“… I feel like I should, but I just don’t…”
“… but I just don’t…”
“… just don’t…”
“Rowan…” A different voice now called me by name. This time however, I had the distinct feeling it belonged to someone familiar. Its tone was far more adamant, not to mention that it was also joined by a not-so-gentle nudge from something that felt curiously like an elbow.
I flinched at the sudden stab of discomfort, which only served to send a much sharper and far more enduring pain radiating up the back of my neck. It was at right about this moment I noticed I was leaning to my left with the side of my face pressed against something hard, effectively cocking my head at an uncomfortable angle. While this realization certainly explained the pain in my neck, it also seemed to have awakened a sore throb in my cheek.
My brain mulled all of this over for a fraction of a second then decided it had best pay attention to the voices now that pain was involved. Against my better judgment I sat up straighter and turned toward their sources.
“Huh?” I grunted as my eyes fluttered open.
The blurred countenance of a blue uniformed flight attendant shot me what appeared to be a quick smile and said, “Sir, I need for you to raise your seatback, please.”
“What? Oh, umm, yeah… Sorry,” I muttered the words through a haze of half sleep as I fumbled with the button on the side of the armrest and slowly leaned my creaking body forward.
I suspect the flight attendant didn’t even hear my answer. By the time I looked up again, she was on the move and already several rows away as she continued toward the front of the MD-80’s passenger cabin. At least that was my assumption-all I knew for certain was that a fuzzy blue shape was rapidly shrinking in the near distance, and it was no longer in my face.
I took in a deep breath and huffed out a heavy sigh. The fresh pains were starting to subside, but unfortunately, I was now becoming reacquainted with the fact that my skull was locked in a dire battle with a headache of questionable origin. I certainly could have done without the pounding inside my head, but I had been here countless times before. I knew simply by the way it felt that the pain had just about everything to do with the paranormal as opposed to earthly causes; and that was something painkillers couldn’t usually make go away, no matter how much I abused them.
I reached up to rub my eyes and discovered my glasses were missing. I groped at my shirt pocket and found nothing, so I muttered a quick “dammit” under my breath and started feeling around in my lap for the fugitive spectacles.
“Here,” Constance Mandalay said, nudging me once again as she held the bi-focals out to me. “I rescued them earlier before they ended up on the floor.”
The petite FBI special agent was parked in the aisle seat next to me. She was my official escort for this emergency trip to FMC Carswell, the Federal Medical Center in Texas that housed female prison inmates in need of treatment, both mental and physical. The individual I was on my way to interview definitely fell into the mental category.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, taking the glasses from her and sliding them onto my face. “Anyone ever tell you that you have sharp elbows?”
“It’s been mentioned a time or two.”
Why I needed an escort was still a mystery to me, but I wasn’t about to complain. Fortunately for me, Constance was more than just a federal officer doing a job. She had been a good friend for several years as well, which made traveling with her far less stressful than it would have been with a stranger.
“Feeling better now?” she asked, augmenting the question with a quick smile.
“I’m not sure just yet,” I replied, rolling my shoulders and turning my head slowly side to side. “But I think the crick in my neck is saying no.”
“I’m not surprised. You really didn’t move the whole time you were asleep.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t out all that long was I?”
“Well over an hour,” she replied. “Pushing two, actually. We’re getting ready to land.”
“We are? Already?”
“Did you think the flight attendant was just picking on you or something?”
“Honestly, it didn’t even register. Guess I was still half asleep,” I told her with a shake of my head, then winced and mumbled, “Almost two hours? Damn…”
“Almost. You were out cold before the landing gear was even all the way up; and we’ve been circling for a bit because of a delay on the ground.”
“Man…” I sighed heavily once again. “Sorry about that. Guess I wasn’t very good company.”
“At least you didn’t snore.” She chuckled lightly then added, “Not too much, anyway.”
“Great…” I mumbled. “Well, in my defense, I didn’t really get any sleep last night.”
She nodded. “I figured as much, which is exactly why I didn’t wake you. Besides, it’s okay. It gave me a chance to finish a trashy romance novel I’ve been reading.”
“Well, at least you had…” I started then paused and scrunched my brow at her. “Wait… Did you just say you’ve been reading a romance novel?”
“No. I said I’ve been reading a trashy romance novel. There is a difference believe it or not.”
“I hate to tell you this, but adding that particular adjective just makes the sentence even more unbelievable.”
She shrugged. “We all have our guilty pleasures.”
“Yeah…” I agreed. “I just figured yours would be Guns and Ammo, or something of that sort.”
“That sounds like something Storm would say,” she countered.
The Storm to whom she referred was Detective Benjamin Storm of the Saint Louis police department’s homicide division. Ben and I had been friends for more years than I wanted to remember. He had even been best man when Felicity and I married.
Where he and Constance were concerned, however, the road to friendship had been paved with potholes and speed bumps. In fact, they clashed worse than plaids and stripes from the moment they met. To this day, the image of the petite federal agent going toe to toe with the six-foot-six Native American cop over a jurisdictional issue was not one I would ever forget-nor would most anyone else who had been there to witness it. Of course, with volatile chemistry like that to drive them, it was almost inevitable that they would end up in an on-again, off- again romance. Near as I could tell, as of last night they were still entrenched in an on phase of that seesawing dynamic.
“I guess after all this time he’s rubbing off on me,” I offered.
She shot me a quick grin then quipped, “I’m sorry to hear that. One of him is more than enough for society to deal with.”
The moan of active hydraulic pumps rumbled through the cabin, followed by the clunk of the landing gear locking into place. I turned to gaze out the window as the landscape below steadily grew from a miniature diorama to a nearly life-sized sprawl of buildings and streets. Moments later the passenger jet thumped and shuddered as the pilot dropped it onto the end of a runway at DFW and began braking.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Dallas Fort Worth International Airport, where the local time is 9:42 a.m.” A flight attendant’s voice issued from the overhead speakers as soon as the airplane had slowed. She was barely audible over the warbling turbines as we taxied toward our arrival gate. “The current temperature is seventy-eight degrees under clear skies with a slight breeze from the southwest. You may now use cell phones, however all other portable electronic devices must remain off and stowed. On behalf of your Saint Louis based flight crew, I would like…”
“So, what’s the plan?” I asked Constance, ignoring the rest of the attendant’s corporate spiel.
“Doctor Jante said someone from Carswell would be meeting us at baggage claim,” she replied.
“So they’ll be taking us to the hotel, and we don’t need to rent a car or anything?”
She shook her head. “We shouldn’t need a rental. But considering the rush Jante put on this for the flight and everything else, my guess is we’re heading straight to the facility, not the hotel.”
“No rest for the Witch, eh?” I grunted.
“My guess would be no,” she replied. “But if it’s any consolation I’ll make sure the bureau buys you a nice dinner this evening.”
“I’ll take you up on that if I’m not already asleep,” I replied as I dug out my cell phone and thumbed it on. “I
