Love Is The Bond: A Rowan Gant Investigation Read Free Page B

for specialized photographic
techniques that the regular crime scene unit doesn’t do. Infrared,
ultraviolet, painting with light, and that sort of thing. Primarily
for evidence.”
    “So you would never be photographing dead
bodies?”
    “Well, maybe not never .” She shrugged. “I suppose it all depends
on what they need then.”
    “Well, don’t you think you should give this a
little more thought?”
    “Why?”
    “Maybe because when you look through a camera
lens, you see things most people don’t.”
    “Then I should be pretty good at it,
shouldn’t I.” She was telling, not asking.
    “Probably too good. That’s what I mean… Think
about who you are for a minute.”
    “Who I am? What do you mean by that?”
    “Come on, you’re a Witch.”
    “So are you. What’s that got to do with
anything?”
    “Gods, Felicity!” I exclaimed. “Are you
trying to tell me the last few years have only been my imagination?
Because if you are, I’m not buying it.”
    “You’re the one who carries on conversations
with the dead, Row, not me.”
    “Excuse me?” It was my turn to raise an
eyebrow. “What do you think I meant about looking through a camera?
Besides, have you forgotten your last little brush with the
ethereal?”
    “That was different.”
    “Really? Do tell.”
    “Kimberly was my friend. We had a connection.
And, besides, that was more than two years ago.”
    “Twenty-five months, today,” I offered.
“And don’t tell me you didn’t know that. The two year anniversary
was marked on your friggin’ calendar. That’s how I knew.”
    “What were you doing looking at my calendar?”
she barked.
    “Checking to see if you were free so I could
surprise you with a night out,” I shot back. “You know, dinner.
Symphony. Maybe even a hotel room just to be different…”
    She closed her eyes and gave her head a quick
shake. “I’m sorry. I was out of line.”
    “You were evading the subject is what you
were doing,” I replied.
    “Yes, well, Kimberly’s death has nothing to
do with this.”
    “Yeah… Right…” I nodded as I paused, then
fixed her with a serious stare. “You know, I thought the same thing
after the first time it happened to me… Ariel Tanner was my friend,
and I figured that pretty much had to be the reason for all the
ethereal bullshit I was dealing with… I spent a lot of time trying
to convince myself of that… You know that… But then… Well, we both
know how that worked out, don’t we?”
    Her gaze softened a bit. I could tell by the
look on her face that my reference had hit home. The first homicide
case I’d ever been dragged into by the spirit of the victim had
affected her as well. Ariel had been my student of The Craft as
well as a good friend to both of us. And, unfortunately, she was
but one of a series of victims who were brutally tortured and
murdered by a serial killer bent on a misguided quest that I still
didn’t understand. I didn’t know that I ever would, but it haunted
me on a daily basis, and that was bad enough.
    Finding and stopping her killer hadn’t really
brought me the peace I so desperately sought. In fact, it seemed
more as if it had created a permanent connection between the other
side of the veil and me, and ever since then the voices of the dead
had become a constant din in my ears.
    A few years later when Felicity’s friend,
Kimberly Forest, was murdered, my wife ventured down that very same
path with the same devastating results. I knew it was taking a
toll, even now after all this time.
    “Aye, but even you haven’t had anything major
happen since Kimberly either,” Felicity countered. “Maybe it’s
over, Rowan. Maybe we can finally get back to a normal life.”
    I closed my eyes then reached up and pinched
the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. I could feel
a headache coming on. It was hovering directly between my eyes, but
unlike some of the ethereally induced pains I’d faced over the
years, I was