The Law Of Three: A Rowan Gant Investigation (7 page)

“That was the second call,” Ben said as he
nodded. “I’ve kept a list in my desk since this all started. Ackman
is going to contact them, and we’ll go from there.”

“What about Nancy?” my wife appealed.
“Someone should be with her. Unless…”

She caught her breath as the thought struck.
She didn’t have to voice it for us to know what it was.

“Don’t panic,” Ben told her. “Ackman is
making the calls. We don’t know anything yet, so let’s just assume
that she’s okay.”

Felicity closed her eyes and took a deep
breath as she nodded affirmation. I gave her hand a squeeze but
wasn’t certain how reassuring it would be. I knew she could easily
sense that I was just as worried as she was. I dropped my chin to
my chest and stared at the table as a solemn hush blanketed our
little corner of the diner. Even the radio behind the counter was
spewing only dead air.

“I’ve had enough nightmares this decade,” I
finally muttered. “Will someone please wake me up.”

* * * * *

“Here she comes.” Ben canted his head
toward me and whispered, “Play nice and keep the
Twilight Zone
stuff to
yourself.”

It was obvious that we had not only been
expected but that our arrival on scene had been announced. We had
just barely topped the metal stairs leading to the roof access of
the warehouse a few seconds prior to his comment. Before we could
get our bearings, we were greeted by the sight of a woman wearing a
heavy trench coat walking purposefully toward us from several yards
away.

The assortment of circumstances combined with
the raging pain in my skull had centered my mood somewhere between
foul and just plain pissed off. “What if I don’t?”

“I’m not kidding here, white man. She’ll kick
your sorry ass outta here,” he snarled under his breath. “And I’m
damn liable to help her. Got me?”

“Listen to him, Rowan,” Felicity demanded as
she squeezed my arm. “This isn’t the time. Not now.”

“When will it be the time?” I asked, my voice
flat. “Tell me that.”

“I don’t know. But not now. Please.”

She was still frightened, and I couldn’t
blame her. The written threat was enough by itself, but backing it
up by torturing and killing a member of our own Coven drove the
point past home. It fueled the horror and urged it across the line
that separated intimidation from violence. Omen from action.

While I still felt some of the same fear that
enveloped my wife, mine was rapidly turning to calculating anger.
Still, they were both correct. I needed to keep myself on an even
keel, or I wasn’t going to get anywhere.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Okay.”

“I’m friggin’ serious here, Row,” Ben
said.

“I know. I know.”

Lieutenant Barbara Albright reminded me of
someone’s mother. She didn’t resemble anyone in particular,
actually. She just fit the appearance of a generic, prim and
proper, sixties sitcom mom who had been strategically updated to
fit the style of the decade—but only where absolutely necessary.
She was slight of figure and wore her white hair in a
shoulder-length coif that was just traditional enough not to be out
of vogue but wasn’t exactly riding the cutting edge either. She
looked to be in her mid-fifties, but that, in and of itself, could
have been an illusion. She was very simply just that
nondescript.

The one thing that stood out about her
appearance was the thin-lipped expression she now wore. According
to Ben, it was how she always looked. At any rate, it was the kind
of mask a card player would kill for, and I was betting she knew
exactly how to use it.

“Mister Gant, we need to get some things
straight right now.” She started talking three steps before she
reached us. “I am not exactly sure what went on during my
predecessor’s time in charge, but I know for a fact that I do not
like the things that I have read.”

She came to a halt directly before us and
took a firm stance before thrusting her gloved hands into her
pockets. She stared at me with glacier blue eyes, unblinking and
unwavering, never taking a moments attention away from my face nor
acknowledging the presence of Ben or Felicity. At the V where the
lapels of her dark grey trench coat overlapped, a yellow-gold,
cross pendant stood out against her sweater in a blatant
display.

“I also do not like you or what you
represent,” she continued her speech. “Your involvements in
previous investigations were a travesty and an embarrassment to the
Major Case Squad. It is only by the grace of God Almighty that no
officers were injured or killed because of your antics. You should
also know that I am of the opinion that had you stayed out of it
and allowed us to do our jobs, there would have been far fewer
victims. Not to mention that Eldon Porter would now be
incarcerated.”

