Blood Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation Read online

  “I’m fuckin’ serious as a heart attack, Row,” he replied. “You think I’m not worried about ya’?”

  The tone of his voice was sincere, but I could read something else beneath the words. Ben was nothing if not a loyal friend, and while he didn’t usually pull punches and could occasionally be hard to read, he always had our best interests at heart, even if it didn’t necessarily seem like it at the time. However, none of that stopped him from being a cop with a murder to solve, and I knew it.

  “I don’t doubt that you are,” I told him. “But I also think you have an ulterior motive.”

  “Jeezus, Row…”

  “Am I wrong?”

  “What? Are ya’ some kinda lie detector now?”

  “Depends. Are you lying?”

  “Okay… Fine… Yeah… I admit I’m curious what you might’ve come up with on this case if ya’ went all la-la land, which it sure looked like you were gonna do yesterday. I’ve been through this kinda crap with ya’ a few too many times. I guess I’ve gotten used to gettin’ your opinion when the weird shit pops up. So sue me.”

  “At the risk of repeating myself, aren’t you the one who always tells me the cops were catching the bad guys long before I showed up?”

  “Yeah, I am,” he replied. “And we’ll keep doin’ it too. But I’m also the guy who told you a good cop’ll use whatever legal and reasonable means he has at his disposal to catch those bad guys.”

  “So now I’m ‘Rowan Gant the investigative tool’, am I? Nothing more than a means to an end?” I offered the questions in a rhetorical tone.

  I suppose I should have been hurt by what he’d said, but deep down I really wasn’t. Given everything the two of us had been through together, of all people I could easily see the logic in what he was saying. Still, my reaction was knee-jerk, and I knew I didn’t sound terribly pleased.

  “Yeah, well you’re bein’ a tool,” he grunted then his tone turned serious. “But yeah, in a way you’re definitely an investigative resource. But you can leave out the ‘nothing more than’ bullshit. First and foremost you’re my friend, Row, and this ain’t all about the case. I really am worried about you’n Firehair bein’ safe.”

  His sentiment was obviously unfeigned, and the emphasis he placed on the word safe was so clear that I truly felt bad for having put him on the spot.

  “Sorry,” I apologized, a bit of embarrassment creeping into my voice. “I’m just a little touchy about all this right now.”

  “No shit,” he returned, an obvious gloss of sarcasm on the words. “I couldn’t tell.”

  “Well, in my defense this isn’t exactly easy. Just because I’m quitting doesn’t mean they are.”

  “Pretty rough, huh?”

  “It’s kind of hard to explain, Ben. But, remember how you felt when you quit smoking cigarettes?”

  “Yeah. Hell, I had the shakes and everything. It sucked big time. That what this is like?”

  “Kind of. But multiply it by about ten, and then imagine someone constantly trying to force you to smoke, and you really want to, but can’t. That’s pretty much how I’m feeling right now.”

  “So the Twilight Zone is really fuckin’ with ya’ big time, eh?”

  “Yeah. A bit of an understatement, but yeah, that’s about the best way I can explain it.”

  “So you’re goin’ through all that, and you’re still sittin’ there tellin’ me you’re okay,” he admonished.

  “I am,” I replied. “It’s just something I have to deal with. Sure, it would probably be easier to just let it happen and be done with it, but I can’t do that.”

  “Yeah, I guess Firehair would have your ass, wouldn’t she?”

  “Surprisingly, no. She actually suggested I go ahead and give in.”

  “Do what? Felicity? Are we talkin’ about the same person?”

  “Yeah, Ben, I know. After yesterday she thinks maybe it’s worse on me when I fight it.”

  “Worse? Jeezus H. Christ, Row… You sure you don’t wanna just tell me what happened?”

  “Maybe some other time, Ben.”

  “Okay, so then tell me this: If Firehair is okay with you goin’ to the Twilight Zone, why are ya’ puttin’ yourself through the bullshit?”

  “The way I feel right now, I’m starting to wonder that myself. If I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

  “Yeah, okay. Well, I guess if ya’ ain’t gonna give me details then I’m gonna hafta take your word for it.”

  “Pretty much,” I agreed.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No. Just sit tight and we’ll see what happens.”

  “You realize I’m not so good at that, right? The just sittin’ by part, I mean.”

  “Yeah, I know, but that’s about all we can do right now. So anyway, can we maybe change the subject? Constantly talking about it really isn’t helping, you know. It’s kind of like offering me a cigarette.”

  “Yeah…yeah, no problem… Actually, I did have another reason for callin’. I got that info you wanted on Devereaux’s attorney.”

  “Great. I was afraid you might have forgotten about that.”

  “Didn’t forget, but it wasn’t exactly high on the priority list until about half an hour ago.”

  “Half an hour ago? Why?”

  “‘Cause that’s about when a process server showed up downstairs with a subpoena for me from Devereaux’s mouthpiece. Kinda brought it back around, ya’know.”

  “Subpoena? For what?’

  “Deposition,” he grunted. “They wanna grill me for a while. The bottom-feeders do this crap all the time. Tryin’ ta’ find somethin’ they can twist and use to get their client off. Technicality, or whatever… It ain’t unusual. But, I should warn ya’…they’re prob’ly gonna ask me about Firehair and the whole thing at that motel with Lewis.”

