All Acts Of Pleasure Part 19

"Yeah, well, maybe so, but that still doesn't change the fact that you're innocent."

"Aye, I wish I could be as certain of that as you are."

"Well, I'm going to have to ask you to work on that because I need you to believe it as well."

"I'll try."

"So...after all that, do you still want a divorce?"

"No. I didn't really want one to begin with."

"Didn't think so."

"But you might."

I gave my head a frustrated shake. "I thought we'd..."

"Just hear me out for a second," she interrupted.

"Fine," I surrendered. "But please let's not start this argument up all over again."

"It's about the evidence."

"Okay, what about it?"

"What evidence have you heard about?"

"So far, just the DNA and the hair. They took some of your clothes from the house. They also grabbed some books from my office, but those were mine...and the library's, so they don't count. Other than that, not much, really."

She sighed and glanced away then looked back to me with a renewed nervousness.

"I love you, Rowan Linden Gant," she abruptly announced.

"Right back at ya', Felicity Caitlin O'Brien," I answered. "But somehow I don't think that qualifies as evidence."

"No, but my overnight bag is a bit of a different story, then," she confessed. "And, you need to know that no matter what they imply to you, I have never..."

She didn't get a chance to finish the sentence before the guard outside opened the door once again then stepped in and announced, "Time's up."

"Just another minute or so," I appealed.

"No sir. I already let you go long as it is," she replied in a vindictive tone. "Your time is up. Now you're wasting my time."

CHAPTER 17:.

I wasn't smiling when I walked out into the afternoon daylight. There wasn't even an expression remotely resembling good humor in close proximity to my face. I know the chorus of the once popular song said that after "fighting authority", I was supposed to come out "grinnin'", but it just wasn't going to happen.

I'd been locked in this me-versus-the-law free-for-all since Friday morning, and it was getting tiresome. Thus far I hadn't accomplished much of anything other than digging myself into a deeper hole because, also like the song says, the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds did indeed keep coming out on top. There was, however, a point other than the "grinnin'" where the lyrics and I would again be diverging-and that was very simply the fact that I wasn't about to let them "always win".

As far as I was concerned, they were welcome to claim victory in all of the skirmishes they wanted. The truth was they already had, with their latest triumph being my unceremonious ejection from the interview room and immediate escort out the front doors of the Justice Center. However, when it came down to the fate of my wife, I was going to prevail, not them. They just didn't know it yet. However, the fact that the details of how I was going to accomplish this were still radically fuzzier than my crystal clear conviction was a moot point at the moment, because my mind was actually elsewhere.

It was still back upstairs with my wife.

I was certain that had I been a bit less surly-okay, a lot less surly-in my interaction with the corrections officer, I might have gotten the extra minute or two I had asked for. Instead, I was all but manhandled out of the room before Felicity could really begin her story, much less complete it. The fact that it had begun in such a cryptic, confession-like manner worried me. It wasn't that I didn't trust her because I did, that wasn't the issue at all. However, when you mix "overnight bag" and "whatever they imply, I didn't..." together, the result can be more than just a little disconcerting. Suffice it to say, since something about an overnight bag had the police taking particular notice, and with an opening like the one she'd provided, I couldn't help but have a few questions of my own.

Of course, as it stood now, I had probably done more damage than good with the authorities inside where my visitation rights were concerned. With that, and the fact that Jackie was still inside with Felicity, I wasn't sure when I would be getting my answers anytime soon. Yet another overt and undeniable chunk of evidence to support what everyone around me had been saying all along-that I needed to calm down. Unfortunately, it was much easier for them to say than it was for me to do.

I stopped mentally castigating myself for a moment and looked up to glance at the traffic cruising along Tucker before stepping off the curb on my way around to the driver's side of my truck. As it turned out, it was a good thing there weren't any moving vehicles nearby because the voice that suddenly came from behind gave me an alarming start.

"So, how's she doin'?"

I flinched involuntarily as the unexpected words caused me to lurch then immediately stumble headlong toward the street. At the same instant I felt myself pitching forward, someone clamped onto my upper arm and pulled me back. It should have been obvious that whoever had grabbed me was merely trying to help, but my paranoid mind took it in a completely different direction. I twisted around quickly, tensing as I tried to a.s.sume what I thought would be a defensive posture.

Ben took one look at my face then released my arm and held his hands out in a yielding gesture as he took a half step back. "Whoa, Kemosabe. Just a bit jumpy, ain't ya'?"

I allowed myself to relax once I realized who I was dealing with, but only slightly. My mood hadn't exactly been uplifted recently, and to be honest, I wasn't in a big hurry to talk to Ben. We had made some headway last evening, but it had really only taken the edge off my anger. While that was a start, it definitely hadn't repaired the schism by any stretch of the imagination.

As we stood there, I gave him a quick once-over. He really didn't look any better than I felt, so I suspected he was dealing with his own demons and sleepless nights. I couldn't say that I was sorry about that. I also noticed his jaw looked just about as bruised as my fist. Right or wrong, I took a modic.u.m of satisfaction in that.

"Didn't see you," I finally replied, voice flat.

"Yeah...kinda got that from the 'I'm gonna kick your a.s.s' look on your face."

"Uh-huh...well, as I recall you're the one who told me to be careful when I'm in the city."

