Harm none argi-1

by M. R. Sellars

  “No,” he replied as he hooked the van around the slower traffic. “You sons-of-bitches! Can’t you hear the siren!” he screamed at the other drivers and then turned back to me. “No, she didn’t. She said she was conscious when they brought her in though.”

  The pains in my stomach were growing more intense with each passing moment. I began to realize that it wasn’t R.J. that I was feeling empathy for. It was my wife.

  “She was fine when I left her,” I volunteered. “Just a little morning sickness. Hell, I’ve only been gone for a couple of hours. What could have happened?”

  “I dunno,” Ben offered, “but like I said, Allison told me she was awake when they brought her in, so that’s a good sign at least.”

  “It has to be something to do with the baby,” I asserted.

  “You don’t know that. I’m sure everything’s fine.”

  “No. It’s not.” I held fast as another burst of pain shot through my abdomen. “I’ve been having pains in my stomach for about an hour now.”

  “So?”

  “So, it’s called empathy,” I told him. “At first I thought I was getting it from R.J. because he was nervous and all that, but now I know better. I’m feeling Felicity’s pain.”

  “Like some kinda psychic thing or somethin’?” Ben half asked, half remarked. “Jeezus, you guys are unbelievable.”

  The siren continued warbling loudly as he quickly cranked the steering wheel to the right, sending us into the cloverleaf from Interstate 64 to exit onto Kingshighway. The hospital was within sight now, only the sluggish traffic barring our way. Ben drove the van halfway up onto the inside shoulder in order to skirt around the cars that were slowly moving out of our way, and the engine groaned in protest at the abuse it was taking. The vehicle buffeted wildly and rocked on worn suspension when the tires finally leapt from the curb and once again contacted level pavement. Moments later, we broke through the lethargic traffic, and Ben propelled us forward without heed to the signal lights and signs.

  We quickly traveled the two short blocks running alongside the hospital, whereupon we hooked right, sliding at first then accelerating out of the turn. At the end of the short sprint, Ben jammed on the brakes, forcing the Chevy to screech to a halt before the entrance to the emergency room.

  “Go. GO!” he urged as I wrestled my way out of the seatbelt and flung my door open.

  I jumped from the van and ran the short distance to the entrance. The automatic doors instantly began to open, though not fast enough in my mind, so I turned sideways, forcing my way through as the gap widened. The cold, conditioned air, reeking of antiseptic, slapped me hard in the face as I pushed my way through a second set of doors and stumbled to a stop at the admitting desk.

  “O’Brien,” I insisted. “Felicity O’Brien. Where is she?”

  A blank-faced nurse quietly stared back at me and seated herself at a computer terminal behind the desk. Reaching up, she slid a clipboard and pen toward me.

  “Fill this out and return it to the desk,” she stated mechanically and without emotion.

  “Dammit, I don’t need treatment!” I pushed the clipboard hard across the counter, and it slid off onto the floor with a raucous clatter. “I’m looking for my wife, Felicity O’Brien. She was brought in here a little while ago!”

  By now, Ben had joined me, leaving the haphazardly parked van where it was, red light still flickering wildly. He had at least taken the time to turn off the clamoring siren.

  “And your name is?” the nurse questioned like an automaton.

  “Rowan. Rowan Gant,” I returned impatiently.

  “Relation?”

  “I told you already!” I shouted. “She’s my wife!”

  “Ben, Rowan!” The exclamation came from our immediate right.

  We both turned quickly to face the direction from which the voice had issued and were presented with the somber face of Allison Storm, Ben’s wife. Her white uniform was obviously rumpled more than usual. A long strand of her fine brown hair hung wildly across her face, and she gently brushed it away with the back of her hand.

  “Where’s Felicity?” I asked roughly. “What happened?”

  “Calm down, Rowan,” she told me. “She’s okay. She’s going to be fine.”

  “The baby?”

  She just looked down at the floor then back at me. “I’m sorry.”

