I tipped a bottle of bright blue sport drink toward the ceiling and drained the remains in a trio of gulps. I was unimpressed by the taste, but then, they were Felicity’s choice, not mine. Normally I wouldn’t go near them except to move them aside when reaching for something else, but my current state demanded more than plain water.

“Do you want another one, Rowan?” Constance asked as I sat the plastic bottle on the table in front of me and sighed.

I picked the bottle back up and rolled it in my hand until I could inspect the label. Its claimed flavor was ‘Berry’. No indication as to what kind of berry except for maybe the color. I hated to tell them this, but it certainly didn’t taste like blueberries to me. In fact, it came across more like weak lemonade with a tablespoon of salt and a pinch of sugar added.

“Not really,” I finally said. “But I guess I should anyway. It probably couldn’t hurt.”

“What about you, Felicity?” she asked as she tugged open the refrigerator.

“Not yet,” my wife answered, her voice heavily underscored by a Celtic lilt. “Thank you.”

“This is fucked up,” Ben suddenly blurted.

He had been standing here in the kitchen, observing us in complete silence for the past several minutes. At the moment, his hand was unconsciously working at the muscles on the back of his neck.

“This just ain’t even right,” he added after a moment.

“You’re acting like this is all new to you,” I told him.

I knew my voice sounded flat, matter of fact, and emotionless, but it was only because of the exhaustion. It seemed like a struggle even to talk.

“Jeezus, white man!” he exclaimed. “I’ve seen you two do weird shit before, but this was way outta the freakin’ box!”

“What, the stigmata?” I asked, referring to the wounds that had marred Felicity’s skin but were now all but completely gone. The only evidence of them having existed being tiny, pinkish scars which were themselves fading away almost as quickly as they had appeared.

“That’s a start,” he replied.

“You’ve seen that happen to me before,” I told him, languidly holding out my arm. “Remember the Monogram of Christ?”

I referred to a series of puckered wounds that had appeared on my body, each in the shape of the aforementioned symbol and each in conjunction with the death of one of Eldon Porter’s victims. They had healed themselves into non-existence just as Felicity’s were now doing, but their memory was fresh. Especially after what had been witnessed here tonight.

“Yeah.” He nodded vigorously. “And that freaked me out then too.”

While I had my arm extended, Constance stepped past Ben and filled my hand with a fresh bottle of the sports drink.

“Thanks,” I acknowledged, then turned back to my friend and shrugged. “Sorry about that.” My apology was more out of reflex than any kind of heartfelt remorse.

“Well, what I’m really talkin’ about is the friggin’ la-la shit flyin’ around here.” He thrust the index finger of his free hand at himself. “I mean I felt it. Me.”

“And your point?” Felicity asked, her voice a tired mumble. She was resting her head on the table, using her crossed arms as a makeshift pillow, with her face pointed toward the back wall. She didn’t even bother to lift her head when she spoke.

“Well excuse me, ‘Samantha’,” he retorted, making a sarcastic reference to the old TV sitcom. “Maybe this is old hat for you two, but I damn near got electrocuted by your happy asses.”

“Do I look…” Felicity began to reply, but the rest of the sentence was an unintelligible murmur.

“What?” Ben asked.

Felicity turned her head and pressed the other cheek against her arms so that she was facing him even though her eyes remained shut. Then, still with a tired mumble, she repeated, “Samantha was blonde. Do I look blonde to you?”

“Dammit, Felicity!” he barked. “This is serious!”

“I think everybody is aware of that,” Constance interjected. “But just look at them, Ben. They’re both exhausted. You aren’t going to get anywhere by arguing.”

My friend ignored her observation and pressed on, aiming his query at Felicity. “So after all this shit, do you at least remember somethin’?”

“Aye, I remember hurting,” she muttered. “I remember that somebody hurt me.”

“That doesn’t get us anywhere now does it?” he snapped.

“Give her a break, Ben,” I made a tired appeal.

“Hey,” he replied in an annoyed tone. “You’re the one that absolutely had to do this right now, so don’t come down on me for askin’ a question.”

“I’m not coming down on you, Ben,” I replied. “I’m just saying lighten up a bit.”

“I’m just doin’ my job.”

“Back off, Storm,” Constance told him. “Give her some time.”

Ben shifted a hard glare quickly onto Agent Mandalay and then snarled, “Yeah, well maybe I just haven’t got as much patience as you.”

“Chill out, Storm,” she returned, shooting him a puzzled expression. “This hasn’t been easy on any of us, least of all Felicity and Rowan.”

Ben started to reply, a wave of anger flooding his features as his lips parted but then caught himself before any words escaped. He closed his mouth and stood staring at her as he worked his jaw, then without saying anything simply stalked through the kitchen and out the back door, giving it a healthy slam in his wake.

“Damn,” Mandalay muttered as she looked after him and then turned to me. “You say you know what’s eating him?”

“Yeah,” I acknowledged. “But I can’t talk about it, Constance.”

“Well he needs to get a handle on it,” she said. “He’s not stable.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Just an FYI,” she continued. “Jurisdiction for this case is technically still in the hands of the local authorities, and once we prove that this is a murder, the lines are going to get blurred even more. The Bureau will stay involved because of the circumstances, but Albright is going to step up, I’ll guarantee it. When she does, I’m not going to be able to cover for him anymore.”

“Do you think she’ll kick him off the Major Case Squad again?”

“Maybe not. It really depends on the need for manpower, would be my guess. With the victim being the Mayor’s daughter, you can bet everyone is going to be pulling duty. A lot of it is going to depend on him.”

“Maybe he can redeem himself in her eyes then. He’s a good cop, Constance.”

“I know he is, Rowan. That’s the problem. That’s what I mean when I say it depends on him. If he keeps acting like he did just now and doesn’t get some help, getting kicked off the MCS will be the least of his worries because he’ll probably lose his badge altogether.”

That was something I already suspected but really didn’t want to hear.

“Helen is still out there, isn’t she?” I asked after a moment.

“Yeah,” she replied, craning her neck to peer out through the atrium. “I think she’s been through about half a pack by now.”

“Let him talk with her. I think she knows what’s going on with him. She’ll get him back on track.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure, yeah.”

“I hope you’re right, Rowan.”

“Me too.”

*****

“Listen, Row…” Ben began and then paused.

The forlorn chirp of a single cricket sounded in the wake of his abandoned sentence and then fell silent as well. We were standing at the railing of the deck, looking out into the darkened backyard. The dogs were snuffling

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