“For his sake, I hope you’re right,” he acknowledged. “But, I still have a job to do, and I wouldn’t be much of a cop if I didn’t follow all the leads. Look, Row, I’d like ta’ agree with you, but even you hafta admit the fingerprint on the bottom of that candle is pretty incriminatin’.”
“Yeah. It is,” I agreed, “but I’m sure there’s an explanation for it.”
“Lemme know if ya’ think of a reasonable one,” Ben returned.
We stood a little longer, silently staring at one another. Tension still radiated from my friend, and I felt there was something he wished to say but couldn’t find the words. The sounds of sirens being tested filled the wordless void around us as shifts changed and squad cars entered and left the lot.
Finally, I broke the speechless interlude. “So, you’ll call me if anything turns up?”
“Yeah, I’ll let ya’ know,” he told me with a nod then added, “Give Felicity my best and… Tell ‘er… Tell ‘er I’m sorry.”
“I’ll do that.”
Ben had already disappeared into the door of the police station by the time I backed out of my parking space and shifted into forward motion. I reached over and turned up the radio as I pulled out of the lot. I hung a quick right and melded with the traffic then pointed myself in the direction of home. Before returning to the hospital, I still needed to call Felicity’s client to re-schedule as well as put together an overnight bag for her, just in case.
The last few nondescript chords of a song I didn’t recognize filtered to my ears, and a DJ’s voice blended in behind them. Before she had a chance to tell me the name of the song I had just ignored, I punched a preset and switched to the local National Public Radio affiliate. I was looking for something other than the events of this day to occupy my mind-even if only for a few moments.
The afternoon faded slowly into evening, and the end of visiting hours approached at an ever-quickening pace. Once Felicity had returned to wakefulness, I spent the evening filling her in on the events that had occurred with R.J. This did little to improve her demeanor, so I elected to leave out the incident with Ben and Allison for the time being. As if my news weren’t enough, the doctor assigned to her case chose to keep her overnight for observation despite her vehement and very animated protestations. The rest of my evening was spent listening to her grumble.
When the nurse finally decided to eject me from the room, I kissed my still fuming wife goodbye and promised to return bright and early the next morning.
I arrived home to a sedate household-the dogs moping about listlessly, and the wide-eyed cats lined up along the windowsill, ears twisting like radar dishes searching for even the most remote sign of Felicity. Anyone who tells you that animals don’t sense when something is wrong, or that they can’t show concern, has definitely never owned a pet.
I tended to their various needs of being let out and in, food, water, and generous amounts of attention before locking up for the night. The house felt empty and hollow without Felicity. We had been separated before but never under circumstances such as these. Never, at a time when among my greatest fears was that of going to sleep- going to sleep and facing another nightmare.
I put on a pot of coffee and stubbornly decided that I would wait out the night. I would read, play solitaire, watch old movies, but under no circumstances would I allow myself to re-live Ariel’s death in my dreams. Of course, everyone knows about the best-laid plans of mice and men.
My first mistake was choosing to sit on the couch while waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. My second mistake was allowing my eyelids to close as exhaustion crept up on me.
Darkness.
Darkness without shape or form.
Cold, bone chilling darkness from the heart of nowhere.
I was floating.
I was falling.
I was screaming.
“ Rowan.” Ariel, once again in a white lace gown, smiled brightly at me. “Have a seat. It’s been so long since I’ve read for you.”
I was sitting. It was sudden. The movement disjointed. I didn’t recall moving to the chair.
I was sitting.
Ariel smiled at me across the table. A table that until moments before had never existed. Her face was vibrant, her eyes bright and alive. Her strawberry-blonde hair lofted gently on a cool breeze. In her dainty hands, she held an oversized deck of cards. A deck of tarot cards. I watched as she shuffled them quickly. Or did she? Her hands never moved.
“ This represents him,” she said aloud, looking down at the center of the table.
The Knight of Cups.
“ No, Ariel. The Knight of Cups is not my significator,” I try to tell her. “It doesn’t represent me.”
My words fall soundlessly to the floor like a grotesque parody of a children’s cartoon.
“ This covers him.” She continues to look only at the table.
The Devil.
She’s not reading for me.
She’s reading for the killer.
“ This crosses him,” she continues.
The Tower.
I watch the cards intently.
“ Rowan, how nice to see you,” a lilting voice comes from behind me.
I turn.
Ariel is smiling at me. A dark shape, hooded and malevolent, moves behind her. I want to warn her, but I know that I can’t.
Crimson spreads across the white lace.
“ Why, Rowan? Why?” her gurgling voice calls to me.
Darkness.
Dull black void.
“ Hey, Mister,” a tiny voice asserts itself.
I turn and look down.
A young girl. Silky, strawberry-blonde hair tied back with white bows. A white lace dress encases her. She looks up at me with large, sad eyes. A familiar deck of cards is clutched tightly in her tiny hand. She holds it out, offering them to me. I take the cards.
“ Why don’t you stop the bad man?” the child asks.
Before I can reply, she is gone.
I spin about in search of her and find only darkness. I look back to the deck of tarot cards in my hand. They seem so tiny. I turn over the top card.
The Seven of Pentacles.
Pain rips through my back and into my chest. Out of reflex I look down. The gilt end of a beveled blade is protruding from my chest.
Blood.
Scarlet, thick blood runs down my shirt.
“ All…Is…Forgiven.” A dark voice laughs from behind me. The knife juts farther from my solar plexus.
I look down at the tarot cards in my hand. Slowly they spill into space, fluttering then fading away. I fight to focus on them as they quickly flash their faces to me before they disappear.
They are all the same card.
They are all the Seven of Pentacles.
