Maybe I am the killer.
Those words echoed inside my skull as I stood there in the wake of my wife’s fading voice. She already had more than enough people who truly believed that speculation to be fact. She certainly didn’t need any more. Hell, even my own faith in her had been shaken for an instant during the night, but for her to now doubt her own sanity simply wouldn’t do. She couldn’t afford to let that happen right now, because the fear that came with questioning your own right-mindedness was a terror like no other, and it would consume you if you allowed it to take hold.
Unfortunately, I could already see it swelling behind her eyes, and she was looking to me to stop it. I couldn’t say that I didn’t understand what she was going through inside her head, because I did, all too well. I had been suspect of my own grasp on reality more than once over the past several years.
She and Ben had too.
Still, that didn’t give me the right to doubt hers now. In fact, it simply meant that I needed to stand by her just as she had by me, even while her certainty in my saneness was faltering.
She kept her gaze locked with mine, eyes searching my face, and I knew she was looking for a reaction. More than that, she was seeking a lifeline, a reason to maintain hope. And, it had to come from me, no one else.
I finally shook my head and said, “No, Felicity. You aren’t the killer.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
“I wish I could be so sure.”
“You don’t really believe that you killed anyone, do you?”
“Right now, I don’t know.”
“Well, you didn’t.”
“How can you be so sure, then?” she asked, blatantly challenging me to prove my belief in her innocence.
“Simple. How did you feel when you came to?” I asked.
“I just told you,” she murmured. “I was turned on.”
“No, I mean other than that.”
“A bit dizzy,” she replied. “Disoriented for a moment, maybe. But that passed quickly.”
“Sounds like a possession, or at the very least an unchecked channeling, to me.”
“But you don’t understand how aroused…”
“Actually, yes, I do.” I cut her off, remembering the swell of internal pleasure that had accosted me at the last crime scene before I had managed to ground myself. “Believe it or not, I do. And, trust me, that doesn’t make you the killer.”
“I don’t know, then.”
“Like I said, I do,” I replied.
“I appreciate your blind faith, Rowan, but it doesn’t help me.”
“Okay, let me ask you this: Where were you Monday night?”
“Why?”
“Just tell me where you were.”
She shook her head then shrugged, and I could see by her expression that she was searching her memory for the answer. “Monday, I did a last minute product shoot for a new client and it ran late. But you know that.”
“Yes, I do,” I said with a nod. “But, now you need to remind yourself.”
She shrugged again but began reciting facts as if she was comforted by the fact that she could actually remember them. “Well, they were better than an hour outside Saint Louis, and when I left their office it was late… I took a wrong turn getting back to the highway and got lost for a bit… It was almost two when I finally got home… And then I’d barely gotten to sleep when Ben called.”
“There you go.”
“There I go what?”
“You just gave me your alibi for when Hammond Wentworth was murdered.”
“Perhaps, but what if I just don’t remember doing it?”
“You remember the details of the photo shoot and the trip home, don’t you?”
“Aye.”
“Any blackouts? Time you can’t account for?”
“No.”
“Then you’re in the clear.”
“But what if it’s a false memory?”
“Any seemingly false memories from last night?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I would think that if your psyche were going to produce false memories to account for your actions, it would have made some up to cover the ten or so hours you’re missing right now.”
“Aye, maybe so.”
“And, I bet we can call the client and verify your story.”
“All right then, but what of the other one?”
“Even simpler. I’m your alibi. That victim was killed while you and I were in bed asleep.”
“But are you sure I was there?”
“Honey, what are you trying to do? Make a case for the prosecution?”
“No,” she replied, frustration thick in her voice. “I just don’t remember anything after we went to bed. Just like last night.”
“That’s because we were both completely exhausted, Felicity,” I explained. “We were asleep. Hell, we over slept.”
“But, what if I was sleepwalking?”
“You weren’t.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
“Were you awake, then? Did you sit and watch me sleeping?”
“No, but that doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does!” she exclaimed. “Rowan, you channeled a killer once, remember? And, you went out roaming the city without any memory of it. Just like is happening to me. But, maybe, just maybe I went that extra step and really did murder someone!”
“That was different.”
“Different how?”
“It just was.”
“That’s not good enough. How do you know I didn’t do it?”
“Because I’m telling you that you didn’t,” I replied, my voice moving perceptibly up in volume.
“You can’t know that!” she insisted, raising her voice as well.
“Yes, by the fucking Gods I can!” I declared harshly. “You didn’t do it, Felicity!”
