M Sellars - Miranda

The reflection staring back at me from the large mirror was a train wreck. My eyes were half-lidded with a desperate need for sleep, which only served to deepen the semi-circular shadows of exhaustion already evident beneath them. While the paramedics had cleaned away some of the blood in a futile attempt to find a wound that was all but gone before they ever arrived, my clothing wasn’t the only part of me still sporting the darkening residue. I had smears on the side of my face and down my neck as well as a good amount in my hair.

I placed my palms against the vanity for support then closed my eyes and allowed my head to hang as I muttered, “Why me?” It wasn’t the first time I’d asked the universe that question, and judging from the notable lack of response, it probably wouldn’t be the last.

After a few moments of quiet self-pity, I huffed out a breath then pushed back from the vanity and stripped off my shirt. For a moment I considered soaking it in the sink but then decided it just wasn’t worth the effort, so I tossed it into the waste can. The garment was clearly beyond redemption, and I was beginning to feel like maybe I was too.

After drenching a washcloth in a stream of hot water, I began washing the dried blood off my face. By the second pass it was apparent that I definitely had my work cut out where cleaning up was concerned. At least this time there wasn’t a wound that needed tending, which was more than I could say for some of my other adventures.

I sighed at my reflection as I began to feel sorry for myself once again, then muttered aloud, “Don’t even go there, Gant…”

I knew I couldn’t keep putting off the inevitable, so as I started rinsing the washcloth with one hand, I plucked my cell phone from my belt with the other, flipped it open with my thumb then scrolled through the stored contacts and dialed a number. I was just starting a fourth round with the wet rag when Doctor Jante’s voice issued from the speaker and into my ear, so I stopped scrubbing and shut off the water.

“Mister Gant,” she said, her tone noticeably cool. “Given our earlier discussion, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you quite this soon, if at all.”

“Believe me, I didn’t expect to be calling.”

“I’m sure.”

I was operating under the assumption that she was still just as interested in having me meet with Annalise again as I now needed to be. But, by the same token I was also well aware that I was preparing to start across a bridge I’d all but set ablaze earlier in the day. Therefore, I swallowed my pride and endeavored to douse any remnants of the fire.

“Look, I need to apologize,” I told her. “I know we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms this afternoon, and I’m truly sorry for my role in that.”

“Accepted. Now, are you merely calling to apologize, or should I assume this also means you’ve changed your mind?”

“About the meeting, actually, yes. I would like for you to go ahead and arrange that, if it’s still on the table.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“Then I guess I have to figure out how to talk you into it again, which admittedly won’t be easy for me. So, I’m hoping I don’t have to.”

She paused for a moment and then said, “Do you mind if I ask why this sudden change of heart?”

“I’m working on a theory.”

“I see. Is this theory something we should know, Mister Gant?”

“I’m not really sure just yet,” I replied. “Can you tell me if Annalise is monitored at all?”

“Yes she is. Why do you ask?”

I glanced at my watch and did a quick mental calculation. “Because if it’s possible, I’d like to find out who she was roughly an hour and a half ago. Annalise or Miranda.”

“Why is that important?”

“Let’s just say it has something to do with that uncanny intuition thing you’re so interested in.”

“Mister Gant…”

“Listen, Doctor Jante, I’m honestly not trying to start another argument with you. Believe me, I’ve had more than enough drama for one day. But, this is very important and not all that easy for me to explain.”

She sighed. “Well, I’m not currently at the facility. Let me make a call and see what I can do about arranging the meeting. Where are you now?”

“My hotel room. I’ll be here for a while, but I’ll have my cell with me if I leave.”

“Give me a few minutes to see what can be arranged, and I will call you back.”

“Thanks,” I told her. “And don’t forget to find out about who she was.”

“I’ll try,” she agreed. “But that’s something that may be hard to determine depending upon the circumstances.”

“I understand,” I said, nodding as I spoke, simply from force of habit. “But if it’s at all possible, it’s very important that I find out.”

“Can I assume you’ll give me a more coherent explanation about all of this in the not too distant future?”

“Yes, as soon as I can give you one, I will. I promise.”

“Fine then. I’ll call you back as soon as I know something.”

“Thanks.”

I closed the phone and laid it aside before returning to the cleanup task at hand. Less than five minutes later the device was warbling out an electronic peal. This time the conversation was exceptionally brief, and while I still didn’t end up with an answer to my question, I did have a scheduled meeting with Miranda at 10 the next morning. Now, I desperately needed to start worrying about exactly what I was going to do once I was back in the same room with her.

I absently clipped the phone onto my belt and then started back in on the task of trying to make myself presentable. Unfortunately, the face staring back at me from the mirror really wasn’t looking much better than it had when I started. Giving in to the futility, I tossed the now pinkish washcloth aside and headed for the shower.

As I stood under the steaming jets of water, I forced myself to relax in hopes that would help me formulate a strategy. Of course, I was also well aware that even my best-laid plans were virtually guaranteed to go astray. I had too many years of anecdotal evidence to support that fact. Even so, I gave it a try. And, as always I kept coming back around to one fundamental issue: Above all else, I had to keep Felicity safe.

The real question was how.

“You ain’t bleedin’ all over my girlfriend again, are ya’?” Ben asked. The question sounded half serious and came in place of a simple hello when he answered my call.

Without missing a beat I replied, “If I was, I probably wouldn’t be the one calling you, now would I?”

“Yeah, well stranger shit has happened where you’re concerned.”

“Yeah, I guess it has,” I agreed. “Well, don’t worry. I haven’t done any bleeding since lunch.”

“Good,” he grunted. “You had Constance a bit worried.”

“Really? She seemed to handle it like a pro.”

“That’s ‘cause she’s a copper,” he replied. “She is a pro. We deal with shit then worry about it later. It’s part of the job. So listen, if you’re callin’ about a body, we still don’t have one yet. Not that I’ve heard, anyway. But if ya’ got any ideas where we should look, I’m more’n happy ta’ listen.”

“No, not yet.”

“Okay…” he said with a questioning note in his voice, then allowed a short pause to hang in the air before pressing, “Okay… So, are ya’ callin’ about that necklace again? ‘Cause it’s still right here in my pocket.”

“That’s good to know,” I replied. “But, no, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else.”

“Okay, spit it out, white man. You called me, remember? I ain’t in the mood ta’ play twenty questions.”