door. “Forget about it, Row,” he barked back over his shoulder. “This is my job, not yours. Not anymore. You’re fired.”
Adding to the ever-increasing tumult, the nurse announced, “Mister Gant, it’s time for your visitors to go.”
“No,” I objected.
“Yes,” she replied.
“She is correct, Rowan. I think it would be for the best,” Helen told me, shifting around to unlock the brake on the wheelchair.
“Wait!” I yelped.
Continuing to hold tight to Felicity’s hand, I gritted my teeth and twisted my body so that I could roll closer to her.
“Mister Gant, what are you doing?!” the nurse protested, taking hold of my shoulder as I almost rolled myself out of the bed.
Leaning off the side and bringing my face as close to my wife’s as possible, I struggled out a whisper between labored breaths, “You hang on, Felicity… You hear me? Hang on… I’m coming to get you soon… I promise…”
CHAPTER 29
Panic spreads through my chest.
Dark water rushes up toward me…
Or am I rushing down toward it?
The muddy surface roils with tight eddies that appear then disappear.
The pain rips into me as I strike.
The water is hard like brick.
I am being pulled under.
The current has me now.
I need to breathe.
I gasp.
The silty water makes me gag as it rushes down my throat…
And then into my lungs…
I feel heavy now…
I’m sinking…
Darkness is coming…
I felt myself tense and then suddenly gasp. My eyes were still closed, but the narcotic haze that was ruling my existence off and on as of late finally seemed to be clearing once again. Images still played inside my boggy skull, and I knew immediately that I had dreamt of New Orleans cemeteries and drowning once again. I had expected it, but as usual that didn’t keep me from being startled awake by the inevitable ending. I still wasn’t quite sure why my subconscious had picked this particular nightmare to dwell upon. I assumed it had something to do with how Miranda had originally died back in 1851, but if there was some deeper meaning behind it, my rational brain wasn’t getting the message. One thing I did know for a fact, however, was that the repetitious aberration was starting to get very old, and I was ready for it to go away.
As the haze continued to dissipate, I found my voice and mumbled, “You in here, Ben?”
Prior to the onset of the nightmare, I had been laying here adrift in a comfortable drowse, existing somewhere between wake and sleep. I had been able to hear everything around me with an unfettered clarity- magazine pages as they turned, footsteps that sounded lightly against the floor, and even the soft rush of air as the door opened and closed. But, none of it had truly made any sense in the fuzzy darkness that surrounded my world. It was all just an underlying soundtrack to which I’d grudgingly become accustomed. Apparently, so accustomed that it had lulled me back into a deepening sleep, where a darkened dream lay in wait.
Flowing into the quiet lull behind my voice, a new jumble of noises tapped out a rhythm against my eardrums. The medley began with the light rustle of fabric against fabric and the dull slap of a magazine carefully dropped against a flat surface, both happening in the near distance. Those sounds were soon followed by footsteps coming toward me and then quiet breathing close by.
Although my olfactory sense had been assaulted by the antiseptic smells of the hospital, which were less than pleasant in and of themselves, the smell of muddy water currently lingered in my nose-an illusion carried with me into wakefulness after each episode. Fortunately however, it appeared that a much more pleasant scent was now pushing it out as I picked up the barest hint of sweet vanilla.
“It’s Constance, Row,” Agent Mandalay told me. “You’re on my watch now.”
“Constance…” I began slowly. “If you’re here…”
Apparently she anticipated my question and rushed to reassure me. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Agent Parker is with Felicity. As of this afternoon, the bureau officially took over from the local law enforcement. Until this is all done, you’re both under federal protection, twenty-four-seven.”
I finally allowed my eyes to flutter open and then rolled my head in the direction of her voice. Her face wasn’t crystal clear, but I’d become used to being without my glasses, so at least it wasn’t a complete blur. I could see that she was standing there looking at me with her head cocked to the side, and I was able to pick out the mix of concern and relief fighting for control over her features.
I sighed. “I suppose I have you to thank for that?”
She shook her head. “It came from much higher up, actually.”
“I see… I thought the Federal Marshall Service handled protection details,” I said.
“It depends on the situation,” she said with a nod. “Obviously, you’re a special case.”
“Go figure,” I mumbled then drew in a deep breath and said, “Guess it didn’t matter how much I acted like an ass. I’m still being viewed as a possible asset, huh?”
“That’s the rumor… But I’m sure there’s more to it than that,” she replied.
“So, how is she?” I asked.
“Felicity? I’m afraid she’s pretty much the same,” she replied, a detectable note of apology in her voice.
“What about her parents?”
“Helen spoke to your attorney, and she’s on top of it. She said she’d come by and meet with you about it tomorrow.”
“Good.”
“So what about you?” Constance asked. “Are you doing okay?”
I swallowed then quietly breathed, “I guess that depends on your definition of okay.”
“Same old Rowan,” she replied. “I think you’re allergic to straight answers.”
“Not really. I just think out loud a lot.”
“I’ve noticed. So…can I get you anything? Are you thirsty?”
“Yeah… Actually I think I am.”
“Right now all they’ll let you have are ice chips. The nurse brought a fresh container in just a few minutes ago. Would you like some?”
“That works,” I muttered. “Just put ‘em in a glass and pour some Scotch over them.”
“Mm-hmm, I don’t think so. Besides, why would you want Scotch when you already have something even better tapped right into a vein?”
“What? This?” I said, slightly lifting the hand that still grasped the pendant from the morphine pump and then letting it fall back onto the blankets. “Not really a big fan of the side effects.”
“What side effects?”
“The nightmares.”
“Hmm,” she replied. “I didn’t have any of those, myself. It just made the pain go away and I slept a lot.”
My brain was still a bit sluggish, so it took a moment for me to connect the dots where her remark was concerned. However, within a second or two, I remembered that it wasn’t all that long ago that Constance had
