She knew about the calls, as did Ben. They’d both tried to help me trace them, but all they were ever able to establish was that they had come from random payphones, widely scattered through the metropolitan area.
“Yeah.” I nodded.
The phone rang again, and out of reflex I reached out to pick it up then caught myself and hesitated long enough to glance at the caller ID. This time the dashes were replaced by a number I easily recognized, so I lifted the receiver and placed it to my ear once again.
“Hello.”
“What’re ya’ doin’?” Ben’s gruff voice issued from the speaker almost as a demand, sans any sort of pleasantries.
“Talking to Constance,” I replied.
Mandalay looked at me and mouthed, “Is that Storm.”
I simply nodded in reply.
“You didn’t call her ‘bout my old man, did’ja?” my friend asked, both suspicion and anger welling in his voice.
“No. Actually she just showed up at the door, and she’s sitting in my kitchen right now.”
“She’s what? She’s here? She’s in Saint Louis?”
“Long story, but yeah, she and Agent Drew are here,” I replied.
“You got two Feebs at your house?” he half asked, a note of understanding seeping into his voice as he picked up the hint.
“Yes.”
“They pumpin’ you for info on the Wentworth case?”
“Something like that.”
“Jeezus… They would pull a stunt like that… Shit… Can’t blame ‘em I don’t guess. What with fuckin’ Albright closin’ the door in their face,” he muttered. “I told ya’, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Fuck me,” he grumbled.
There was a lull at the other end, and since he had opened the door, I nudged the conversation through it. “So, how is your father anyway?”
“Dead.”
“I’m sorry, Ben.”
“Don’t be,” he huffed. “Best fuckin’ thing for both of us.”
“How’s Helen?”
“Handlin’ it. I promised I’d help ‘er with the arrangements later, but listen, that’s not why I called. You and Firehair free for a bit?”
“Actually, Felicity has a lunch meeting with a client.”
“Can she get out of it?”
“I don’t know but probably not. She’s already had to reschedule.”
My wife poked her head around the corner and shook her head vigorously, indicating the negative. Apparently, my reply had been enough to let her guess what he had asked.
“I just got a confirmation on that no,” I told him.
“Okay, so what about you?”
“Well, I haven’t even had a shower yet.”
“You can do that later. I need ya’ ta’ look at somethin’ right now.”
“What about Constance and Agent Drew?”
“Bring ‘em with ya’.”
“Bring them with me where?”
“The Gateway Motel out on Lindbergh.”
“What’s going on, Ben?”
“That’s what I want you ta’ tell me.”
Ben was adamant that we needed to leave immediately if not sooner, but after hanging up I had still taken enough time for an encounter with my toothbrush and a comb. Then I changed into something a bit more suitable for going out in public. I had done my best to make myself as presentable as I possibly could, but I’d still felt like I desperately needed to run myself through the shower.
The image that had peered back at me from the mirror had a thick crop of stubble shadowing his face, and evidence of the dull ache in his head was obvious through the creases in his otherwise flat expression. His goatee could have used a trim and even seemed to be revealing to the world a fresh spate of grey.
This definitely hadn’t been the man whom I’d seen reflected here only a few days before, but there he was, and he was looking pretty ragged. As much as I wanted to do so, however, there was no denying that we were one and the same. And, to be honest, I really shouldn’t have been surprised because the reflection simply looked exactly like I felt. Unfortunately for me, it seemed the physical tolls being exacted by my connection with the other side were hastening. Or, perhaps it was the two year reprieve from such things that was now making it all appear just that much more drastic.
Either way, I couldn’t say that I really cared for the results.
Felicity had headed out for her lunch meeting at the same time I was leaving with Constance and Agent Drew. She wasn’t expecting to be free for at least two hours, maybe longer, but she took down the address of the motel just in case. In case of what, however, we had no idea.
Whatever his reasons, Ben hadn’t been forthcoming about why he wanted us there. All he would say was that we should check in with the first uniform we saw carrying a clipboard and ask for him. That, in and of itself, was enough to tell me that we were talking about a crime scene, but that much I had already suspected. Telling me to bring Mandalay and Drew said in its own way that this was probably something connected with Wentworth’s murder, or at least that was the conclusion I reached. Therefore, having read between the lines, I wasn’t a bit surprised by the bustle of activity greeting us when we arrived at the Gateway Motel.
I was riding with the two FBI agents for no other reason than convenience, and no sooner had we pulled onto the lot than they were flashing their ID’s. We were directed to a parking space and told that someone would go inform Ben of our arrival. Thus far, I hadn’t needed to utter a word. I can’t say that I minded that a bit, however, because very suddenly I wasn’t feeling well at all.
By the time we climbed out of the car, my headache was already ramping up uncontrollably, and I felt a violent churn in my stomach. My back was beginning to ache, alternating between severe cramps deep within my muscles and sudden stinging sensations across my skin. For the first time in a very long while, I found myself struggling to ground and center simply to keep from slipping under in an ethereal whirlpool.
I knew that I had never completely lost connection with the other side, but for two years now, it had been just so much background noise. Living with it had been akin to the tinny speaker of a cheap television with the volume turned down almost as far as it would go. It had become nothing more than an almost ignorable noise with only an occasionally recognizable string of verbiage.
In an instant, however, the volume was turned to full. My shunt through the veil was open wide, and the quiet static was now a deafening roar filling my ears to drown out the physical world around me.
The ethereal drought was over. What had only been whispers of the dead for so very long were now the anguished screams of tortured souls welcoming me back to my own personal hell.
I just wish they’d given me a gentler homecoming than the sight of the pavement rushing up toward my face.
CHAPTER 18:
I think I might have called out to Constance, but I couldn’t be sure. All I knew was that I stumbled forward as
