“Good mornin’,” Ben said as soon as I swung open the front door.
“It is Monday, isn’t it?” I asked in reply.
“Last time I checked.”
“Then shouldn’t you be at work?”
“I am. Sorta. Here.” He shoved a fold of paper into my hand as he invited himself in. “You got anything ta’ eat?”
He wasn’t even completely through the door when he handed me the envelope and just kept going toward the kitchen. I looked at it, slightly puzzled at first then suddenly fearful. Felicity’s name was typed across its face, and the return address of the prosecutor’s office was imprinted in the upper corner.
“This damn well better not be another warrant,” I snapped.
“It ain’t.”
“Okay, then what is it?”
“Look at it.”
“Let’s not start that again,” I replied, swinging the door shut then following along behind him.
“Don’t worry, it ain’t anything bad.”
“Famous last words. So, what is it?”
“You got coffee on,” he asked, completely bypassing the query.
“Yeah, actually Felicity just made a fresh pot a few minutes ago,” I replied. “And, you know where the cups are. Now are you going to answer my question or not?”
“Jeezus, calm down and just open the damn envelope,” he replied as he snagged a mug from the cabinet and began filling it over the sink. “It’s a property release. Ran into the prosecutor, and I offered to save the city some postage.”
“You just happened to run into the prosecutor?” I echoed, interrupting him. “Isn’t that a little out of the ordinary, even for you?”
“Yeah, well, kinda.” He shrugged. “I’ll admit it was accidentally on purpose ‘cause I was doin’ some diggin’ and happened ta’ be standin’ in his office, but that don’t matter right now.” He paused to take a swig of the coffee then topped off the cup before sliding the carafe back into the base. “Anyhow, all ya’ gotta do is take that an’ your copy of the property voucher the crime scene guys had ya’ sign then go downtown and ask to see the properties officer. Give ‘em those, show ‘em your ID, coupla’ signatures, and ya’ can pick up everything they took during the search.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. That’s pretty much how it works.”
“No…I mean, yeah, I know that…I’m just saying that this was awfully fast.” I hmmphed thoughtfully. “I mean, I just talked to Jackie yesterday afternoon about what we needed to do to get our stuff back.”
“Well, yeah, it’s not unusual ta’ hafta get your attorney involved, but I don’t think ya’ can give ‘er credit for this one. They’re kinda in a hurry ta’ get past all this.”
“Any idea why?”
“Yeah, ‘cause they fucked up.”
“Obviously,” I said with an animated nod. “But what I mean is did you manage to get any details about what finally brought that fact to their attention?”
He looked around. “Where’s Firehair?”
“Downstairs starting another load of laundry; she’ll be up in a minute. Why?”
“I’ll tell ya’ when she’s here too, that way I only gotta say it once. So, look, ya’ got any sandwich stuff or anything? I skipped breakfast.”
“What happened?” I quipped. “Did coming here cause you to miss out on your donut fix this morning?”
“There ya’ go with the donut jokes again. Ya’know, ya’ better be careful. Not all coppers got as good a sense of humor as me.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Sandwich?”
I shook my head. “There’s stuff in the fridge. Help yourself, but seriously, Ben, don’t you ever buy groceries?”
He was already rooting through the shelves of the refrigerator, loading the crook of his arm with whatever happened to strike his fancy.
“Yeah,” he replied over his shoulder. “But yours are better.”
“Why? Because they’re free?”
“Well, yeah, that’s part of it,” he chuckled.
“You are going to put all that away when you’re done, aren’t you?” Felicity’s voice rang out from the doorway. “We’ve been cleaning since yesterday, and I don’t need you making a mess in here.”
“And how are you?” Ben asked without turning.
“I’m just fine, as long as you don’t wreck my house again.”
He turned toward her and held up his hands. “Hey, it wasn’t me that trashed the place.”
“Rowan tells me they had badges, so that means they were part of your little fraternity.”
“Ouch,” he feigned a wince. “Row’s got you hatin’ cops now too, eh?”
“I have a good reason of my own.”
“Yeah, I suppose you do.”