  “What happened?” I appealed, fighting back the emotion that was continuing to well inside me.

  “Why don’t you come with me,” Allison soothed. “I’m on a break right now. We’ll go see Felicity, and we can talk.”

  I desperately wanted to know what had happened to my wife, but at the same time I knew Allison was right, I needed to calm down. I knew she wouldn’t give me the run around, so I simply nodded and forced myself to remain quiet. Ben and I followed her down the long hallway, twisting and turning until we reached a bank of elevators. The three of us waited in silence and once the polished metal doors slid open, stepped inside and rode upward. I was too preoccupied with my concern for Felicity to even notice which floor we finally arrived at. A few short stretches of corridor mixed with a couple of quick turns, and we entered a private room.

  The first thing to catch my eye was my petite wife, innocent and childlike as she peacefully slept in the hospital bed. An IV bag hung from a stand nearby with the long plastic tube leading from its base to the back of her hand where it was neatly and firmly taped in place. I quietly made my way farther into the room to the side of the bed and gently caressed her cheek.

  “She’s sedated,” Allison volunteered. “She needs to rest for a while.”

  “I won’t wake her,” I whispered and then turned to face Allison. “Now, can somebody please tell me what happened?”

  “It’s my fault,” a slightly familiar voice quietly admitted from behind me. “I’m sorry, Mister Gant.”

  I turned to see the owner of the voice, and my eyes fell on Cally’s face. She had been seated in the corner of the room the entire time, unnoticed, and now stood, uncertainly staring at me. Her face wore the expression of a school child that had just disappointed a respected teacher.

  “What do you mean it’s your fault, Cally?” I asked, turning fully to face her.

  “I couldn’t reach Detective Storm.” She began gushing, tears welling in her eyes and rolling across her flushed cheeks. “They said he was in a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed. I tried calling you, but Felicity said you were with the detective, so I told her and she came over. I never should have called.”

  She was crying harder now, burying her face in her hands, shoulders beginning to heave.

  “Told her what?” I prodded anxiously. “Come over where?”

  “To my house,” she whimpered. “I told her Devon was on his way over and that I couldn’t reach Detective Storm, so she came over to my house.”

  Ben, ever the cop, immediately pulled out his notebook and flipped to a fresh page in preparation for taking notes. I strode the few steps between Cally and myself and then took her gently by the shoulders.

  “Easy Cally, calm down.” I slowly guided her back into the chair then retrieved a small packet of tissues from the table and knelt beside her. “Now, take a deep breath, ground and center. I know you can do it.”

  A hot, tingling sensation washed over me, and I instantly realized that I needed to heed my own advice. I placed my hand on hers and continued to soothe her with calm encouragement, easing her-and myself-into a relaxed breath. When her shuddering stopped, and she dabbed the last of the tears away with a tissue, I continued. “Now, tell me what happened.”

  “Like I said,” she outlined, watching my face studiously, “I couldn’t reach Detective Storm, so I tried to call you. I wanted to tell someone that Devon called me and said he was on his way over. He knew the police were looking for him because of his neighbor or something. Felicity said you were with Detective Storm, so I told her about it. She took down my address and told me to just stay put. She sai
d she would be over in a few minutes and not to worry about anything.”

  Ben was scribbling rapidly when I looked over at him. Allison, having already heard the story, was dutifully tending to Felicity, checking her IV and pulse.

  “Go on,” I urged.

  “Well, Devon got there before Felicity did,” Cally continued. “He was acting pretty wired, like he was scared and all. He kept asking me if the police had talked to me.”

  “What did you tell ‘im?” Ben questioned.

  “I told him no,” she turned her face to him, “but I don’t think he believed me. He kept asking if I was lying.” She turned back to me. “Anyway, when Felicity got there, she rang the doorbell, and Devon went crazy.”

  “How do you mean?” I demanded. “What did he do?”

  “Just spastic, you know,” she went on. “He accused me of calling the cops and started yelling a lot. He wouldn’t let me answer the door.”

