My first inclination was to tell her to let the machine get it. After all, it could very well be Shamus, or even the mystery caller who liked hanging up as opposed to talking. However, that odd feeling of urgency tickled the back of my brain and set me wondering just who might be at the other end of the line.

"Yeah," I replied, never breaking my gaze.

She stepped around me, picking her way through the still trashed house as she headed for the bookshelves. At my back I heard her pick up the handset, cutting off the ringer in the middle of its clamor for attention.

Her voice replaced the bothersome noise a second later, "Gant-O'Brien residence."

There was expectant pause after her words, but it didn't last long at all. In fact, only a handful of heartbeats pa.s.sed before her voice spilled into the room again.

"My G.o.d... Are you okay?" she said. "Where are you?"

I was still watching Austin, but I couldn't help noticing Ben perk up at the words. Turning his attention to look toward her, he asked, "What's wrong?"

I could only see his half of the silent exchange that went on between them, and what I was privy to turned out to be indecipherable. Finally, Ben furrowed his brow and gave his head a slight shake as if he didn't fully understand.

"Rowan..." Constance called my name.

Even in my disconnected state, I couldn't help but notice the strange reverberation woven through her tone. Still, even though I could easily sense it was there, I was unable to tell if the underlying emotion was excitement or fear.

"Yeah?" I answered.

It was then she shattered my newfound calm with the words, "Rowan...it's Felicity."

I turned to face her, a full-blown mask of confusion pinned to my features. "Felicity?"

"Felicity?!" Austin yelped.

"You shut up," Ben ordered him.

Mandalay nodded and held the handset out toward me. I didn't waste time repeating the question. Stepping around the mess and knocking over a pile of books in the process, I traversed the s.p.a.ce between us and took the phone from her.

Placing it to my ear I spoke, "Felicity? What's wrong?"

"Aye," her exhausted voice flowed out of the handset. "Could you come pick me up?"

"Pick you up?"

"Aye."

"What do you..." I started the question then instantly stuttered to a stop as my overactive imagination began putting outlandish scenarios into motion. "Felicity, you didn't..."

"Didn't what?" she asked.

"You didn't break out of jail or something, did you?"

"No," she replied, her fatigue suddenly even more apparent. I imagined I could see her shaking her head as she made the matter of fact statement. Then, her voice quavered as repressed emotion started to encroach. "They turned me out, Rowan. They...they just let me go."

I didn't ask why. There would be time for that later.

"Where are you?"

"I'm in the lobby of the Justice Center."

"Don't move. I'm on my way."

I was through the door before the sound of the handset clattering into the base had even begun to fade.

I was only mildly aware that my name was being called. I heard the voices but wasn't interested in them. When I shot out the door, I took the stairs in twos, hitting the flagstone walk at a fast jog. It was right about that moment I began to notice that even this, the best thing to happen in the past two days, came fully equipped with obstacles.

The first hurdle that came to light was my congested driveway. The car Austin had driven to the house was angled haphazardly across the end of it, effectively blocking my exit.

It took less than a second for me to decide that something so minor wasn't going to stop me. The only thing that mattered at that moment was getting to Felicity and bringing her home before someone pinched me because I knew as soon as they did, I would wake up and be back in the nightmare. I also knew that such a fear was irrational, but right now I seemed to be living in a world where irrational was the norm, so I didn't discount anything. I simply wasn't going to hesitate and give anyone the chance to take this away. I was fully prepared to drive across the front lawn to get out if need be. It's not like it would have been the first time. I'd done that very thing once before.

Problem solved, or so I thought.

Roadblock number two turned out to be my keys because when I reached into my pocket, they weren't there. In my single-minded haste, I had run from the house without them. This one wasn't going to be quite as easy to make disappear. The only way I was going to overcome it was to go back inside; something I really didn't want to do because in my mind that const.i.tuted a chance for someone to burst this bubble. Unfortunately, there was no way around it.

Of course, this was when I slammed face first into number three, which happened to be Ben and Constance, both of whom had been less than two steps behind me the entire time. And, when I say I slammed into it face first, I mean literally, for when I suddenly turned to go back into the house, the three of us collided.