“Exc…” I started to make an objection, but
the first word was cut off by Felicity’s instantly tightening grip
on my arm. Even in the midst of her apprehension, she was remaining
logical and level headed, something at which she was very
practiced, until you pressed the correct button, of course. If that
occurred, well, let’s just say that your only hope would be if your
deity of choice happened to be listening.

“Yes, Mister Gant?” Lieutenant Albright
cocked her head and frowned even more, which is something I hadn’t
thought possible.

“Nothing,” I answered flatly.

“Now then,” she started again. “You need to
understand that you are here only because Porter left a message
specifically for you. Otherwise, I would have you arrested if you
came within a mile of a crime scene. The truth is that I want you
to see what you have caused through your interference, and I am not
the only one who sincerely hopes that it haunts you for the rest of
your days.”

“Lieutenant, you don’t even begin to know,” I
returned with a cold edge in my voice.

She ignored my comment. “Be aware that any
further involvement you have in this case will be at my discretion,
and you can rest assured that I will exercise it to the fullest
extent. I intend to keep you on a very short leash, Mister Gant.
VERY short. Am I making myself clear?”

I stared back at her for a long moment,
remaining mute. The temperature atop the building seemed even
colder than it had down on the street, but that was most likely an
effect of the company rather than the climate. The expectant lull
was filled with forlorn sighing noises as the wind weaved its way
through broken windows on the floor below us then gushed up the
stairwell and out through the open door.

In my head, I flipped through several
responses for her question, but unfortunately, not one of them was
particularly appropriate, given the circumstances. They would have
made me feel better, most definitely, but would have served only to
get me cuffed and processed just for good measure. I finally
decided on a one-word answer. I took a deep breath and fought to
ground my ire, or at the very least, keep the brunt of it out of my
voice.

“Perfectly,” came my response.

“Good,” she returned. “I am glad to know that
we understand one another. Now if you will kindly go back
downstairs, I am going to have Detective Storm here escort you to
the medical examiner’s office. I will meet you there in due
course.”

“Wait a minute.” I shook my head and blinked
as I felt my forehead automatically crease from the sudden feeling
of confusion. “Aren’t we going to look at this crime scene?”

“We have been looking at it, Mister Gant,”
she told me as she turned on her heel. “You, however, are not.”

I started toward her as she began walking
away, and felt not only Felicity’s grip tighten, but also Ben’s
barrier-like forearm thud across my chest as I ran into it.

“Then what the hell did you call me up here
for?” I shouted after her.

She stopped in her tracks and stood with her
back to us for a measured handful of seconds before twisting
slightly and looking back over her shoulder at me.

“I thought we had already established who is
in charge here, Mister Gant” was all she said before turning and
continuing on her way.

“I can’t believe she did that!” I punctuated
the angry comment by slapping my open palm hard against the side of
Ben’s van. The force of the impact joined with the frigid sheet
metal to send a loud thump in one direction and a jarring sting up
my arm in the other. I instantly regretted the action but did it
again anyway. In fact, I did it twice more and would have continued
had my friend not circled his hand about my wrist and stopped me
mid-swing.

“Calm down,” he barked. “My friggin’ van
didn’t do anything to ya’.”

I turned to face him, my infuriation seething
outward in hot waves. “Dammit, Ben, she called us up there just so
she could try to intimidate me.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “That’s her style.
Whaddaya want me to tell ya’? Now shut up and quit makin’ a
scene.”

I took quick notice that my outburst had, in
fact, attracted attention from some nearby uniformed officers and
crime scene technicians, but I didn’t really care.

“Who the hell does she think she is?!” I
demanded as my voice rose well above any necessary volume.

A sudden swath of blue-white light fell
across us, struggling to fend off the darkness and expose us to the
world. It slashed drunkenly back and forth, growing brighter with
each pass. The varied sounds of interested commotion blended with
frenzied footsteps at an ever-increasing volume.

