her, they changed her
first name as well as her last? That seems like a cruel thing to do
to an eight-year-old kid. That’s had to screw with her sense of
self identity.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. Guess it’s no wonder
she’s so fucked up.”

“So, have you been able to contact them?”

“Nope. Both deceased. Have been for quite a
few years. And, there weren’t any other livin’ relatives, so they
left the whole shootin’ match to guess who?”

“Annalise.”

“Bingo. Speakin’ of that, it seems the
address she used for her driver’s license might’ve been kinda
bogus. The place actually exists and all… Or, it did before the
flood… And, she even owned it… But accordin’ to one of the
neighbors NOLA PD managed ta’ track down, they don’t think she
actually lived there. A lawn service came by and kept the place up,
and the guy said he noticed a car there a couple of times late at
night, but he never saw anyone actually livin’ there.”

“Do you think she was planning ahead for the
eventuality of getting caught?” I asked.

“Possibly. That, or she was usin’ it in the
middle of the night or somethin’. Who knows? Doesn’t really matter
much ‘cause since the flood, it’s totaled. If there was any
evidence there, it’s gone now.

“So, anyway, on the doctorate thing… She
attended three separate colleges. Not sure why the moving around,
but in the end she did her post-grad work at George Washington
University in DC, which is where she got the doctorate. She didn’t
really put it to use though. Not professionally anyway because
after she got it, she worked as a VP for her dad’s company. But,
that only lasted about a year.”

“What happened?”

“Dunno. Apparently she just up an’ quit. But,
after the parents kicked, she sold off a lotta property as well as
the family business. Been a lot of turnover there, so nobody really
remembers much about ‘er. However, after that, even though she
didn’t need the money, she spent some time working as a
pro-dominatrix.”

“That really doesn’t come as a big
surprise.”

“No, it doesn’t. She even owned one of
those fetish clubs for a while ‘till it got shut down.” He flipped
a page in the notebook and scanned down the page. “Yeah, here it
is,
Gwendolyn’s
Keep
.”

“Another pseudonym…”

“Yeah… Back then she was callin’ ‘erself,
Mistress Gwen. Regular identity crisis with this one.”

“Any idea why she was shut down?”

“Yeah, actually. That took some diggin’, but
it seems one of ‘er clients filed assault charges. Said she took
the ‘game’ a bit too far. Accordin’ to the police report, she
fucked ‘im up good. Lessee… Yeah… Whole lotta stitches, a broken
hand, broken nose, and several bad cigarette burns.”

“I guess there’s no surprise there
either.”

“Yeah, well her contention was expressed
consent, which didn’t necessarily fly. So, the club got closed down
and there was a big stink. Almost went ta’ trial, but she had the
money ta’ make the whole situation go away. The nasty rumor is she
not only paid off the client but a coupl’a local officials as well
because they were lookin’ real hard at criminal charges. Anyway,
after that she pretty much just dropped off the map. Not even a
parkin’ ticket since. Pulled a Garbo. Total recluse. No friends or
acquaintances ta’ speak of. She just pays ‘er taxes, donates to a
coupl’a charities for the write-off, and that’s about it.”

“Well, I think we know better than that.”

“True story.”

“Of course, with all that money, I suppose it
isn’t hard to disappear if that’s what you want.”

“Yeah, that’s a fact… Of course, right now
‘er bank accounts and credit cards are bein’ tracked, but somethin’
tells me she’s prob’ly got a stash we don’t know about… Maybe even
whole ‘nother identity or two… Hell, I’d bet my paycheck on it.” He
flipped the notebook closed then stowed it back in his pocket.
“Okay, I showed ya’ mine. Your turn.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean this whole Miranda thing. You seem
ta’ think she’s the real reason evil sis-in-law would come back…
So, explain it to me. Why would this dead chick be after you?”

“Oh, that… Well, it’s simple really. When I
severed the binding, I took Felicity away from her.”

“So she’s really after Felicity, not
you?”

“Probably. But, my bet is that Miranda wants
Felicity alive and well so that she can continue using her as a
horse. Annalise, on the other hand, based on what I picked up from
that vision, would rather that not be the case. So, she’s going to
be severely conflicted.”

“Could be good for us if she is. Might cause
‘er ta’ make a mistake that’ll let us get a bead on ‘er,” he
offered then thrust his chin toward me. “So technically, you’re
safe.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m a roadblock for
both of them. I’m the one who took Felicity away. I know that
didn’t sit well with Miranda at all. And, since I’ll also protect
my wife at all costs, Annalise isn’t going to be terribly happy
with me either. Neither of them will.”