Now, I had no choice but to pay attention to them.

I don't know if there was a physical manifestation, but on the inside I know I cringed, fully expecting a horrific reality to descend upon me once again. Fortunately, it didn't, and the bubble held.

It didn't take long to become apparent that my plan didn't fit with the one the two of them had devised between themselves. Since it was two against one, I didn't have much hope for winning. Besides, I was lucid enough to realize that standing here arguing would just waste even more time, and that was the last thing I wanted to do. So, rather than perpetuate the disagreement in tactics, I quickly gave in, surrendering to their scenario.

Ben volunteered to stay behind and handle the situation with my brother-in-law. Constance drew the duty of taking me to pick up Felicity. Since they had come in her vehicle, and it was currently parked on the street in front of the house, we were unenc.u.mbered by both obstacles number one and two. Since they, themselves, were number three, all barriers were now rendered moot.

Before we left, both of them offered to give statements to the local police if I wanted to press charges against Austin. I pondered the idea then decided against it. I suppose in the end I made the choice for Felicity's sake. Given all that she'd been through, having her husband swearing out a complaint against her brother probably wasn't something she needed thrown on the pyre right now. I will admit, though, I seriously considered it, even if only for a moment.

What I did tell Ben was that I wanted the man out of my house before I returned. He may well have been on his way to coming around since my posing the questions to him, but I wasn't interested in taking chances right now. As I was climbing into the pa.s.senger side of Constance's sedan, my friend guaranteed me that he would see to my wish, admitting that it was likely to mean a call to the local police for a patrol car, a Breathalyzer, and a tow truck.

To be honest, that solution suited me just fine.

CHAPTER 21:.

"I just don't get this," I said aloud as I shifted uncontrollably in the pa.s.senger seat. It seemed as though I was infused with enough nervous energy to power a small city, and I just couldn't get comfortable. I settled back and tried to stop myself from fidgeting then added, "I don't understand what's going on."

The verbal lament wasn't actually a question; it was really nothing more than an observation born of frustration so intense that my brain was no longer willing to keep the thought to itself. Even so, it was the truth. While I was all about serendipity, especially in this case, Felicity suddenly being released without some type of advance notice just didn't make sense. I was honestly perplexed by what was happening, and I really did want to understand.

Of course, the fact that I was less than a step shy of being officially overwrought certainly wasn't helping. I guess my tone conveyed that sense of confusion in spades because Mandalay took it as a cue to provide a simplistic explanation.

"Something must have happened," she stated without embellishment.

I'll admit I was confused, but I also hadn't gone totally dense. Without thinking I fired back a retort, and this time the unfiltered response was even more heavily rimmed with the emotional overload. Unfortunately, the bite in my voice was not only obvious, but also exceptionally unpleasant. "Well, h.e.l.l Constance, I think maybe I kind of figured that part out on my own! The question is what?"

She glanced over at me as she eased the speeding sedan across the full breadth of Highway Forty and settled into the left lane. Reflected splashes of radiance from a self-contained deck strobe, which was resting on the dash, cast her face in a chaotic flicker of red and blue. It allowed me to see that she was frowning, but it also made her expression seem terribly harsh. I couldn't truly be sure if the look she was wearing was one of anger or merely pity.

I doubt anyone else, least of all the police, would feel our mission warranted the use of the pulsating emergency lights, but they had been Constance's idea, and not mine. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She had just managed to pre-empt me before I made the suggestion myself. In fact, the idea was about to tumble out of my mouth when I noticed her suction cupping the device into place.

"Calm down," she said, shaking her head as she aimed her eyes back toward the road. Her voice was stern, but there was no real anger to speak of within the words, just annoyance. I'm sure she was experiencing her own attack of frustration, both with the situation and with me. "I'm saying something has to have happened that seriously undermined their case against her."

"Sorry," I apologized quickly then tried to offer an explanation for my comments. "Look, I'm not complaining, believe me. They never should have arrested her in the first place. I'm just trying to understand what's going on."

"I know, Rowan, but..." she stopped her sentence short, again focusing her attention completely on the road.

