M Sellars - Miranda

“By you or by someone farther up the food chain?” I asked.

“The concerns came from higher up.”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised.” I shook my head. No longer caring about secrets, I spat, “So since this lab rat isn’t behaving the way you want him to, you’re ending the experiment.”

She glared at me. “That option is being seriously considered.”

“Then why the hell am I even standing here arguing with you?” I barked, raising my voice slightly. “Why did you bother to set this meeting up in the first place if you weren’t going to let it happen?”

I was now attracting the attention of staff as well as a group of other visitors that had entered the lobby area. Jante shot me a hard look then grabbed me by the arm and pulled me aside.

In a hushed voice she demanded, “Calm down, please. Your lack of self-control is the primary concern.”

“It didn’t seem to be an issue yesterday.”

“Actually, it was for some.”

“Well, if you think this is a lack of self-control, then you haven’t seen anything yet,” I growled. “Now, why don’t you answer my question?”

“Mister Gant, you’re here because even with the concerns, you still have your advocates.”

“Lucky me,” I returned, tone still edgy. “Listen, I think I made it crystal clear yesterday that I wasn’t all that excited about being the subject of an experiment to begin with, but now I’ve had enough of this bullshit. So, if you need to take a vote or something, then get on the horn and do it; because, if all we’re going to do is stand here and argue, I’m done.”

“Excuse me,” Constance said, interjecting herself into the close quarters conversation. “Sorry to interrupt, but I think you both need to hear this. That call was Detective Storm in Saint Louis. They found a body that fits with what Rowan predicted.”

“And that would be?” Doctor Jante replied.

“Mid to late twenties with what appears to be a bite mark on her neck,” I announced. “And she will have been exsanguinated.”

“Yes,” Constance confirmed. “Except it’s he, not she. The victim is male.”

“Male?” I questioned, furrowing my brow.

“Yes,” she replied. “I know the gender is a deviation, but listen to me-there are a couple of other things you need to know. Unlike the women killed last month, his body also shows signs of extreme physical tortures which are consistent with the type found on many of Miranda’s victims.”

“She’s sending a message,” I said.

Constance added, “And it’s addressed to you, Rowan. There was something protruding from his mouth. An Emerald Photographic Services business card.”

As if the signs of torture weren’t obvious enough, my wife’s business card drove the point home.

“Dammit,” I muttered. “Felicity?”

“Ben already checked. Detective McLaughlin is with her and everything is fine.”

“Good,” I said then brought a spate of calm sarcasm to bear on Jante. “Well, Doc, is that enough confirmation for you?”

“Fine,” she said, voice flat. “I’ll have you escorted over.”

“Great,” I returned, my tone just as businesslike. I looked over at Constance and asked, “While I’m in there, would you mind doing me a couple of favors?”

“Of course. What do you need?”

“First, call Ben back and ask if he can get Charlee to stay with Felicity until I get home.”

“You mean overnight?”

“Actually, no, that’s the second favor. See if you can either change our tickets to something that will get us out of here as soon as possible, or buy new ones if you have to. I’ll pay whatever it costs.”

“I can do that,” she replied.

“Thanks,” I told her then turned back to Doctor Jante. “Where can I get some bottled water and some salt around here?”

She wrinkled her brow and asked, “Why?”

“It’s an intuition thing,” I replied.

“There’s a vending machine on the way over,” she offered, shaking her head. “I’ll have to see what I can do about the salt.”

“I appreciate it. Oh, and I’m going to need something else from you too.”

“And that would be?”

“A waiver of the visitation restrictions because I’m taking the water in there with me.”

A smug grin tweaked Miranda’s drawn face as she was led into the interview room. Following the same procedure as the day before, I was waiting for her in my seat at the table. Her escort disconnected her handcuffs from the Martin chain around her waist and then guided her into the chair opposite me.

“So…you decided to come back,” Miranda said, cocking her head to see me around the corrections officer who was reconnecting her handcuffs to the ring on the table.

A purplish bruise wrapped almost halfway around her thin neck. The garish colors were mottled and faded toward the edges, but a solid, dark area of discoloration was evident where my thumb had pressed into her windpipe. It didn’t take any imagination at all to see my own handprint in the outline of the contusion.

“You knew I would,” I said.

“Of course. You missed me.”

I shrugged. “No. Not really.”

“Face it, little man. You are obsessed with me.”

“I’ll give you that,” I nodded. “But it’s definitely a different kind of obsession than what you would like to believe.”

“What do you think?” she asked, executing a disjointed change of subject. She pointed her chin upward and turned her head slightly so as to call attention to the large bruise. “I wore it just for you.”

“I see.”

“Tell me, little man,” she continued. “Do you abuse your wife too, or is it just me who gets to be the lucky one?”

I let out a carefully measured sigh but chose to hold my tongue.

Without missing a beat, she returned to the original subject. “Getting back to Felicity, how does she feel about this lurid preoccupation of yours? Is she jealous of me?”

“Actually, she’s okay with it,” I replied.

“Of course she is,” Miranda replied. “Because she knows you will bring us together again.”

“That’s not going to happen.” I reached out and lifted the bottle of salt water from the table and unscrewed the cap. I’d downed a full one before ever walking into the room, and something told me I’d likely drain this one before I walked out.

“Salt water?” Miranda asked, nodding toward the bottle in my hand.

“Yes. Want some?”

“I thought we talked about this. That will not work on me.”

“Doesn’t really matter,” I replied. “It isn’t for you. It’s for me.” I took a long swallow and then carefully replaced the cap, never breaking eye contact with her.

She didn’t even blink, but I could tell by her silence that this was a move she hadn’t expected. I knew she was trying to get inside me, just as she had done yesterday. I could feel it. My head was throbbing, and there was even a slight tingle pricking my skin. But none of it was anywhere near the intensity of the day before.

My defenses were up and holding. The pain was manageable so far. It seemed the infusion of salt was working for the moment, but I had the distinct feeling that it was nothing more than a stopgap. Given enough time, Miranda would find a way around it.

“Don’t you want her to be happy?” she pressed, moving on.

I dipped my head in a shallow nod. “You know I do.”

“Well then, why are you trying so hard to keep us apart?”

“Obviously I’m doing more than just trying.”

“Which means you do not really love her. If you did, then you would not stand between us.”

“Why is that, Miranda?”

“Because I can give her so much more than you. I can make her happy in ways that you cannot fathom.”