She stared back at me for a moment then took in a deep breath and said with strained calm, “Because I really didn’t do it, or because you just refuse to believe that I did?”
“Both,” I told her, my voice now barely above a whisper.
She continued to stare at me for a long moment then slowly buried her face in her hands. I watched her shoulders rise and fall as again she tried to force herself to ground and center.
“Aye,” she finally said, looking back up at me. “Suppose you’re right? What about last night then? What I did to that man even after I came to. Explain that.”
“I already did.”
“No, you didn’t. I’m not talking about while I was blacked out. I’m talking about after,” she appealed. “Don’t you get it, Rowan? I was conscious of what I was doing, and I got off on it.”
“Did you?”
“Yes,” she returned. “I can’t believe I’m standing here saying this, but yes. I had an absolutely incredible orgasm.”
“That’s not what I’m asking. I mean did you really get off on what you did to him?”
She gave her head a confused shake. “I just told you I did.”
“If you really did, then why did you pick up his phone and call me?”
She stared at me a moment then said, “I was scared.”
“I know.”
“But…”
I stopped her before she could finish voicing her objection. “But nothing, honey. Look, I know that you’re actually into the dominant role-play thing, and I’m sure that in some way that fact helped fuel what was happening to you. But tell me the truth. Have you ever seriously entertained the idea of physically hurting me and gotten aroused by it?”
“Yes.”
“I mean before the other day.”
“Yes,” she repeated in a deadly serious tone, nodding vigorously to punctuate the word. “I’ve actually fantasized about dominating you.”
I was slightly taken aback but not overly surprised by her candid answer. Given what I had learned about her a few days prior, I should have expected it. Still, I tried my best not to betray the fact that I was a bit ruffled. Some glimmer of an expression must have passed across my face, however, because she suddenly rushed to explain.
“Yes, I’ve wanted to play,” she said. “And, I’ve even hinted at it a few times. I just never had the courage to come right out and ask if you would be interested in experimenting that way. I… I didn’t want you to… to…”
“To what? Think you were strange?”
“No. I didn’t want you to stop loving me.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“So you still don’t think it was all me? Even after what I just told you?”
“No, I don’t, but if you still need convincing, let me re-phrase the question. You just said play. You even stressed the word. So, have you ever entertained the idea of taking it beyond a game? Of hurting me so badly that I ended up in the hospital?”
“No…” she said, shaking her head. “Of course not. I would never…”
“Well, that’s exactly where you put that man last night.”
“But, I love you,” she countered. “Maybe I was capable of hurting him that badly because I don’t have any feelings for him.”
“Emotional attachment or not, I don’t believe that the Felicity Caitlin O’Brien I married is capable of that level of malice.”
“Maybe I’m not her anymore.”
“Yes, you are. You weren’t last night, but you are now, and I’m going to prove it.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet,” I said, stepping toward her again, and this time she didn’t shy away. “Look, I’m nowhere near knowledgeable enough about Voodoo to tell you for sure what happened to you yesterday, or more importantly, why. What I do know, however, is that either you were possessed by someone, or you were seriously channeling someone… There’s no doubt in my mind about that…
“And, just so you know, no matter how dominant you think you are, the person who was controlling your body yesterday makes Felicity O’Brien look like Little Red Riding Hood.”
She allowed herself a half-hearted smile then shook her head. “I’m still scared.”
“I know.”
“So… What is going to happen now?”
“Constance didn’t tell you?” I asked.
“Not really.”
“Well, she’s falling on her sword for you.”
“How so?”
“She’s convinced her superiors to clean your slate and give her a reprimand.”
“How did she manage that?”
“I have no idea.”
“Aye, but she didn’t do anything wrong.”
“No, she didn’t.”
Felicity simply sighed and fell against me once again. I slipped my arms around her as she quietly rested her head on my shoulder. She didn’t resume her sobbing, and I took that as a good sign. But, I could easily feel her confusion and fear flowing into me, prickling my skin with a cold wave of gooseflesh.
I stroked her hair as I gently rocked her. After a comfortable silence I said, “If I understood Constance correctly, they should be letting you out of here soon. Then we can go home.”
“And then?”
“And then I figure out what’s going on and why it’s happening to you.”
She didn’t answer me right away, but when she did her voice was a pleading whisper. “Make it stop, Rowan… Please…”
“I’m trying” was all I could think of to say.
Friday, November 18
1:27 P.M.
Saint Louis, Missouri