let anything roust her from the bed until she was good and ready. As far as I was concerned, that was fine. She needed the rest. I could sleep when this was all over.
I nodded and stepped out into the hallway, gently closing the door behind me. Then I followed Constance into the living room where Ben was perched on the arm of the sofa looking only slightly more awake than me.
“Coffee’s already makin’,” he grunted.
“If she calls, we already know she is going to want to speak to Felicity,” Constance offered. “But, I’m going to take it and see if I can stall.”
I shook my head. “Why don’t you let me take it instead?”
“Why?”
“She’ll have more to say to me than to you. Maybe I can keep her occupied longer.”
“That might not be the best idea, Rowan. You’re too close to this.”
“Of course I am. She wants to kill my wife.”
“Exactly my point.”
“Look, Constance, signal tracking is only going to get you a general location. You know that. If I can keep her on the call, you’ll have a better chance of pinpointing where she is.”
“Yes, I do know that, but we have other ways to do this.”
“No, you don’t. If her phone had a GPS module, you would have already used it.”
“There are still other ways.”
“Okay. What are they?”
As if on cue, the muffled trill of the ringer sounded in the basement, immediately followed by the handset on the table chirping. Constance and I both started toward the dining room at the same instant. Since I was already a step closer, I reached the phone first, but as my hand closed around it, Constance took hold of my wrist.
“Relax,” I said, as I remembered the conversation we’d had only a few hours before. “I can’t kill her over the phone.”
“He’s right,” Ben offered. “Better let ‘im take it.”
“All right,” she said, letting go of my wrist. “Just stay calm and keep her talking as long as you can.”
“That’s the plan,” I replied with a quick nod then snatched up the handset, punched the talk button, and began speaking. “Emerald Photographic Services, may I help you?”
A familiar Southern-accented voice rolled out of the earpiece. “Put the chienne on.”
“Good morning, Annalise,” I replied coolly.
She repeated the demand. “Put her on.”
“I assume you mean my wife. I’m afraid she’s still asleep.”
She didn’t reply, but I could still hear her breathing at the other end. I waited for the telltale click of the line going dead, but after several seconds, she finally spoke.
“Rowan,” she stated in a cold, matter-of-fact tone. “I thought I recognized the voice.”
“Yes,” I replied.
“How is your arm, little man?”
I unconsciously glanced at the mostly healed bite wound she had inflicted. The stitches had already been removed, and the bruising was pretty much a memory at this point. Still, there was a very pronounced jagged line that was going to leave an interesting scar.
“Fine,” I said. “How about yours?”
“You bruised me,” she replied. “I really didn’t appreciate that.”
“Well, if I were you I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for an apology.”
“Va te faire, vous d’une chienne! ”
“I hate to tell you this, but I didn’t understand that the last time you said it, and I still don’t. I’m afraid you’re going to have to speak English, otherwise this conversation is going to be a bit one-sided.”
“I said, you fucking son of a bitch.”
“See, now that I understand.”
As I spoke I glanced over in the direction of the living room. Constance was on her cell phone once again, but she didn’t look particularly pleased. Ben was keeping his eyes focused on me. I’m not really sure what they were afraid I might do, but obviously they weren’t leaving anything to chance.
“Your wife is taking something that doesn’t belong to her,” Annalise said.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I replied. “She’s not taking a thing.”
“Miranda is giving it to her.”
“Wrong again. Miranda isn’t welcome here.”
“No, it’s you who is wrong. You can’t stop Miranda. She does as she pleases.”
“She does as she pleases, or you do as she pleases?”
I waited for an answer but received none. I knew from her extended silence that I had struck a nerve.
“That’s why she brought you back to Saint Louis, isn’t it?” I continued. “Because I took Felicity away from her.”
“Miranda wants her,” Annalise finally said.
“Yes, I got that impression,” I replied. “But, you can tell her for me that isn’t going to happen. She can’t have her.”
“She already does.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re wrong about that.”
“I’m not. You just don’t know it yet.”
“What did you do, Annalise? Does it have something to do with the cloves and the candle at Lewis’s apartment?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“I know better than that, Annalise. I visited the scene.”
“I didn’t do anything,” she repeated. “Ask Miranda.”
The answer made my skin prickle as a chill ran through me. There was a peculiar honesty in her voice that I couldn’t help but believe. This meant that she hadn’t worked the magick, Miranda had. She simply used Annalise as a conduit for it, just as she did for everything else. What new dimension this might add to the spellwork, I couldn’t begin to fathom. And, I’m not sure I wanted to.
I forced myself to say, “You’ll have to put her on the phone before I can do that.”
Her answer was exactly what I didn’t want to hear.
“I already told you, she’s not with me anymore. She’s with the chienne. Go wake her up and ask her.”
I hesitated as the fear continued to pool in my stomach. Finally, I asked, “How do you know that?”
“Because, she isn’t with me.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s with Felicity.”
“Yes it does. That’s why I have to make her go away.”
“Miranda?”
“No. Her.”
“Felicity. And, by ‘go away’ I assume you mean you want to kill her.”
“She has to go away.”
“And, if you kill her, do you really think Miranda is going to come back to you?”
She whispered, “It belongs to me. She promised.”
I could hear an insistent fragility creeping into her voice, and at the same time I could feel a sense of loss mixing with my own cold fear. It was becoming obvious that Annalise was psychologically damaged in more ways than I could begin to imagine. The problem was, I didn’t know if that fact was going to make her easier to deal with, or simply just that much more dangerous.
I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to be able to keep Annalise on the phone with this verbal sparring. I already had the feeling I was about to lose her at any moment. I looked up at Constance who shook her head and frowned, which told me the FBI and police weren’t having any better luck than me.
With a mental sigh I decided to press on. “So, what do we do now? You know I won’t let you kill my wife.”
“Do you really think Miranda will let you live?” she asked, her moment of frailty completely gone.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
