Blood Rubies by Jane K. Cleland Page A

“Please … let me drive or call you a cab.”
    â€œForget it.”
    â€œI can’t.”
    She was not amused. She stomped down the spiral staircase. Two steps down, she slipped and flew outward, landing hard on her bottom three steps down, the backs of her calves slamming into the riser.
    â€œHeather!” I ran to her, stepping around her and going down three more steps. I looked up at her. “Are you all right?”
    Without saying a word, she stood up, grasped the iron railing and walked down the stairs one at a time, placing her feet carefully, consciously. She walked slowly across the warehouse. I trailed behind. When she reached the warehouse door, she ripped it open, sprinted across the office, and darted outside. I stayed close. She was running fast now, faster than I would have thought she could, heading for the woods. The strong midday sunlight penetrated the tall bare trees that stretched high above our heads, dappling the path, lighting the way.
    When we reached the church parking lot, she was half a dozen steps ahead of me. She ran straight for her car, a Lexus. Her chest heaving from her exertion, she poked her car key at the lock, unable to fit it in, forgetting, perhaps, that all she had to do was push the unlock button on the remote.
    When she spotted me coming up behind her, she spun sideways, hurled her key ring into the side garden, crossed her arms over her chest, and said, “Happy now?”
    â€œIt’s okay,” I said, breathing hard. I stood ten feet away from her and patted the air, hoping to reassure her, to communicate that I had no intention of attacking or trapping her.
    She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said so softly I had trouble hearing her. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m sorry.” Her voice lowered further until her words were indistinguishable, a shadow of a sound, a hint of intention. “I’m sorry,” I think she said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She collapsed onto her car’s hood, weeping, her sobs coming in big, gusty waves. A few seconds later, without warning, she began pounding the hood, the thuds echoing and reverberating in the still, dry air. She stopped as suddenly as she started and slid down the car, landing in a heap on the ground, her tears falling silently now. She slapped the pavement; then her fingers curled into fists and she pounded it.
    Ted stepped out of the back door and smiled, glad to see me, unaware of the drama playing out behind the car. His hairline had receded some over the last year, and he’d gained another few pounds on his already comfortable frame. He looked cherubic.
    â€œJosie!” he called. “What a nice surprise.”
    â€œIt’s Heather.” I pointed to where she lay. “She’s pretty upset.”
    His expression shifted from jovial to concerned, and he hurried across the lot to join me at Heather’s car. When he saw her lying on the ground, her hands in loose fists now, still softly pounding the asphalt, he stopped short and looked at me, an unspoken question in his eyes.
    â€œShe walked through the woods to my place. She had a few drinks, enough so I thought she shouldn’t drive. One thing led to another … I don’t know what to do.”
    Ted made a tch-tch sound and reached for Heather’s arms. “It’s all right, my dear. Come inside.”
    Heather didn’t resist him, but she didn’t assist him either. She remained a deadweight. I took one arm while Ted took the other, and together we hoisted her upright and leaned her against the hood. Rivulets of mascara crisscrossed her cheeks. The three of us walked slowly toward the church. Inside, Ted led the way to the kitchen, a cheerful old-fashioned room.
    As Ted got her situated at the round oak table, I said, “I’ll get her keys. She tossed them in the bushes.”
    â€œGood idea,” Ted said, squatting