Ben shot a startled look over his shoulder
and declared a staccato string of expletives that ended with “I
really don’t need this shit.”

With a quick jerk, he yanked the passenger
door of the vehicle open and shoved me at the opening as he
ordered, “Get in.”

“Hell no!” I exclaimed. “They want a story,
I’ll give them a story!”

I shuffled back and sidestepped him as he
reached for me again. I don’t know how I pulled it off, but I
somehow feigned a quick shift in position that left my friend
grasping at air and me skirting quickly around him and the open
door. The television reporters were almost upon us, and I was
aiming myself toward them with fire in my throat and a vitriolic
commentary on my tongue.

Before I managed to take a second step,
however, the front of my coat laminated itself to my chest and
forced the air from my lungs. I could no longer feel the ground
beneath my feet, and my stomach fluttered with the butterflies of
momentary weightlessness as I literally arced backward in flight. I
stumbled once more to the ground, remaining upright only by the
grace of the large hand that was twisted into the back of my
coat.

I was stiffly swung in a shallow half circle,
and after that I didn’t see much of anything other than the seat of
the van rushing headlong toward me. I twisted and fought to step
upward into the vehicle as I was propelled at it and in the process
raked my shoulder hard against the frame. The door was already
being slammed behind me as I fell in a twisted heap with my torso
lying across the engine cover. Toward the rear, I heard the side
door groan in a discordant harmony with my own as it was quickly
forced open. The rush of activity was instantly followed by
Felicity climbing in and slamming the opening shut.

I pushed myself up from the shadows and into
a sitting position, twisting in the seat as I rose. The stark
lights now filled the interior of the Chevy from the front and
sides as video cameras were brought to bear on it. I squeezed my
eyes tightly shut and twisted my head, throwing up my hands to
shield my face, but I still saw spots from the brief glance into
the man-made suns.

We were parked outside the cordoned area of
the crime scene proper, and therefore, fair game. Now that I had
called down their unrelenting attentions upon us, we had become the
main course.

The muffled exterior noise jumped in
amplification as the driver’s side door of the van opened, and a
chaotic mix of voices began ricocheting around us.

“I said, NO COMMENT!” I heard my friend shout
over the unintelligible questions as he folded his large frame in
through the opening and levered the door shut.

The intensity of the clamor was once again
suppressed, but the beams of garish light still sliced through the
shadows. If they were to be denied a sound byte then they were
intent on fighting like a pack of wild dogs for the best clip of
video.

“Thanks, Rowan,” Ben snarled at me with thick
sarcasm in his voice as he thrust his keys into the ignition and
started the van. “Thanks a whole hell of a lot. Just what the fuck
did you think you were doing?!”

“Giving them what they want!” I barked in
return.

“Have you lost your goddamned mind?! Where
the hell do ya’ think that’s gonna get ya’?!”

“Someone has to tell them what’s going
on.”

“That’s for the public relations officer to
handle, not you.”

“I’m talking about that bitch upstairs!
Someone’s got to tell them what she’s doing!”

“Don’t you get it?!” he declared, thumping
his fingertips against his forehead and gesturing angrily. “Have
you suddenly gone stupid on me or somethin’? You run off at the
mouth about Albright, and you’re screwed! Like it or not, in this
situation, you’re the odd man out. They’ll spin the whole fuckin’
thing to make you look like a freak, and the way you’re actin’
right now it wouldn’t be hard!”

It took a moment for what he said to sink in,
but I knew he was correct. I was as out of control as I had ever
been.

“I’m sorry,” I exclaimed. “But there was no
call for what she did. It was a power play, and you know it.”

“Yeah, it was,” he admitted as he pulled the
gearshift down into drive and pounded his fist twice on the horn
before letting off the brake. “I told ya’ how she was…” He took a
moment to direct an exclamation toward the windshield. “Get outta
my way you friggin’ asshole, or you’re gonna get run over!
Jeezus!”