Lightly tapping the brakes, she canted the steering wheel slightly and veered onto the Eleventh Street-Stadium exit ramp then headed into the sharp curve. I was pressed against the door from the outward force as she eschewed further use of the brake and immediately gunned the engine, accelerating through the turn, shooting down the ramp, and off onto Eleventh Street. It was a good thing nothing was scheduled at the nearby indoor sports complex because that meant traffic was light, and there was no one to get in her way. As she merged onto the northbound street, she continued speaking where she had so abruptly left off, "What I'm trying to tell you is that you can bet whatever it is that happened, it cleared Felicity hands down."

"Why? I mean, that's great and all, but why?"

"Because, it's Sat.u.r.day night. The prosecutor had to suck it up and interrupt a judge's evening. Who knows, maybe he even had to get a judge out of bed in order to get her released right now."

"Okay, I admit I was wondering about that," I replied with a nod. "Our attorney said it's almost impossible to get a bail hearing on a weekend. She had to pull some serious strings just to get me in to see her today."

"Your attorney is correct, but that's just it. This isn't bail; this is release. As of this morning she was being charged with murder, but now she's walking. That means the charges got dropped almost as soon as they got filed. For the prosecutor to go to a judge, hat in hand, on a Sat.u.r.day evening to get charges dropped means they're painfully aware that they screwed up royally.

"What it basically says is that either there was gross incompetence that they knew was going to bite them in the a.s.s, or something happened that screwed up their case. Either way, it's not something that looks good on a resume at all. Given the track record of the prosecutor, I'm betting it wasn't incompetence on his part. Maybe someone else, but not him. Either way, something happened. Something big."

"Big how?"

"I can think of several things," she replied. "New evidence, mishandling of existing evidence, or even another murder while she was in custody.

"No matter what it is, though, there's one thing you can be sure of-a lot of embarra.s.sment is being dished up right now, and someone's a.s.s is going to be in a sling. Count on it. The fact that they are letting her out in such a hurry is evidence enough of that."

"Why?"

"Easy. They want her free before the press can get hold of it."

"Won't they still?"

"Sure, they always do, but it won't make anywhere near as big a splash as it would if they had video of her walking out the doors after all the hoopla that got made over her arrest. I'm actually surprised they didn't wait until later tonight to spring her. More like midnight or one in the morning."

"One in the morning?" I repeated in disbelief.

"Yes, one in the morning," she replied. "I know it sounds insane, but it's not as off the wall as you might think. It's been done before, more than once, actually. All in order to sneak it by the press. What's unfortunate is that this sort of thing happens more than you'd care to know."

We had already blown through a stoplight at Spruce and were now approaching Clark Avenue. Constance began slowing the vehicle as cross traffic loomed in the headlights.

"You're kidding, right?" I asked, reaching for the dash as the brakes took hold, then instantly released, causing me to pitch forward against my shoulder harness.

Constance pulled around the car ahead of us and continued forward, cautiously nosing her way into the intersection. Once everyone stopped to allow her through, she whipped immediately into a left turn from the center lane and punched the accelerator.

"I wish I were, Row," she finally responded in an absent tone. "I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like it's a daily occurrence. But, the truth is, Felicity definitely isn't the first person this sort of thing has happened to."

"No offense, but for me that doesn't inspire a lot of confidence in our legal system."

"I know, Rowan," she sighed. "Trust me, I know. Sometimes I wonder about the system myself and I'm part of it."

As the buildings along the block slipped past the windows, and the distance closed on the next intersection, she again tapped the brakes to slow the sedan. If ever we were going to attract attention to ourselves, now would probably be the time because city police headquarters was almost directly ahead of us on the left, just across Tucker Boulevard. Given our speed and the flashing lights, it was almost a given that we would gain ourselves an entourage.

Constance shot a quick glance in both directions and finding it clear, she barreled on through the traffic signal. Cranking the wheel hard and mashing on the accelerator, she instantly made a sharp right onto the main thoroughfare and punched forward. Just over ten seconds later, she was bringing the car to a skidding halt next to the curb.

I was out of my seatbelt before she had even begun braking, and I'm almost certain we were still in motion when I popped the door and started to jump out. At least, that's the only way I can think of to explain why my feet sc.r.a.ped horizontally along the sidewalk.