  Ben’s voice came from behind me. “Did he attack you?”

  “No,” Cally told him. “Not really. He just stayed between me and the door and kept yelling about the cops and the ASPCA, and all.”

  “So, I’m still not clear on what happened to Felicity,” I expressed, biting back my growing impatience.

  “I guess she could hear Devon yelling and got worried or something,” she ventured, “because all of a sudden she came through the door. I guess it was unlocked, and she just decided to try and help me, you know. Devon thought she was a cop, and I guess he was trying to get away because he just took off for the door. He ran right into her and slammed her into the wall real hard.” She started slowly weeping again, sniffling as she spoke, “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t called her, this never would have happened.”

  “No, Cally.” I forced my voice to remain calm. “It wasn’t your fault. You did the right thing by calling.”

  Ben’s practiced voice came again. “Did anyone else show up? Any cops?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “They chased after Devon. I don’t know why they came. I guess Felicity called them.”

  By now she had returned to fully involved sobbing, and no amount of reassurance from me was going to convince her that she was not to blame. I glanced back at Allison and motioned for her to trade places with me, which she did assiduously. This done, Ben and I quietly retreated from the room.

  “I thought Felicity knew we had the place covered,” Ben stated low-voiced once we were in the hall. “Why the hell did she go over there?”

  “I don’t know,” I puzzled. “Maybe she forgot? Maybe she just wanted to help Cally. Only she can answer that. Do you think they caught the bastard?”

  “I’ll call in and find out,” he replied. “He couldn’t get far if he was on foot. Whaddaya make of that bit about the ASPCA?”

  “Yeah, I noticed that. The ASPCA,” I echoed, “like maybe he thought the police were after him because of the whole incident with sacrificing the dog.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “If he committed the murders, it seems like that would be the furthest thing from his mind,” I ventured.

  “Yeah, I think you’re right,” Ben agreed. “We’ll still talk to him though.”

  “You still think R.J. did it, don’t you?”

  “I think I’ve got a lot of evidence that points straight at ‘im. A lot of it is circumstantial I admit, but there’s the fingerprint on the candle, the blood type, and the hairs. DNA test’ll show for sure if he was with Ellen Gray.”

  “But that’s just on the latest victim, and we know he was having an affair with her,” I maintained.

  “He never admitted to that.”

  “Come on, Ben. You saw how he acted when you mentioned her name,” I pointed out.

  “What I saw him do was clam up and ask for a lawyer.”

  “I would have too,” I contended. “Besides, you still can’t connect him with Karen Barnes.”

  “I can connect him with Ariel Tanner,” he shot back angrily. “Shit, we’re obviously dealin’ with a psycho, maybe the kid’s got a fuckin’ split personality or somethin’!”

  I stared back silently, stunned by his sudden outburst. I knew this case was wearing on him, but something else was there too. His hand went up to his neck, and he let out a heavy sigh.

  “Listen,” Ben’s voice was much calmer. “I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t be snappin’ at ya’. It’s just that…”

  Ben was unceremoniously interrupted by the shrill tone of his beeper as it demanded his attention. He automatically pulled it from his belt and quickly perused its liquid crystal face.

  “It’s a call from the coppers I had sittin’ on Cally’s house,” he told me. “I’d better get in touch with ‘em.”

  “Go ahead,” I urged. “I’ll be with Felicity.”

  “Look, Rowan…” Ben struggled with the words as he wagged his finger back and forth between us. “Are you and me okay?”

  “Yeah,” I reassured him. “We’re fine. Go make your call.”

  “How’re you feeling?” I whispered as I leaned forward and brushed the hair from her face.

  “Aye, tired,” she murmured, “and sore.”

  I returned a half-hearted smile. “I’ll bet.”

  “Rowan…Has anyone told you…About, you know…”

  “Yeah, I know about it. Allison told me. I’m sorry.”

  A small teardrop glistened in the corner of her eye and slowly rolled across her cheek to wet the pillow.