  “Great.”

  “Just thought you should know. But I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “It’s kind of hard not to.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I’m tellin’ ya’ don’t. It’ll be fine.”

  “Okay, but I’m still sorry you’re getting sucked into it.”

  “Like I said, I’m used to this shit,” he replied with an audible shrug in his voice. “Besides, I worked the case. I was gonna get subpoenaed anyway. I’m just surprised it came today.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “It ain’t my day off.”

  “What’s that got to do with it?”

  “It’s a cop thing, don’t worry about it.”

  Obviously there was a hidden meaning in the comment, but I didn’t press him for an explanation. His call actually wasn’t the first I’d received this morning, and a quick glance at the clock in the corner of my computer screen reminded me that I had someplace to be in less than an hour. I simply jotted down the information he had for me then rushed off the phone.

  Whether I felt up to it or not, I really needed to make it to this particular meeting. However, it had become apparent over the course of the past several minutes that I was going to need a handful of aspirin deposited into my system before I did anything else.

  CHAPTER 9:

  “Thanks for meeting me here, Maggie,” I said to the woman on the opposite side of the café table. “I know it’s been a pain trying to get our schedules to jive, so I really appreciate you calling this morning.”

  “It’s no trouble, Rowan,” my mother-in-law replied as she glanced at her watch. “I’m sorry I can only spare a few minutes. I do need to be home soon.”

  Maggie O’Brien was petite in stature, just like her daughter. Of course, as was to be expected, there were also several other resemblances between them; therefore, even with a cursory glance there was definitely no denying their familial connection—it was just that obvious. The ever-present Celtic lilt in her voice simply cemented that observation on the audible level. However, within a scant few minutes of conversation, it was easy to see that my wife’s penchant for Gaelic curses must have c
ome from her father’s side and not her mother’s.

  These days Maggie’s shag of hair was more along the line of grey highlighted with chestnut, rather than the other way around, as it had been when I first met her quite some time ago. But other than that, she still maintained a far more youthful appearance than her actual years, and almost anyone would be hard pressed to pinpoint her true age simply by looking at her.

  “I understand,” I said with a nod. “But I promise this shouldn’t take long.”

  “I must admit, you’ve sounded rather urgent on the phone when we’ve been trying to schedule this, so my curiosity has been piqued.”

  “I suppose I do owe you an apology for that. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression.”

  She shook her head. “You didn’t. Obviously it is something important. But I am wondering about why you insisted on speaking with me privately.”

  I glanced around. We were sitting in the back corner of a coffee house, and while they weren’t terribly busy at the moment, that could easily change. For now, however, there were only a few patrons besides us. If I had to guess I would say they were all most likely students from the nearby university. Of course, that assumption was a no-brainer given the proximity of the college. That, and the book bags and notebook computers propped on their tables. Complimentary wi-fi internet access was one of the advertised features of this particular shop, and from the looks of things it was definitely being used.

  But, the truth is they didn’t really matter. They were strangers. The people I didn’t want hearing this conversation weren’t. They were family.

  “Well, I wouldn’t say private, exactly,” I returned with a shrug. “Maybe just somewhat confidential.”

  Even though I had been trying to set up this face-to-face with her for better than two months, I was finding it hard to get the ball rolling. Now that the opportunity was finally here, I had to take advantage of it and I knew that—even though my head still hadn’t stopped pounding and a phantom pain was once again setting up shop in my neck.

  “In other words, you wanted to speak to me without Shamus around,” she replied.

  “Well, I think we both know I’m not his favorite person,” I said, struggling not to wince as a fresh sting made itself known. Unfortunately, I failed miserably and felt myself physically twitch.

  “Are you okay, then?” Maggie asked, furrowing her brow as she looked at me.

  I nodded slightly then picked up my overpriced cup of coffee and took a sip, for no other reason than to stall while the stab faded. “I’m fine,” I told her. “Just a headache is all. Tension probably.”

  “Did you take anything for it?”

  “Yeah. I took some aspirin before I left the house. Hopefully they’ll kick in soon.”

  I knew full well the handful of analgesics weren’t going to get rid of the pain, they never did. But if I was lucky, they just might dull it enough for me to function, at least until I was back home and didn’t have to do anything other than stare at a wall.

  “You aren’t coming down with something, are you?” she asked.

  “Maybe,” I agreed to appease her, just as I’d done when I’d heard the same thing from my wife the day before. As common as the simple question was, the way she asked it gave me the distinct impression Felicity had picked up a few verbal traits from her mother as well.

  Before Maggie could push any further, I continued my earlier thought. “So, like I was saying, since I’m sure Shamus would just as soon not have any more contact with me than he has to, I thought we should meet someplace other than your house.”

  “He would just have to get over it then,” she replied. “But I certainly understand your not wanting to deal with him right now. We all know Shamus can be very vocal about his opinions, not to mention totally unreasonable as well.”

  “Thanks for seeing my side of things,” I said with a slight nod.

