Rowan Gant - Perfect Trust Part 41

"Then where the h.e.l.l is she?!" I snarled the demand.

"I don't know yet, white man," he returned. "But I'm gonna find her."

CHAPTER 27.

Hope ignited from a miniscule spark and set flame to a tiny candle somewhere deep inside me. Its glow was so incredibly faint so as to be almost beyond notice, but it was there-flickering defiantly into the face of the shadowy fear that threatened to extinguish it.

"According to your monitoring service, the alarm was disabled with Felicity's code via the keypad in the kitchen at six-oh-seven PM," Ben told me."Then it had to have happened after she was in," I offered. "We have a duress code she would have used otherwise."

My friend nodded agreement. "Figured as much. There wasn't a trigger from the panic b.u.t.tons either."

"He must have followed her in."

"Maybe, but I'm workin' a different angle. We've done a door to door. n.o.body saw anything, but considerin' what day it is, no big surprise there."

"What about the people who were supposed to be watching the house?"

"That's a cl.u.s.ter." He shook his head. "Left hand didn't know what the right hand was doin'. Locals thought the Feebs were on, Feebs thought the locals were on, and... and well... There's just no way to sugar coat it, Row. Somebody f.u.c.ked up and there hasn't been anyone watchin' since about three this afternoon."

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I wanted to explode, but logically I knew that doing so wouldn't help. Still, just how much longer I was going to stay on the side of rationality remained to be seen.

"That doesn't sound like Constance," I said.

"That's exactly why it's a cl.u.s.ter. Mandalay had to go back down to the scene in Cape, so she wasn't here." Ben's disdain for the FBI was almost legendary.

Constance Mandalay was the only agent he trusted, and the events of this evening added just that much more evidence to his personal case file against the agency. "But let's not go there, 'cause it's not gonna get us anywhere. Front door was unlocked,"

he continued. "Did you do that?"

"No," I shook my head vigorously. "They've already asked me that."

"I'm just checkin'," he told me. "Since you two normally come in the back, that would mean Felicity had to have opened it since there was no sign of a forced entry."

"The mail," I offered.

"What?"

"The mail was on the dining room table," I explained. "She probably got the mail."

"Okay, what about the back?"

"Unlocked."

"What about the lights? Were any on?"

"I've been over this twice now!" I threw my hands up in exasperation. "What does it matter?"

"Calm down," Ben appealed. "I'm just tryin' to get a handle on this."

"Get a handle on what, Ben?! My wife is gone!"

"Listen to me for a minute," he ordered. "We're talkin' about Felicity here, she...""No s.h.i.+t!" I spat. "Did they give you your badge as a reward for recognizing the obvious?!"

His voice raised a notch. "Shut the f.u.c.k up and listen to me G.o.ddammit!"

"Benjamin!" Helen admonished, breaking her self-imposed silence.

"Stay out of it, Helen!" he barked.

"Why don't you quit s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around and tell me something I don't already know!" I almost screamed at him.

Without warning he lashed out. I flinched, fully expecting his fist to connect with my jaw. In retrospect, I certainly would have deserved it if it had. Instead, I felt his large hand twist into the collar of my s.h.i.+rt at the back of my neck and I instantly felt myself being propelled forward. Less than a minute later I had been forced up the stairs, through the atrium, then the kitchen, and finally, into the dining room.

The Crime Scene Technicians had all but vacated the premises, and were finis.h.i.+ng up in front of the house. Helen had followed after Ben, and the three of us now stood before the spectacle that had so thoroughly thrust me into despair.

"Look at the scene, Rowan!" he demanded. "Stop acting like an a.s.shole for just one second and take a good look at it!"

The bright incandescence of the artificial lighting cast a stark picture before me as my eyes fought to adjust. Just as it had been earlier, the dining room table was canted at an angle, pushed a few degrees from its original position in the room. The chairs were in minor disarray from the movement, and as before, one was on its side. The mail we'd just discussed was spread out toward one end, with a trio of #10 envelopes, and a medium-sized box resting haphazardly on the floor below.

The Bible still stared back from dead center as if mocking me.

The only thing that had really changed was that a patina of graphite and lycopodium powders now enhanced the latent fingerprints throughout.

"Whaddaya see?" my friend asked, his voice stern but slightly calmer.

"I don't know," I shot back. "My dining room? A mess? What am I supposed to see?"

He let go of my collar and I immediately wheeled about to face him.

"Like I said," he thrust a finger at me, "we're talking about Felicity here. This is a woman who once tackled a mugger and sat on 'im until a squad car arrived. Now take another look. Does this room REALLY look like she put up a fight?"

I didn't need to look again. He was correct. In reality, the disruption was minor in comparison to what it could have been. My wife was not one who would go quietly into the night without first extracting her own pound of flesh. She would have fought. She would have kicked. She would have screamed like a banshee. No matter how big, or how strong her attacker, she would have wrecked the entire house trying to get away.Ben could see the light dawning in my face, and he knew that I was beginning to understand where he was headed, so he pressed forward. "In your statement you said the dogs were shut up in the bedroom, right?"