“And, destroying my belongings didn’t help,” she added.
“Again, not me.”
“There is the whole guilt by association concept.”
“Is there any way I’m gonna get outta this?” he asked, looking over at me.
“Probably not,” I replied. “You’re convenient right now, and there was definitely some damage done during the search. She’s not happy, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
“I’m pissed off is what I am,” she interjected.
“Shit,” he huffed. “A lot of damage?”
“Enough,” Felicity spat. “Besides, any at all is too much.”
He turned back to the pile of foodstuffs and began untwisting the tie on a loaf of bread. “Bag it, tag it, and make a list, then give it all ta’ your lawyer and tell ‘er what happened.”
“What good will that do?”
“Depends,” he replied. “Did ya’ take pictures of the place before ya’ started cleanin’ up?”
“No.” I shook my head even though he wasn’t looking my way. “I guess we should have.”
“Woulda’ been a good idea.”
“Well, it just didn’t cross my mind given everything that’s been going on.”
“Yeah, I can understand that. Either way, ya’ still need ta’ give the stuff to your mouthpiece. She might be able ta’ get ya’ a coupla’ bucks if the damage can be deemed unnecessary.”
“Aye, it was damned unnecessary,” Felicity spoke up again, her temper starting to flare. “I can tell you that right now.”
“Why don’t we change the subject.” I endeavored to shift the conversation away from re-lighting her fuse. “You had something to tell us, Ben?”
“What? Oh yeah…” He finished mounding deli meat and cheese on a slice of bread and then started twisting the lid from the jar of mayonnaise. “So, Firehair, you got a sister you been hidin’?”
“No,” she replied flatly, scrunching her brow. “And just where the hell did that question come from anyway?”
“The DNA tests.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Seems the DNA what hung ya’, sprung ya’.”
“Cute, but don’t quit your day job,” Felicity quipped. “Would you mind explaining just exactly what you’re talking about?”
Ben looked over to me. “Remember what Mandalay and I were tellin’ ya’ about the DNA last night?”
“No. I wasn’t here if you recall,” my wife chimed in an annoyed tone.
“I was talkin’ ta’ Rowan.”
“Well talk to me. It’s my DNA you’re babbling about.”
“Jeezus H. Christ, if it ain’t one of ya’, it’s the other. You wanna take a swing at me too?”
“If you don’t get to the point, aye, maybe I will.”
“Felicity,” I interjected. “Give him a chance to talk, okay?”
She let out a hard breath, and her shoulders drooped in unison with it. “I’m sorry, Ben,” she offered. “I’ve had better weekends if you know what I mean.”
“S’okay. It’s understandable,” he answered as he placed the dressed slice of bread atop the mound on the counter and mashed it down to a manageable thickness. “So anyway, we were explainin’ to Row about how DNA is used as evidence. The long and short of it is, what they got on you was a partial match. Thing is, it was such a close partial, and since the samples were degraded, it looked like enough ta’ go after ya’.”
“But it wasn’t?” she asked.
“Well, as it stood, yeah, it kinda was. Up until Saturday afternoon.”
I asked, “So what happened Saturday afternoon to change it?”
“Gettin’ ta’ that,” he said then grabbed the sandwich in one hand, took a huge bite and began to chew as he started putting away the makings.
Felicity watched him as he started placing things back into the refrigerator but by the third item was shouldering her way in front of him.
“Go sit down and eat,” she instructed, grabbing the mayonnaise from the center of the top shelf and placing it in the door where it belonged. “It’ll be easier if you just let me do this.”
“I promised I’d do it,” he mumbled as he chewed.
“No, actually you didn’t,” she replied then pointing in the direction of the breakfast nook ordered, “Now, sit, swallow, talk.”
“Okay,” he grunted as he choked down the mouthful then picked up his coffee and headed for the table, adding in a much clearer voice, “Whatever you say.”
“Careful, she likes obedient men,” I joked.
My wife snipped, “He’d take some serious training before I’d call him obedient.”
“Jeez, let’s don’t even go there, you two, okay?” he moaned.
“Then finish what you were telling us,” she urged.