  There was a time when I would have been shocked to hear her say that about her husband. I had long been under the impression I was merely tolerated by the majority of my wife’s family, especially her parents. I couldn’t be sure of all the factors surrounding the negative sentiment, but I knew the primary reason was because of my religious beliefs since I had been told as much. In fact, I had even been accused more than once of corrupting Felicity, which was laughable given that she had been a practicing Witch long before I ever met her.

  However, very recently, some of the dynamic had radically changed due to an O’Brien clan secret that had been brought into the light. With it had come a personal revelation that, while minor in comparison to the secret itself, was monumental to me: it was the fact that Shamus was really the only one who truly had the issues.

  Unfortunately, his self-righteous attitude where I was concerned hadn’t dulled in the wake of the shakeup, even though he was actually the one harboring the dirty deeds. It didn’t seem to matter to him that the family skeleton revealed was the fact that he had carried on an extramarital affair with his sister-in-law, Caitlin, and had even fathered a child with her. Granted, something like that certainly wasn’t the end of the world, but it wasn’t exactly nothing either. However, Maggie had apparently forgiven him since she had found out about it early on, and they had still stayed together all these years. So, in that sense, it was all water under the bridge. The real problem was that his lapse of fidelity went far deeper than simple betrayal. The child the union had produced was instantly given up for adoption under pressure from the family. Again, not a truly big deal until you considered the fact that she had eventually grown up to become a twisted serial killer named Annalise Devereaux.

  While Shamus couldn’t necessarily be blamed for her sociopathic tendencies, I would have thought such an outcome would at least give him pause. Especially given that a partial DNA match had prompted murder charges being brought against his daughter with Maggie—namely, Felicity.

  But, it hadn’t. And, since he still tried to twist everything that had happened to somehow be my fault, I was firmly convinced I would never be able to understand his particular level of arrogance.

  “Are you certain you’re okay, Rowan?” Maggie finally asked.

  “What?”

  “I asked if you’re certain you are okay,” she repeated. “You seem a bit disconnected.”

  I sighed. “I suppose I am. I have quite a bit on my mind. Sorry.”

  “No need to apologize.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So here we are. I understand why you want to avoid Shamus, but what about Felicity, then?” she asked, cocking her head to the side and giving me an odd glance. “Are you keeping secrets from her now?”

  Her question was honest and direct, so I answered in kind, “Only when I don’t want her to worry.”

  “What is it you aren’t wanting her to worry about?”

  My inability to broach the subject I had come here to discuss was now moot. Thankfully, Maggie was providing the opening, even if she didn’t realize it.

  I dug in my jacket pocket then extracted a small jar that had originally held some herb or spice. At first glance, the capped glass cylinder appeared to be filled with nothing more that tiny white granules. However, I gave it several rapid shakes, and the crystals shifted to reveal a delicate chain, at the end of which was a pendant. I continued carefully tapping the jar against the edge of the table until I had successfully uncovered the small half coin ornament, bringing its face fully into view.

  Holding the container at an angle, I showed it to Maggie. “I need for you to tell me whatever you can about this necklace.”

  My mother-in-law looked through the glass at the piece of jewelry. Her face had bordered on being expressionless as she leaned forward, but I caught a quick smile that was immediately followed by a frown tugging hard at the corners of her mouth. With a quiet sigh she sat back and looked up to my face then shrugged while shaking her head as if there was nothing to tell.

  “I’m used to seeing Felicity wear that. Does she know you
are carrying it about in a bottle?”

  “As a matter of fact, she does.”

  “What is in there with it?” she asked. “It looks like salt…or maybe sugar.”

  “You were correct on the first guess. Salt.”

  “Do you mind if I ask why?”

  “It’s complicated, but trust me, I have my reasons.”

  She glanced back at the bottle for a moment as if her eyes were drawn there, then looked up and stared over my shoulder. “Honestly, I try not to think too much about that necklace. Of course, that’s hard when I see it around my daughter’s neck.”

  “Why?”

  “Like you, I have my reasons.”

  “I see. Felicity said you gave it to her,” I offered.

  “Yes, years ago. When she was a teenager.”

  “So, it’s a family heirloom then?”

  She finally brought her gaze back to meet mine. “Yes and no. I’m sure that it was for someone,” she mused. “But, not my family. Shamus gave it to me for my birthday a long time ago.”

  I nodded. “So then it didn’t belong to his mother or someone else on his side either?”

  “No,” she replied, shaking her head again. “It’s definitely an antique, but he bought it while he was away on business in New Orleans.”

  The reference to the Crescent City alone was enough to make me catch my breath. Less than three months ago I had been there in search of Annalise, and more importantly, Miranda. It was starting to look like my suspicion may be closer to the mark than I originally imagined.

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” I began, “if this was a birthday gift…”

  She interrupted and finished the question “…why did I give it away?”

  I shrugged. “Well…yes.”

  “Unpleasant memories,” she replied, a coldness in her tone. “You see, I later found out my sister was with him on that trip. I think you know the rest of that story.”

  “Which would be your reason for not thinking about the necklace,” I stated the obvious as my brain did the math.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I’d be dredging that up again.”