by P. G. Forte
Heart thundering in her ears, hands shaking, Scout let herself into the house. The elegant foyer with its black and white marble floor and wide, sweeping staircase was just as she remembered it. She put her bags down on the floor and paused for a moment. There was no earthly reason why she should be out of breath; it was silly, really. But she was, just the same.
Faint rustles of sound coming from the back of the house alerted her to the fact that she wasn’t alone. Twin phantom blades of hope and fear twisted in her heart, then dissipated under the weight of logic. Not Lisa, and most likely not an intruder. Caroline’s lawyer had mentioned that at least one of the students who rented rooms in the house would be staying through the summer.
“Hello?” she called loudly. “Is someone here?”
Rapid footsteps answered her call. Moments later, a tall, excitable looking young woman appeared in the hallway. “Oh good, you’re here. He said you would be, but – Omigod!” she broke off with a quick intake of her breath. “Oh, wow, I never realized. Of course. You’re her.”
The last was said with a hand thrown out to gesture, dramatically and compellingly, at the wall next to the front door.
Scout should have known what to expect. Had she been thinking, she might not have turned just then; might not have chosen that moment to confront the larger-than-life portrait that many critics considered one of her father’s finest works.
A searing sense of loss hit her at the sight of it, followed quickly by wonder. How on earth had the girl recognized her from that? She’d been fifteen when she sat for that painting, and Lisa sixteen, less than a year before they’d both left Oberon. Looking at it now, she could see no resemblance to the face that looked back at her from her mirror these days. Those smiling girls with sunburned faces and windblown hair, their arms thrown recklessly around each other’s shoulders, were both long gone.
“I’m Scout,” she said, turning her back to the portrait and extending her hand. “Scout Patterson.”
“Right. And I’m Robyn Smith. One of your housemates.”
It was not exactly how she would have put it. Even assuming she did decide to stay here permanently, which was not a possibility she envisioned, Scout was very sure she wouldn’t need, or want, a housemate. But there was no point in going into that right now. She merely smiled politely. As she shook Robyn’s hand, her glance fell on the dog, an uncertain mix of mostly greyhound, white with reddish brown ears, who had accompanied Robyn to the door.
“Nice to meet you, Robyn. And your dog.”
“Oh, but she’s not mine!” Robyn appeared shocked by the idea. “Come to think of it, I guess she’s yours now, huh? She doesn’t have a name yet, you know. But I guess you can take care of that, now that you’re here.”
Scout stared in surprise. Caroline’s lawyer had said nothing about a dog. “She’s mine?”
“Sure. Just like everything else here, right?”
“Well,” Scout began to disagree, but quickly decided against discussing the terms of Caroline’s will. “I guess,” she ended lamely.
Just what the hell was she supposed to do with a friggin’ dog?
As if in answer to her unspoken question, the dog began to growl softly, turning its head to stare back down the hallway. An instant later, Scout heard it, too. Another set of footsteps were approaching.
She didn’t recognize the man, but he smiled as if they were old friends as he came toward her. He was tall, maybe six-three, with hair the color of tarnished brass. Something about his smile did seem vaguely familiar, but his eyes – the color of beach glass: cool, opaque, unfathomable – were those of a stranger.
“Hey there, Scout,” he murmured. “Been a long time.”
“Glenn?” Scout gasped at the wrench of recognition in her gut. “Holy shit. What the fuck are you doing here?”
He laughed, and his smile grew even wider, but she couldn’t help noticing that the expression still stopped just short of his eyes. “Good to see you, too, sweetheart.”
Scout fell back a step as he reached out to grasp her shoulders, not sure what to do or what to think as he bent and kissed her on the cheek. Expecting a reaction, she was surprised when she felt nothing. Whatever had passed between them all those years ago had apparently left no lingering memory in her body’s cells. Still, the foyer seemed suddenly to have shrunk to the size of a closet around them. Her heart tripped over itself for several beats.
“I think I need a drink.” Her voice emerged squeaky and breathless. She wanted to bite her tongue when she heard herself ask, “I brought some wine with me; would either of you like some?”
Now, why in the hell had she asked that? She really wasn’t looking for company; but on the other hand, she could definitely use a drink. The drive up had been stressful enough. Hell, the whole week had been a regular stress-fest. Coming face to face with Glenn Gilchrist was just so much icing on the Goddamned cake.
Glenn smiled complacently. “Sure, that sounds great.”
She could hear the confident amusement in his tone. An unpleasant flare of some emotion she didn’t want to identify flicked across her nerves. Turning, she led the way into the kitchen. As she uncorked the Merlot, Scout tried to get her bearings. Item one on her agenda was puzzling out Glenn.
“So, Glenn, what in the world are you doing here?”
He shrugged one big shoulder nonchalantly. “Well, word around the office was that you were arriving today, so I thought I’d stop by.”
Scout splashed some wine into the fragile balloon glasses Robyn had taken from the cupboard and sneaked a surreptitious glance at Glenn. He’d always been tall, but now he seemed absolutely massive. “The office?”
