CHAPTER 38:
“What the fuck?!” Ben exclaimed, as he automatically filled his hand with the Beretta that rode in his ever- present shoulder rig. “I got the stairs!”
“Side door!” Constance immediately called out. Her own hand was already wrapped around her Sig Sauer, and she immediately turned back toward the front door and darted for it.
The side entrance, leading down into our basement, was the only door anyone could have entered without coming past us. It had a reinforced deadbolt and a handset lock, not to mention that it was monitored by the home security system. The only time it was ever unlocked was when we were moving things in and out of the lower level of the house, so I had no idea how anyone could have come through it, but it was literally the only way to get in relatively undetected. To my knowledge, the entrance hadn’t been used for quite awhile, unless Felicity had done so, and I simply wasn’t aware of it.
My friend was already at the mouth of the hallway, as Constance bounded down the front steps and hooked to the left, her cell phone in her free hand. I was directly behind him, and I yelled out to my wife, “Felicity?”
“Rowan… Help me!” she cried. “She’s here…”
I quickly made a move to step around Ben to the partially open basement door. His hand shot out and slammed into my chest, knocking me back against the wall with a heavy thud.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” I demanded.
“You stay right here,” he growled back at me.
“Dammit, Ben…”
“I said, stay right here! Let us do our jobs!” he barked, then cast his voice toward the opening as he called out, “Devereaux?”
“Rowan…” my wife whimpered. “Help me…”
Before I had a chance to object again, the front door swung open, and one of the FBI agents who had been canvassing the nearby side street rushed in, his sidearm at the ready. Ben gave him a quick glance, pointed at me then stabbed a finger down the hallway. Without a word, the agent continued past him, roughly taking me by the shoulder and pushing me farther back into the corridor.
From the basement, I heard my wife’s sobbing voice call out once more, “Rowan… Please…”
“Get down there before she kills her!” I screamed as I tried to turn, but the federal agent caught the move and pushed me hard toward the end of the hall.
“Sir,” he said. “You need to stay out of the way. Let us handle this.”
“You might have ta’ cuff ‘im,” Ben told him. His voice was cold, and I knew he wasn’t even hinting at a joke.
“Dammit, Ben!” I exclaimed. “The bitch has my wife down there!”
“Rowan!” my friend snapped. “This is what we do! Now stay out of the way!”
I looked back over my shoulder, anger and fear seething inside me. My face was growing hot as I flushed with the swirling emotions. All I could think about was getting to Felicity before Annalise could do anything at all to harm her.
“Annalise Devereaux!” Ben called out again. “This is Detective Storm with the Saint Louis Police. I’m coming down.”
He was answered by an amused chuckle and the words “Send Rowan, little man.”
A second later, struggling through choked sobs, I heard Felicity moan, “ Caorthann…”
A cell phone on the agent’s belt chirped with a two-way alert tone, and it was followed by Constance’s voice.
“Cobb… Reynolds and I are on the side door. It appears to be locked,” she said. “Parker and the locals are coming now. They’ll cover the front and back.”
He snatched the phone from his belt, thumbed a button and replied, “Got it. Storm and I are at the top of the stairs. We’re having an issue with the spouse.”
The device cricket-chirped again, and Constance replied with no hesitation in her voice whatsoever, “Handcuff him.”
What had previously been a threat now became a direct order. Cobb holstered his weapon and quickly slipped out a pair of restraints then brought one metal circlet down against my wrist with a hard snap. With a practiced squeeze, he ratcheted it tight.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I shouted, trying to twist away.
He wasn’t quite Ben’s stature, but he easily had an inch or two on me, not to mention his training. Before I knew it, he had whipped me back around and shoved me into the bathroom at the end of the hall. I bounced against the wall, but before I could turn back around, he had twisted my free arm behind my back and slapped the other cuff onto it.
“I need you to sit down on the floor, Mister Gant,” he ordered. “Now.”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” I snarled.
“It’s for your own safety as well as your wife’s, sir. Now, please sit down or I’ll sit you down.”
I was left with little choice other than to comply. I leaned back against the wall and slid downward until I was seated on the tile floor but not without appealing, “Goddammit, Ben, get down there and help Felicity!”
Cobb left me sitting and headed back to the basement door. Drawing his weapon, he stood to the backside of the barrier and gave Ben a nod. My friend carefully nudged the door the rest of the way open, staying well to the living room side of the entranceway.
“See anything,” Ben asked.
Agent Cobb carefully shifted to the right, his pistol stiff armed before him and pointing down the stairwell. After a moment, he slid back and shook his head as he said, “Clear.”
My friend mimicked the motion from his side, checking the blind spots the FBI agent wouldn’t have been able to see from his angle.
“Clear,” he told him then called out, “Felicity?”
I listened intently but heard only my wife sobbing. As painful as the sound was, at least it meant she was still alive.
“Devereaux?” Ben shouted after a few seconds.
We waited, but there was still no verbal answer.
“Annalise Devereaux?” he called again.
“No,” a haunting voice carried up the stairs. “Not Annalise.”
“Okay,” he replied. “So, what do I call you?”
We heard the laugh again. In its wake, the Southern-accented voice said, “You may call me, Mistress, little man.”
“Yeah, right, like that’s gonna happen,” my friend muttered, so low even I almost didn’t hear him. Then, he upped the volume and called out, “Look, no one needs to get hurt here.”
“Why don’t you come down,” the voice returned. “I won’t hurt you… Much.”
“How is Miz O’Brien?” he asked, ignoring the taunt.
“Oh, she’s simply lovely,” the voice replied.
“Can I speak with her?”
“I don’t know, little man, can you?” she laughed. “Try again.”
“What the fuck,” Ben whispered.
“I’m not sure, but I think she’s correcting your English,” Cobb returned in a low voice.
“Jeezus, so she’s a smart ass too…”
The voice echoed up the stairs again. “Come on, little man. Say, ‘Please Mistress, may I speak to Felicity?’”
“I’m not gonna play games with you, Devereaux. Let me talk to her.”
A scant few seconds passed, then my wife’s sobbing voice floated up to our ears. “Ben? Is Rowan with you?”
“He’s right here, Felicity,” Ben replied. “Everything is gonna be fine. You just hang in there, okay?…”
“Rowan!” she appealed, her voice strained but stronger than before. “She’s back! Help me!”
“Ben! Help her!” I demanded, rolling sideways against the wall and struggling onto my knees. I shuffled into