He hastily complied. “So anyway, got some info in from some of the other homicides the NCIC had linked with the two here. Most of ‘em had squat, but turns out a couple of ‘em had even better samples to work with than us. Because of that they had complete DNA profiles.”
“So are you saying they didn’t match with me?” Felicity asked.
“Yes and no.”
“Make sense, Ben,” she said.
“That’s the thing. They cleared you because the full profile was different enough from yours. But, it was still damned close, and dead on with the partial from the other scenes.”
“So that’s why the crack about a sister,” I observed.
“‘Zactly,” he said with a nod. “Lab guy said the profiles are close enough they pretty much have to be siblings. Uncanny kinda close he said. If they had some of your father’s DNA for comparison that’d probably clinch it.”
“Good luck,” I offered. “I doubt Shamus would give it willingly.”
Felicity gave her head a confused shake. “Well, if they didn’t have the results in from the other murders, and they didn’t have an exact match, weren’t they a little premature in arresting me?”
“Yeah, well that’s another yes and no.”
“How is that?”
“Well, yeah, they were jumpin’ the gun a bit, but believe me, when ya’ got a dead federal judge and a dead cop, there’s a ton of pressure on.”
“So much that they were willing to do this to me even though they weren’t sure?”
“I’m afraid that’s the way it works, Felicity,” Ben replied. “Arrests don’t always come with a hundred percent guarantee that ya’ got the right person. You go based on evidence and reasonable suspicion.”
“But it sounds like the evidence wasn’t all in yet.”
“No, but sometimes you go with what you got, and if there’s a pile of circumstantial that fills in the holes, it starts makin’ for a case.”
“What other evidence did they have against me? Surely nothing they found here. Unless…”
“Unless what?” I asked, perking up at her tone.
“It’s nothing,” she replied quickly and with little conviction.
I had a suspicion about what the “nothing” actually was, and the look on Ben’s face told me he was debating about what he should say which meant he probably knew for certain. I considered turning to him for the answer, but given the situation I decided it would be better to let it go for the time being.
“Yeah,” Ben finally offered after an uncomfortable pause. “Well…Yeah, there was definitely some stuff that they dragged outta here they were gonna toss on the pile just for the sake of havin’ it, but they definitely had some other shit they thought was even more incriminating.”
“What?”
“It’s pretty obvious actually. How do ya’ know an elephant’s been in your refrigerator?”
“Excuse me?”
“How do ya’…”
“I heard the question, Ben,” she returned. “I just don’t understand what a silly children’s riddle has to do with what I just asked you.”
“The footprints in the butter,” I chimed in, going ahead and answering the old joke for him because I knew exactly where he was headed with the reference.
“Ding-ding,” he said, then looked over to my wife. “In this case, actually it was your shoe prints all over that fruitloop you picked up in the nightclub.”
“But I thought he wasn’t pressing charges,” she replied. “In fact I know he isn’t. Or at least he wasn’t as of last week.”
“He still ain’t that I know of,” Ben shook his head. “But that didn’t stop the crime scene guys from gettin’ pictures and more than just a little of his blood off your shoes.”
“But I didn’t…”
Ben held up his hand. “I know what you’re gonna say…You didn’t kill ‘im. They know that too, but it ain’t the point. Ya’ did shit to ‘im consistent with the killer’s M.O., and on top of that ya’ drew them freaky ass symbols all over the mirror in the motel room.”
“What symbols?
I perked up once again. This was the first I’d heard about her having drawn anything in the room, and I hadn’t been inside it myself to see. At the time, investigating a crime scene hadn’t been at the top of my list, protecting my wife had.
“Yeah, what symbols?” I asked.
“The one’s you said were all about that Voodoo stuff.”
“The veve?”
“Yeah.” He nodded then finished off the sandwich in a single bite before adding, “Those things. Right there on the mirror in bright red lipstick.”
Felicity frowned. “I don’t remember that.”
“Why didn’t you say anything about this before?” I asked.
“I couldn’t,” he replied. “I think I ‘splained that to ya’ about forty times in the last few days.”