It took everything I had not to break into a dead run the minute I was fully out of the vehicle. In fact, I didn't even bother to close the door as I started toward the stairs at something between a fast walk and a jog. As I had suspected, a pair of patrol cars with light bars fully ignited were sliding to a halt behind the sedan before I'd made it five steps. I didn't bother to stop. Constance could take care of them. Continuing forward and looking up at the entrance, I immediately spotted a slight figure moving quickly in my direction.

Felicity shot down the stairs without restraint to meet me at the bottom, her pet.i.te frame slamming into me so hard my breath escaped in a perfunctory huff. She threw her arms around my neck and buried her face against my shoulder as she started to sob quietly. I instantly wrapped my own arms about her and held her tightly, lifting her from the bottom step and slowly turning in place before finally settling her back onto the sidewalk. Still, I didn't let go and neither did she. If anything, we both gripped one another even tighter.

As we stood there tangled in an emotional embrace, a cold November wind whipped around us on its trek through the downtown streets. But, even though I wasn't wearing a coat, the chill didn't faze me. I had something far more important occupying my attention, and keeping me warm.

After a moment, however, I did notice that I hadn't yet bothered to take a breath ever since the wind had been knocked from my lungs. But, that was okay. There would be plenty of time for breathing later.

"All they said was 'Sorry for the inconvenience, Miz O'Brien, you're free to go,'" Felicity announced softly. She paused before repeating a particular word from the sentence, her voice falling into an annoyed whisper, "Inconvenience."

I didn't have an answer for that. There was nothing I could possibly say that was going to make it better or make either of us understand. Right now it didn't matter, though, because I knew all she wanted was for someone to listen. That was a task I was more than happy to perform, if for no other reason than to hear her voice once again inside the walls of our home.

She continued, slightly louder, but still subdued. "I wasn't even sure if they were going to let me use the phone. The first person I asked said no. I guess I just got lucky when I asked someone else. I suppose I should be grateful for that."

"Did you say thank you?" I asked facetiously, my voice low.

"No. I think I was still too stunned."

"I wouldn't worry. They'll get over it."

True to his word, Ben had seen to the removal of Austin. He surrept.i.tiously pulled me aside once we had returned home to let me know that my brother-in-law was being held overnight by the Briarwood police for violating a public intoxication ordinance and that he would most likely be cut loose in the morning. I sincerely appreciated his tact where that situation was concerned because it was something Felicity didn't need to worry about at this moment. Hopefully, once Austin was fully sober, he would give some more thought to the points I had tried to make. Then, maybe we could have a truly productive discourse.

After that, Ben and Constance didn't stay long. Once they were certain we were settled in, they said their goodnights and left us alone. I had offered to put on a fresh pot of coffee, but they immediately declined. It seemed the elation of having my wife home had nullified any of the remaining anger I was feeling toward Ben-at least, for the time being. While it would be impossible to forget everything that had transpired, I hoped that our friendship was on the mend. Of course, that was really up to me, not him. He had remained loyal throughout it all, even if my rampant emotions hadn't allowed me to see it.

In any case, it was obvious that even though we had several questions, they were just as in the dark about the situation as us. They both definitely planned to find out what they could, but for the moment the mystery behind my wife's sudden release was going to remain just that. Besides, and perhaps even more important than solving that riddle, they also knew what Felicity and I really needed in the wake of all this was some time alone. In the end, that was a bit of wisdom with which I couldn't disagree.

"You're sure you don't want something to eat?" I asked after what seemed like several minutes of silence.

I was sitting on the floor of the master bathroom, my back against the cool tiled wall. Felicity was in the tub, up to her neck in warm water and lavender scented bubbles. I had offered to make her something to eat earlier when we had first arrived home. Ben had even offered her the left over tacos he hadn't gotten around to devouring, but she didn't seem to have an appet.i.te. All she wanted to do, she said, was soak in a hot bath. That was a desire I found easy to help her fulfill.

"I'm sure," she told me softly.

"A drink? I think we still have a bottle of Bushmills in the cabinet. There might even be some Black Bush in there too."