“Donahue and Connelly. I’m practically a partner, you know.”
She couldn’t help but gape. “You’re a lawyer?”
“Jeez Scout, you don’t have to sound quite so surprised.” He took the glass she offered him, allowing his fingers to graze slowly across hers as he did so, and leaned casually back against the counter. A small smile hovered on his lips as he watched her.
“I’m not surprised. Exactly.” Scout felt herself flush. Okay, so maybe she had sounded the teensiest bit condescending. She hadn’t meant to. Not really. There was just something about Glenn that always brought out the absolute worst in her.
Suddenly chilly, she rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms. “It’s just – I don’t know, I guess I always imagined that you’d do something more athletic, or something.” Something less cerebral. “I mean, you were always so good at sports, and physical stuff, that I—”
She broke off abruptly as it occurred to her how he might choose to interpret any remark she made about his physical prowess. Damn.
“Uh-huh.” Glenn smiled. His eyes probed deeply into hers. The seconds ticked silently away.
Scout knew what he was up to, and it was really pissing her off. She hadn’t fallen for his act twenty years ago – although she could hardly blame him for thinking she had – she sure as hell wasn’t falling for it now. Still, as the pain and frustration that had been building inside her for days began to mutate into something even more dangerous, more volatile, she had to fight back a sudden urge to accept the challenge he was presenting. To take him on and beat him at his own game.
She’d learned to play quite a few games over the last twenty years. She was very good at them, in fact. But she didn’t want to play anything with Glenn. Been there, done that. No fucking way was she making that mistake again. Once had been more than enough.
She would keep her temper, she told herself firmly. She would find out what he wanted. And then she’d get rid of him. Fast. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
He smiled charmingly. “Why am I here? Maybe I just wanted to see you again. It’s been a long time, but I’ve never forgotten you.”
“Aw, gee, Glenn,” she simpered, as her determination to remain civil dissolved again. “That is sooo sweet. But well, here I am. Now that you’ve seen me, I guess you
can go.”
Emotions flashed across his face. Too many to name, too quickly to count; in an instant they had all been replaced by another wide grin. “Same old Scout,” he chuckled, though she’d swear he hadn’t found her remarks amusing. “You always did have a mouth on you. I remember how much Lisa used to hate that. That, and how smart you were.”
“Yeah, well. Not that smart as it turns out, I guess.” Certainly not smart enough to keep from walking right into that one. Lisa. Shit. The one subject she really didn’t want to discuss with Glenn.
“Oh? You mean you’re not a rocket scientist like everyone always thought you’d be?”
Scout sighed. “Not hardly. These days, I’m mostly into ceramics.”
“Huh?” The look of sheer incomprehension on Glenn’s face was almost comical. Well, that was Glenn for you, wasn’t it? Always one hell of an athlete, but never the sharpest knife, even in a drawer full of mostly spoons.
“Ceramics. You know, like pottery? Clay? I make bowls, pots, coffee mugs, statues. Things like that,” she improvised. Imagining what Larry’s reaction would be to this description of the work he was currently representing in several major art galleries, it was all she could do to suppress a smile.
“Oh, yeah? Is there any money in that?”
She shrugged. “I do all right.”
“Well, see? Something else we have in common. We both enjoy doing the opposite of what people expect us to.”
“Is that why I can’t get an answer to my question, Glory?” Glenn’s old nickname tripped too easily off her tongue. “Because you think I expect one?” She took a sip of wine. And watched him. And waited.
Irritation flashed in Glenn’s eyes. “Okay, look, I heard you were maybe a little upset about your stepmother’s will. Donahue’s an old fart, but I thought perhaps I could help.”
A little upset? Maybe? There was an understatement for you. “How could you help?”
“Well, I don’t know yet. Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you.”
Trust Glenn? Scout studied him for a long, silent moment. She wasn’t sure she could. She was even less sure she wanted to. “How familiar are you with Caroline’s will?” she asked at last.
“I, uh, I had a look at it before I came here,” he admitted. She was unexpectedly diverted. “Is that legal?”
“Do you care?” he asked with a small smile that she couldn’t help returning.
“Not really. No.” She shook her head to clear it. “Okay. So then, you know the terms, right? Lisa and I share everything, unless Lisa is dead. In which case, I get it all. Only, as it turns out, nobody seems to know where Lisa is.” “Is that the problem?” He smiled one of those charming, confident smiles he’d always done so well and leaned nonchalantly against the counter. “Because there are a number of ways to deal with that, as I’m sure Donahue—”
“The problem,” Scout interrupted, “is that until your office contacted me last week, I didn’t even know that Lisa was still missing. I mean, can you believe Caroline kept that little piece of information a secret from me all these years? The few times I saw her, or talked to her – idiot that I was, I just assumed she’d chosen Lisa over me. But that wasn’t it, was it?”
She knew she was ranting, but couldn’t seem to stop. “She just didn’t want me around. After everything that happened, she didn’t want me getting anywhere within miles of Oberon, ever again. And now – how the hell can I allow Donahue to have Lisa declared legally dead? Why not just come right out and say I killed her! It’s the same thing, as far as I’m concerned.”