“Okay, not that I’m wanting to help the prosecutor build a case or anything, but isn’t that pretty incriminating in and of itself?”
“Well, yeah, but it’s still circumstantial, and there’s no actual proof that Firehair drew ‘em. I mean, I think we can all be pretty sure she did, but there were people in and out of that room before she got there.” He looked over to my wife. “Not to mention the lipstick in your purse didn’t match, and they never found any in the room that did. So, by itself, not so solid.
“But when they got the DNA, that just became some more circumstantial filler. Then, after the DNA went south, it was back to bein’ nothin’ but suspicion. Now ya’ got reasonable doubt and nothin’ ta’ counter it with.”
“So Felicity is still under suspicion?”
“Some people still got some questions, but like I said, the DNA pretty much cleared ‘er even if it was freaky close. Although, because of that, there’s a new prevailing theory that she might still be in on it and is just coverin’ up for a sibling.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Felicity snapped.
“Hey, it’s not my theory.”
“Well, as far as that goes,” she continued, “I don’t know what to tell you. Unless my brother is running around in drag doing this, it’s got to be some kind of bizarre fluke.”
“Well, it’s definitely female DNA,” Ben added. “So I think your brother is safe on this one. Speakin’ of him, everything okay there?”
“Yeah,” I said with a nod. “With him, anyway. Can’t vouch for the rest of the family.”
“Aye, I’d rather not get into that,” Felicity interjected coldly.
“Yeah, me either.”
“So, you’re absolutely sure ya’ don’t have a sister?” Ben tossed the question out again.
“I already said so, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but are ya’ sure is what I’m askin’.”
“Look, Ben, when I was a child, like most little girls, I wanted a sister, yes,” she replied with an annoyed sigh. “But I sure as hell didn’t manifest one. So, yes, I’m sure I don’t have a sister. Only a brother.”
“Well, I know ya’ didn’t wanna talk family,” he pressed. “But ya’ might wanna open a coupla’ closets ‘cause the lab guy says he’d bet hard money you do.”
“So…is this it?” I asked, looking across the table at my wife. “The ‘nothing’?”
“The what?” Felicity returned her own query, only briefly glancing up from the box she was unpacking.
“This,” I said, pulling a dark purple bag from a cardboard box and hefting it up in front of her. “When I saw you on Saturday you tried to tell me something about an overnight bag, but we got interrupted. So, I just kind of assumed it was something the police had in their possession.
“Then today when we were talking to Ben, something about evidence taken from the house had you a bit on edge, and when I asked you about it…”
“I said, it was nothing.” She finished the sentence for me.
True to what Ben had told us, the recovery of our seized property was far easier than I had expected it to be. In fact, the drive downtown and back took longer than the actual paperwork. The only requirement over and above that which he had detailed for us was that I also needed to show my handgun permit in order to get my confiscated revolver returned to me. Fortunately, I had anticipated such and had it in my wallet.
While there, Felicity had quickly inventoried the items against the voucher and everything appeared to be intact. Everything that was on the official list, anyway, because at the time of seizure, I had angrily signed the piece of paper they presented with little more than a quick glance. All I had wanted right at that moment was to get them out of my house, so I wasn’t using the best judgment. The truth was, they could have walked out with things they didn’t bother to list, but there wasn’t much I could do about that at this point. I was going to have to take them at their word.
We had only just returned home and unloaded the trio of boxes from the back of my wife’s Jeep. Immediately emptying them of their contents and putting things back where they belonged seemed like the best thing to do, rather than have them sit around as a reminder of the legally sanctioned violation of our lives. So, that task became the undertaking of the moment.
The overnight bag just happened to be at the top of the pile in the first box I opened.
“Umm…yes,” she spoke again after a long pause then repeated while still staring at the bag, “Yes, that’s it. I’d actually almost forgotten about it until this morning…actually, you weren’t supposed to get that box…I must have mixed them up.”
“Okay,” I said with a shrug then placed the weighty carryall on the seat of the dining room chair between us. “Then I’ll forget about it too.”