"Yeah, but I meant the parts where ya' really need ta' be careful. I mean, look around. Ya' got coppers all over the place down here."

"All the more reason to watch my back, don't you think?" I just couldn't stop myself from uttering the choleric words.

"Yeah, uh-huh. So, obviously you're right back ta' bein' major p.i.s.sed," he grunted. "Thought we'd patched things up a bit last night."

"Maybe a little, but this is going to take more than a little patching. I mean, look at what I'm dealing with here? Can you blame me for being p.i.s.sed off?"

"Guess not," he a.s.sented with a shallow nod. "But ya' need ta' try and get over it 'cause we ain't the bad guys, Row."

"It's been my experience that the bad guys rarely think of themselves as such."

"Yeah, okay," he replied, holding up his hands again in surrender. "Not gonna go there with ya'. Don't wanna argue right now. You're p.i.s.sed, that's fine. It's all good. We'll just hafta work around it."

"Thank you so much for your approval," I offered with heavy sarcasm overtly tagged to the words.

He just shook his head but didn't reply.

"So," I asked out of curiosity. "Are you following me now? Am I under surveillance? On the verge of being arrested as Felicity's accomplice or something?"

"Gimme a break," he grunted. "If you were under surveillance, you wouldn't know it unless we wanted ya' to. The real deal is I was gonna call ya', but I noticed your truck sittin' here when I pulled in a couple minutes ago. Thought I'd just come over and talk to ya' in person instead."

"Are you sure that's wise?"

He shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. But I was seen talkin' to ya' last night, so if there's gonna be any fallout, the damage is already done...for me, anyway."

I didn't really understand what he meant with his addendum to the sentence, but it wasn't important. The fact was that his obvious conclusion about me being concerned for his career, while somewhat logical, was a misinterpretation of my query. I thought I should probably just let it go, but again my mouth was running out of sync with my brain.

"Actually, I was talking about your jaw," I corrected him. "You aren't afraid I might take a swing?"

"Uh-huh," he said with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah. Well, don't expect another free shot anytime soon, white man. Ain't gonna happen."

"I'll bear that in mind."

"Yeah, whatever," he said, still not pursuing the caustic tone of my replies. Instead, he peered back at me with questioning eyes then repeated his earlier question, "So, anyway, how's Firehair?"

"She's been better," I answered. "Of course, that stands to reason when you think about where she is."

"Yeah," he mumbled, inspecting the sidewalk for a moment before looking back to my face. "But, she's tough. She'll hold up."

"Yeah. I just hope she's tough enough."

"She is."

"Glad you're so confident."

"You ain't?"

"Let's just say I'm worried."

"Yeah, I can understand that..." he agreed with a nod.

"So," I asked. "This great confidence you have in her fort.i.tude...is that recent revelation?"

"Just drawin' from what I know about 'er."

"Really? I thought you'd pretty much discounted all of that last night when the irrefutable evidence became the thing."

"I never said that."

"Not in those exact words."

He shook his head. "Ya'know, the only reason I'm resistin' the urge ta' kick your a.s.s right now is that I know your head ain't on straight."

"Okay. Am I supposed to say thank you?"

"It'd be nice, but I'd settle for ya' tryin' ta' be a little more civil."

"This is me being civil, Ben."

"Yeah, right," he harrumphed. "It's more like you bein' an a.s.shole."

"Live with it."

"It ain't helpin' your wife, Row."

"Coming from you, that sounds a bit empty."

"Look, I've been doin' some thinkin' about all this and askin' a few questions."

"Oh yeah? Did you come to any conclusions?"

"Yeah, actually, I did."

"Let me guess...you still think Felicity is guilty."

"Actually, considerin' some of the answers I've gotten, what I think is some s.h.i.+t don't add up."

"Okay, so, is that a yes or a no on the guilty part?"

"It's a 'I think some s.h.i.+t don't add up'," he replied and then added, "On both sides."

"So what you're saying is that now you're on the fence?"

"s.h.i.+t, Rowan, I was climbin' the G.o.dd.a.m.ned fence last night. Just wasn't quite sittin' on it yet."

"I couldn't tell."

"Wanna know why? 'Cause ya' were too friggin' busy bein' p.i.s.sed off ta' listen to me."

I paused for a moment to weigh what he had just said. In truth he was probably correct. Much of the previous evening was a painful blur, with even more excruciating but still out of focus highlights. I'm sure my emotional state clouded much of it just as it had been doing all along.

I finally gave him a shallow nod and replied, "Maybe so."

"Yeah...so listen...you wanna go grab somethin' ta' eat this evening?"

Taking into account the events of the past day, the invitation seemed to come out of nowhere. While I was willing to make a concession about my stubborness, I was still on a roller coaster ride where my feelings about Ben were concerned. I was willing to talk, but I wasn't so sure I wanted to sit down to dinner with him. On top of that, I had more than enough to deal with at the moment.

"No offense, Ben," I replied, begging off the invite. "But I'm not much in the mood for socializing right now. And, to be honest, I'm still not so sure about the company."

"Yeah, well in case ya' didn't notice, that last part was actually kinda offensive."

"Sorry about that. Just being honest."

"Okay, but ya' gotta eat."