Part 16 (2/2)
Her pet.i.te frame was clad in a loose fitting, sherbet orange jumpsuit, which was standard issue for inmates at the facility. The unnaturally brilliant color did little to help her altogether stark and sickly appearance.
Everything about the way she looked, right down to the way she carried herself, told me she'd managed to get no more rest than I had eked out of the long night. She looked absolutely horrible, and I'm certain the expression on my face upon first seeing her had betrayed at least that much.
Even so, to me, she still couldn't be more beautiful.
Unfortunately, just sitting here looking at her wasn't going to help either of us. We didn't have all that much time, and even less to waste. Court order or not, it wasn't going to be long before I was sent on my way by the guard on the other side of the mirrored gla.s.s.
Jackie's arrangement had specified what was called a ”contact visit”, something that might have been otherwise impossible considering the severity of the charges against Felicity. And, of course, somehow she had also managed to get them to leave us more or less unchaperoned in the room. However, that was as far as the indulgences went. Contact or not, the court order wasn't going to buy us any more time together than normal inmate visits prescribed.
The charges themselves, although making the arrangements for our visit a bit tricky, were actually working to my wife's advantage. For one thing, I had been told that she was alone in her cell, as they were segregating her from the rest of the ”population” due to her alleged crimes. Basically, in order to keep the petty thieves and DWI detainees safe, they weren't about to put an accused serial killer in direct contact with them without close supervision. I was certainly glad of that, but for much the opposite reason.
I continued watching my wife in silence across the small table. I hadn't yet replied to her urging, and I wasn't sure I could get away with the reticence for much longer. Refusing to tell her now would only widen the unexplained rift that seemed to have formed between us. The problem was, right now my brain was just too sluggish to come up with a convincing lie considering how I had started the earlier sentence.
”So, are you going to tell me, then?” she asked again, pus.h.i.+ng the silence aside.
Thus far, she'd had a tendency to stare into s.p.a.ce whenever she spoke, and that hadn't changed. I also noticed that she was still absently rubbing her red, swollen wrists where the handcuffs had chafed and bruised them. I sincerely hoped those marks hadn't been left by Ben because if they had, he wouldn't need to invite the next punch.
I opened my mouth to speak, mumbled through a false start, then offered up what I thought was a logical excuse, as I tried one last shot at disentangling myself from the self-inflicted mess. ”I shouldn't have said anything. I really don't want to upset you.”
”Too late, Rowan,” she replied. ”Take a look around. The police beat you to it.”
”You still don't need any more to worry about,” I told her with a shake of my head.
”And, you do?”
”No...” I replied quietly. ”Neither of us do.”
”Aye.”
”Yeah, but still...”
”Misery loves company. Go ahead. Tell me, then.”
”You aren't miserable enough as it is?”
”I think this is about as miserable as it gets, Row.”
”Yeah, I suppose it is.”
”Go on, then. Quit avoiding the question. Share.”
”Well...It's nothing really...I've had a few somewhat unpleasant conversations with your father since yesterday morning.”
”Aye, I can't say that I'm surprised by that.”
”By the way, speaking of that...any insight on the phrase 'an rabe something-or-other'?”
”An riabhach?” she repeated, filling in the blanks.
”Yeah, that sounds about right.”
”Did he call you that?”
”That's the gist I got. A couple of times for sure. Of course, he'd already called me quite a few things I already knew how to translate.”
”It's been bad, then?”
”It hasn't been pleasant. Although, he does have a fairly predictable cycle. He calls, blames me for this, calls me names, demands to know what I'm going to do to fix it but doesn't give me a chance to answer, then I hang up on him. Then he calls back...lather, rinse, repeat.”
My attempt at levity didn't provoke a laugh, or even a smile. She simply sighed and slowly shook her head. ”Well, that phrase means, the evil one.”
I gave her a half shrug. ”Go figure.”
”Aye.”
”So, I guess the fact that he blames me for this isn't any big surprise either.”
”No, I don't suppose it is, given the tension between the two of you, then. But, you should just ignore him. He'll get over it.”
”Trying to. I've been letting the machine grab the phone lately.”
”Good...so, is that what you thought was going to upset me?”
”Yeah.”
”Liar.”
”Excuse me?”
”You're lying. I can tell.”
I'd managed to bluff her in the past, but I guess my acting skills were diminished by my emotional state, or my exhaustion. Actually, it was probably due to both.
”Yeah,” I sighed. ”Okay, so there was something else.”
”What?”
”Well, I guess I should consider it funny, truthfully. Or, I suppose it could be if it weren't so sad... Anyway, what I started to tell you is that once this is all over Shamus wants to have you deprogrammed.” I made the statement as calmly as I could, considering that I was unable to find in it any of the humor I had just espoused.
”That's it?”
”That's not enough?”
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