“Yeah, maybe,” I replied as I stepped across the room. Leaning in I squinted to read the block letters on the liquid crystal display of the caller ID box. What I saw actually made my heart skip upward into my throat.
I snatched the handset from the base and fought to keep the panic out of my voice as I spoke. “Helen? What’s wrong?”
“Rowan,” Ben’s sister replied, her own voice tense. “Is Benjamin with you? It is very important.”
CHAPTER 14:
My friend’s older sister was the last person I would have expected to call at this hour of the night, and the very fact that she was on the other end of the line told me something was seriously amiss. The addition of the semi-controlled tension in her voice simply bolstered that feeling even more.
I’d never known Helen to be overly emotional. In fact, she was just the opposite. Not frigid by any means but calm and even tempered to a fault. She was, after all, not only a psychiatrist but also a trained and practicing psychotherapist, and she definitely had the temperament for it.
To be honest, it was because of this that we had first met. She had seen me through some very hard times dealing with what could only be termed as post-traumatic stress after nearly being killed by a raging sociopath, not to mention helping me come to terms with my curse of hearing the dead speak. She had even been there for Felicity in the wake of her own brush with those vile stresses. However, while our initial contact had been on a professional level, we had become good friends over the past few years, and I knew her current demeanor was out of character.
“We haven’t seen him since early this afternoon,” I said. “Helen, what’s wrong?”
Her reply followed a perceptible hesitation. “I’m at the hospital now, and I am afraid that our father has taken a turn for the worse.”
“Your who?” I blurted without thinking.
“Our father, Rowan,” she replied, emotion cracking in her voice. “He’s in the hospital. Did Benjamin not tell you?”
“No, he didn’t.”
What I couldn’t bring myself to voice was the fact that I was under the impression that their father had died long ago. At least, that is what Ben had led me to believe ever since I’d known him.
“I can’t say that I am surprised,” she sighed.
“You said he took a turn for the worse. Is it very serious?” I asked. I suspected that I already knew the answer but didn’t want to make blind assumptions.
She hesitated again. The pause gave me an instant mental picture of her weighing her words before speaking, just as I’d seen her do many times before. When she finally spoke, the matter of fact delivery was a weak barrier against the flood of emotion she was obviously trying to contain.
“He is dying, Rowan.”
Out of reflex I said, “Helen… I’m so sorry…”
“Thank you,” she replied.
Felicity was out of her seat now and was giving me a questioning stare as she touched my arm. I cupped my hand over the mouthpiece and whispered, “It’s Helen Storm looking for Ben. Their father is dying.”
“Their father?” she asked quietly, just as puzzled as I. “You mean Ben’s father? But, I thought…”
I gave her a quick shrug and shake of my head then returned my attention to the phone. “Helen, is there anything we can do?”
“No,” she returned. “No, but thank you. It is simply his time. It is just that… Just that Benjamin needs to be here.”
“I understand,” I told her. “Like I said though, the last time we saw him was early this afternoon here at the house. He got paged, made a call, and then left in a bit of a rush.”
“That would have been me,” she replied. “I paged him, and he did come to the hospital this afternoon, but I am afraid it didn’t go very well.”
I didn’t ask what she meant. I was capable of doing the math, and it really wasn’t all that hard to solve this particular equation with the values I already had in hand.
“So, do you think they can…” I started a question then thought better of it and stopped myself short.
“Reconcile?” she finished for me. “I don’t know, but I must try.”
“I understand,” I said. “So, this is probably a stupid question, but I take it you’ve tried his cell and his pager again?”
“Yes. Several times. I have called his office, his apartment, and even Allison,” she told me, referring to her former sister-in-law. “I’m afraid I don’t have Constance’s number, but I was hoping you might.”
“He won’t be there,” I told her. “She’s out of town right now.”
Helen’s list was the same one I had tried earlier, with the exception of Allison. However, hearing it recited by her made me realize that it was incomplete, especially now that I knew my friend was most likely looking for a place to hide.
“Can I reach you on your cell phone?” I asked suddenly.
“Yes,” she replied. “Why?”
“I’m not sure, but I think I might have an idea where he is,” I told her.
“Where?”
“The Third Place.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a cigar shop downtown,” I explained. “If he was in a foul mood when he left the hospital, I’m willing to bet that’s where he went to cool off.”
“But, would they not be closed at this hour?” Helen objected.
“To the public, yes,” I agreed. “But, he knows the owner.”
“Can we call there?” she pressed. “What is the number?”
“I doubt if anyone will answer the phone this time of night,” I replied. “I’ll try, but if I can’t get hold of anyone, I’ll go down there.”
“I’m sorry, what?…” Helen’s voice came across the line a hollow echo, as if the phone were pulled away from her mouth. I could hear several other muffled voices in the background along with nondescript commotion. Her voice grew louder as she suddenly came back on the line and said, “Hold on for a moment, Rowan…”
“Sure,” I replied, not certain if she was even there to hear me.
I listened to the frantic noises going on in the hospital room at the other end of the line. Whatever was happening, it didn’t sound any better than it felt. I let out a heavy breath and forced myself to ground and center. As much as I empathized with Helen, I had more than enough on my plate at the moment and that included helping her to find Ben. The last thing I needed to do right now was to tap into her plummeting emotions because if I did, I was going to be useless to her.
Felicity had disappeared almost as soon as I had finished uttering the name of the cigar shop Ben and I frequented, and she now returned to the kitchen, dressed in denim jeans and a sweatshirt. Stepping over to the table, she deftly tossed back the remains of her rum then began gathering her hair and twisting it into a loose Gibson girl.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Going with you, then,” she replied without missing a beat. “What does it look like?”
“I might just be making a phone call,” I told her.
“You won’t get an answer. You know that.”
“Yeah, well it would probably be a good idea for you to come along anyway, so I can keep an eye on you,” I returned, glancing over at the bottle of liquor, then added quickly, “But, the booze stays here.”
“Aye, I’ll leave the bottle,” she quipped. “I’ll just fill a flask.”
I didn’t get a chance to retort as Helen suddenly came back on the line. “Rowan?”
“Yes, Helen, I’m here.”
“Please hurry,” she said, her voice revealing a new level of distress well beyond what it had earlier contained.