"Yes," I nodded. "They were."

"How would they have gotten there?"

"Felicity would have had to put them there," I murmured.

"Why?" he kept going, forcing me to see what he had already surmised.

My voice fell almost to a whisper. "That's what we do if someone they aren't used to is in the house and they are being bothersome."

"Exactly," Ben nodded. "Whoever took Felicity is someone she knows, Kemosabe. Someone she was comfortable enough to let into the house, but unfamiliar enough that she had to lock the dogs away. She wasn't afraid, so he was able to take her down so unexpectedly that she didn't even have a chance to fight."

I stared at him, dumbfounded by the realization that had overtaken my grey matter.

"You've gotta work with me on this, Row. We're gonna find her, but I've gotta have your help."

My mind was racing, applying a mental litmus test to a list of possible suspects I was compiling in my head. I couldn't imagine anyone that we knew wanting to harm her. I was disregarding names as fast as they popped into my head, and soon, I found myself placing the yardstick up against the same people over and over again.

"Rowan? Talk to me," Ben prodded.

"I... It just doesn't... I'm not..." I stammered. "I don't know, Ben. I just can't think of anyone we know who would do something like this."

"Enemies? Radical religious groups maybe? You two are pretty open about your religion," he suggested.

"You pretty much know who my enemies are," I shook my head. "And to my knowledge Felicity doesn't have any. And religious groups? I can't imagine any going this far."

"Try tellin' that to the dead doctors who were killed by the anti-abortion wackos,"

he harrumphed. "It takes all kinds, Row. Have you p.i.s.sed off anyone that you know of?"

"I can't think of anyone off the top of my head."

"What about Felicity? She have any acquaintances you're not familiar with?

Someone who might be a bit hinky?"

"Sure," I shrugged. "Business contacts, clients, members of her photography club."

"We're already checkin' out the folks she was with today," he nodded. "She have a rolodex or somethin' we can look at?"I glanced around for her purse and found that it was no longer on the side table in the living room where I'd last seen it. "Her purse," I expressed. "It was on the table over there."

"It's already been bagged," Ben told me. "She have an address book in there?"

"Her PDA," I acknowledged. "She keeps everything in there. Contacts, appointments, everything."

"Okay, stay here," he told me, punctuating the command with a quick gesture of his hand as he headed for the front door. "I'll be right back."

Silence fell in behind him for a moment and I turned my head to see Helen looking studiously back at me.

"How are you holding up," she asked simply.

"As good as can be expected, I suppose."

She nodded slightly, and continued to watch me as she offered comment.

"Benjamin can sometimes resemble a bull in a china shop with his methods."

"Yeah," I acknowledged, "I've seen him be gentler."

"It is only because he is frightened, Rowan. He fears for your wife's safety, and for your sanity. He considers you family, and you know his sense of duty."

I nodded. "I know."

She pursed her lips and her brow furrowed deeply. Pressing her palms together she held her hands up and rested her chin on her steepled fingertips. We stood quietly for a moment, and it became my turn to watch her.

"Rowan, your wife is going to be fine," she finally told me.

"Is this the coddling I was asking for?" I asked with a flat tone to my words.

"No. It is merely an observation."

"Do you know something that the rest of us don't?"

"I simply know what it is that I feel," she answered as she canted her head to the side and blinked. "You of all people should understand that."

I allowed her words to comfort me, though the solace was brief. "Thanks, Helen.

I hope you're right."

"This what you're talkin' about?" Ben interrupted as he entered and thrust a thin, silver case at me.

"Yes," I nodded as I took it from him and opened the cover to reveal the electronic device within.

I activated the PDA and withdrew the stylus from its recessed holder, then began systematically tapping it against the touch sensitive screen. "Here." I offered the device back to him. "This is her address book."

"You go through it," he told me. "See if anyone rings a bell. Someone she mighthave mentioned having a disagreement with. Anything like that."

I turned the small LCD display back toward myself and proceeded to page through the listings, one entry at a time. She had combined our home address book with her own, so various bits of data stood out as familiar while others did not.

Before long, however, they all began to look like just so many letters and numbers jumbled together.

I stopped and removed my gla.s.ses, then rubbed my eyes.

"Somethin' wrong?" Ben queried.

"Not really," I answered as I slipped my gla.s.ses back on to my face. "It just seems like I've been staring at small print all day."

"Recognize anything?"

"Well, yeah," I said. "But nothing that leaps out at me as particularly suspicious."

"So, what are ya doin' now?" he asked as he nodded in the direction of the device.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what are ya' doin'?" he reiterated, raising an eyebrow. "You aren't even lookin' at the d.a.m.n thing."

The sound of the stylus clacking against the touch sensitive plate reached my ears and I realized my hand was moving completely of its own accord. As I rotated my head and looked down at the PDA in my hand, the out of phase tones of a voice echoed quietly in the back of my head.

"There. Is this better?"