“Have you spoken to Felicity about it?”

“No.”

“You need to.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I will when things calm down a bit.”

“Good,” she offered with a nod then extracted a fresh cigarette and lit it before changing the subject. “So, what about Constance? Is she well? She seemed to be fine when she attended the funeral service with Benjamin.”

I hadn’t even given thought to calling Agent Mandalay, Constance, when I had spoken of her earlier, even though we certainly knew one another well enough. I suppose I was so caught up in the story that the informality hadn’t had a chance to creep in. Of course, it stood to reason that Helen would use her first name since the petite federal agent had been in an on-again, off-again relationship with her brother for more than a year.

“She’s fine. Felicity mainly just managed to stun her enough that she could get her own handcuffs on her,” I explained then quickly added, “Don’t spread that around.”

“Of course not. Are there going to be any repercussions?”

“I don’t think so. Constance actually pulled some strings and so did Ben, so there weren’t any charges filed. However…”

I felt, as much as heard my own voice trail off into silence.

“However, what, Rowan?”

“Your brother told me something when we were out looking for Felicity that night. Apparently, they found long red hairs at both crime scenes. The Wentworth scene could have been a fluke since she was physically there taking the photos, but she was never actually inside the room at the Hobbes scene, and they were there too.”

“Did he tell you they were definitely from Felicity?”

“No, but they took a few samples from her for comparison when they had her in custody, and we haven’t heard anything yet. In fact, ever since that day we’ve been persona non grata as far as the investigation goes. They’ve made no secret of the fact that they consider Felicity a “person of interest”, but they haven’t gone so far as to call her a suspect. At least not yet.”