  “I’m the one who should apologize, then,” she returned. “I never should have gone over there. Cally just sounded so frightened…”

  “Shhhh.” I brushed away the next tear as it began to journey down her face. “It’s all right. You did exactly what I would have done. It’s okay.”

  She blinked rapidly then took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She lay there in silence, just looking back at me for a few short moments as she regained her composure.

  “Is Cally okay, then?” she finally asked.

  “Physically, she’s fine. He never laid a hand on her,” I answered. “Mentally. About as well as can be expected. She blames herself for what happened to you. Allison took her down for coffee a little while ago.”

  “It wasn’t her fault.”

  “I know,” I assured her. “I know.”

  “Aye, what about Devon? Did they catch him?”

  “Ben went to check on that. The officers that were watching Cally’s place just beeped him.”

  Watching her face, I could see that the tranquilizer had not worn off and was creeping up on her once again. Her breathing became easier, and she began sliding backward into relaxation.

  “I’ve got a shoot to do this afternoon,” Felicity told me groggily.

  “No you don’t. I’ll call them and re-schedule for you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “I love you” was the last thing she whispered before drifting into the arms of sleep.

  “I love you, too,” I returned and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

  I waited a few more minutes before deciding to go in search of Ben. I attempted to retrace our steps in coming to this room and as I had not paid attention, quickly became lost. As I rounded a corner, I came upon what resembled a small break room and was almost immediately bowled over as a red-faced Allison Storm rushed angrily past me. I looked after her then peered into the open doorway, only to find Ben, hands in his pockets and hangdog expression creasing his face. Something was definitely wrong between the two of them. I assumed it was the amount of time he was spending on this case and that I had just witnessed the tail end of an argument it had caused.

  “You okay?” I queried as I stepped through the doorway.

  “What? Yeah.” He looked up and noticed me. “Yeah, I’m fine. How’s the squaw?”

  “She woke up for a minute or two,” I replied. “She’s doing okay, considering. Oh, and I guessed right. She went over there because she wanted to help Call
y.”

  “Sounds like her.”

  “You sure you’re okay?” I asked again and hooked my thumb over my shoulder. “You seem a little preoccupied, and Allison looked kind of irritated…”

  “Yeah, I’m good.” He pulled his hands from his pockets and straightened from where he had been leaning against the wall. “She’s okay. It’s just been a rough day for ‘er. Hell, for all of us.”

  I decided not to push any further out of respect for my friend. If he and his wife were having problems, it was none of my business unless he chose to tell me. If he made that choice, I would be there to listen, no questions asked.

  “So,” I changed the subject, “that phone call get you anywhere? Did you find anything out?”

  “Oh yeah.” He brightened noticeably. “They were in the lobby. Seems the son-of-a-bitch is in surgery right this minute, in this very hospital.”

  “Surgery?” I puzzled. “What happened, did they shoot him?”

  “Nope.” Ben explained, “Seems the idiot went over a fence when they were chasin’ ‘im and landed smack in the middle of a dog pen. Apparently, the pit bull livin’ in it at the time was not pleased.”

  “How bad?” I grimaced.

  “Sounds REAL bad,” he answered. “It took ‘em awhile ta’ get the dog off ‘im. Unfortunately, they ended up havin’ ta’ drop the hammer on it.”

  “Is he going to live?”

  “Don’t know. Benson-that’s the copper that I talked to-told me the doc said he’d lost a lot of blood. It’s pretty much touch and go right now.”

  “The threefold return,” I muttered under my breath.

  “What was that?” Ben asked.

  “The threefold return,” I pronounced more clearly. “It’s a belief we Witches have, that everything we do will return to us threefold. Good or Bad.”

  “Yeah. What goes around comes around. You’ve said that before. So?”

  “So Devon sacrificed a dog,” I explained.

  Ben looked at me, and his eyes widened as the irony behind what I had just said sunk in. When he finally opened his mouth, all he could say was “Oh.”