I was lying. I wasn’t going to forget about it. There was really no way that I could. The urgency in her voice when she had first mentioned the overnight bag back at the Justice Center still hadn’t left me. Then, there was the “nothing” comment on top of it. Obviously something about it concerned her greatly. Even more so, what my impression of it, or something inside it, would be. Therefore, although my mind had placed the snippet of conversation in a holding pattern for the past few days, it was still there. Seeing the bag now had simply returned it to the forefront.
My curiosity, however, was going to need to remain unquenched. Whatever the mysterious purple bag held was apparently deeply personal for Felicity, otherwise I would have known of it before now. Violating its sanctity would make me no different than those who had already crossed that boundary, and pressing her to talk about it would only demonstrate distrust on my part.
I delved back into the box before me and began extracting the stack of books lined in the bottom. I was going to need to sort them out and return a few to the library sometime this week. I was on my third handful of the tomes when Felicity spoke.
“You want to know what’s in it, don’t you.” She wasn’t asking a question, she was making an observation.
I looked up at her and shrugged again. “No. It’s not important.”
“You’re lying.”
“Yeah, so?”
“It’s just…I mean…It’s…”
“Honey, don’t worry about it.”
“I can’t not,” she appealed. “I don’t want you to distrust me.”
“Why would I distrust you?”
“For keeping something from you.” She motioned toward the bag and added, “For keeping this from you.”
I stopped what I was doing and slowly let out a thoughtful breath. I couldn’t be sure if she was opening the door and inviting me in or if it was only cracked enough to pull the safety chain taut, affording her the ability to slam it in my face if I misspoke.
I took in a fresh breath and smiled. “Not long ago, a dear and very wise friend told me that we all keep secrets, even from those we love. And, that sometimes we do so for that very reason. Out of love.”
She cast a glance toward the bag and fidgeted nervously for a moment then looked back to my face. “Helen.”
“Yes. Helen.”
“What else did she tell you?”
“Nothing I didn’t already know.”
She remained silent in the wake of my answer, so I continued. “Felicity, Gods know I’ve kept things from you over the past few years. Things about cases I’ve helped work, things about visions I’ve had. Believe me, there are still some things locked away in my head that I haven’t told anyone, especially you, all purely out of love and my desire to keep you safe. So, you see, it’s a two-way street.”
“But, that’s different,” she objected.
I shook my head. “Not really. Obviously whatever is in that bag is something you think may hurt me or change the way I feel about you. Correct?”
“Aye.”
“Then it’s no different, and there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Are you certain?” she asked tentatively.
“Yes.”
“I just want to be sure,” she said. “I need to know that you trust me.”
“I do.”
“Even with this between us?” She nodded toward the bag.
“Let me ask you this. Do you want to show me what’s in there?”
Again she cast a furtive glance at the duffle, dwelled there for a moment, and then looked back to me. “I don’t know yet.”
“Okay, then, you don’t have to. I trust you. And, I trust that if you ever decide you want me to know this particular secret, you’ll share it.”
“How can you be so sure, when I’m not?”
“Easy. You sat in our kitchen around two weeks ago and announced that you had a fairly rich history with the bondage sub-culture. That was something new to me.”
“Yes, but that just sort of came out. I think it might have been the circumstances, the investigation and such because I even surprised myself by saying it. I wasn’t really thinking.”
“I’m sure it probably was the situation, and actually you really were thinking, sweetheart. You knew you could shed some light on a minor mystery and you did. Admitting how you knew the things you did was merely a natural progression from there.”
“At the time it seemed okay,” she replied. “But, after the fact, I was afraid I’d made a very bad mistake in telling you.”
“Honey, I may not have known about the history, but I can’t say I was surprised. You’ve got the personality. I even told you that.”
She let out a nervous laugh. “Aye, I know I do.”
“And, there you have the answer to your question. The reason I can be sure is because I am fully aware that if and when it comes time for me to know, you’ll tell me.”
The trepidation faded from her face, and she finally managed a tentative smile. “Have I told you today that I love you, Rowan Linden Gant?”
“A couple of times, but I can stand hearing it again.”
Wednesday, November 23
11:04 P.M.
Baton Rouge, Louisiana