Glenn looked stunned. “But that’s ridiculous. What are you saying? That it was Caroline’s intention to hurt you? I’m sure that wasn’t the case. I think we all have to accept it. Lisa’s dead. She has to be.”
No! Scout pushed the anguish to the back of her mind and scowled. “Sure, that’s easy for you to say. Nobody’s ever blamed you for what happened to her.”
“Scout, I—”
“Caroline blamed me for all of it. You know damn well she did. And now you expect me to believe she’s changed her mind? She’s left me everything? It can’t be that simple. Why would she do that?”
“Omigod! Are you serious?”
Scout jumped at the sound of Robyn’s voice. Damn, she’d forgotten she was even there.
“Who else would she leave her stuff to? You’re her daughter!”
“Step-daughter,” Scout and Glenn corrected automatically, at the same time.
Robyn rolled her eyes. “Whatever. The point I’m trying to make is that whatever else might have happened, you two were family. Caroline loved you.”
“Oh, please.” Scout shrugged dismissively. “Family? Love? What could you possibly know about that?”
Robyn flushed bright red. “Oh! That – that’s harsh. I don’t know what you think you know about me, but just because I was adopted, it doesn’t mean I don’t have a family.” Her voice shook with emotion. “Just because I didn’t go home for the summer doesn’t mean that I can’t. Or that—” She stopped suddenly, tears gleaming in her eyes.
Scout was mortified. “Oh, hell. Robyn, I didn’t mean that. Look, I’m sorry. I wasn’t talking about you, honest. I was talking about Caroline and me. And you couldn’t possibly know anything about that.”
Robyn wiped at her eyes. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. Our relationship was weird, okay? To be honest, I’m not sure myself how things were between us. And I don’t know why Caroline left things the way she did, but trust me, everything is not what it seems.”
“Maybe. But I lived with Caroline for almost two years, you know. We talked a lot. She told me all sorts of stuff about you and your step-sister. I bet I know more than you think I do.”
“Is that so?” Scout poured herself another glass of wine. Her hands were shaking again, and even the dog was watching her with a worried look on its face. “You know, Robyn, I hate to burst your pretty little bubble, but believe me, Caroline wasn’t always as warm and fuzzy as you’re making her out to be. She talked to you, did she? Well, I’d love to hear how she explained kicking me out of her house when I was sixteen. And less than a week after my dad died, at that. She loved me? How can you say that?”
As old aches stirred to life, Scout glared at the other woman. “For twenty years, we hardly spoke. If she cared so much, then why didn’t she ever invite me to come back – not even for one little visit?”
“Well, probably because she was afraid something might happen to you, right?” Robyn explained carefully, as if she was speaking to a small child. “You know, because of that guy and all.”
Scout looked at Glenn and felt an unexpected surge of empathy. She was sure her face wore a look of blank confusion that was identical to his.
“Uh, Robyn? Exactly what guy would that be?” she prompted.
“The Guy,” Robyn repeated, as though she’d just realized that the small child was also not too terribly bright. “You know. The guy who was after you? I think she was afraid he might have been the same guy who’d kidnapped Lisa.”
Once again, Scout found herself exchanging puzzled looks with Glenn. This time, she let him give voice to the thoughts that she was certain were in both of their minds.
“Lisa wasn’t kidnapped. She ran away.” His voice was as flat and implacable as his gaze. “And, just for the record, this is the first I’m hearing about anyone being ‘after’ Scout.”
For an instant, in the face of Glenn’s surety, Robyn’s confidence faltered. But only for an instant. “Well, maybe... maybe Caroline just didn’t say anything to you about it. Maybe she didn’t want to scare you,” she rallied.
“Scare me with what?” Scout scoffed. “There was no guy. No one was after anybody. There was nothing to be scared of!”
“Well, Caroline thought there was,” Robyn insisted stubbornly. “She said people had been murdered. I think she was afraid you and Lisa had somehow gotten mixed up in it.”
This time, when Scout turned
to look at Glenn, she was surprised to find him gazing at Robyn with a thoughtful, almost speculative look on his face.
“What? Don’t tell me you’re listening to this?” she demanded.
He met her eyes only briefly, before his own slid away. “There were rumors at the time,” he said slowly, his attention seemingly focused on the glass in his hand. “Not that I paid any attention to them, of course.”
“Rumors? You’re kidding? About me and Lisa being murderers?”
“No, of course not. Nothing like that. About some... well... unsavory activities that might or might not have been going on at your school. Devil worship. Blood sacrifices. Ritual killings. Stuff like that.”
“Yeah, right,” Scout scoffed again. “And I was involved in this, how exactly?”
Glenn sighed. “Not you, Scout. The rumors were about some of your friends.”
Back to Top
* * * *
Chapter Three
* * * *
How many times have I dreamed this? Scout wondered as she roamed restlessly through the old house that had once been her home. She slid her fingers gently down the aged oak of a doorframe as she passed through it. Ran a hand lightly across the back of an old leather chair in the library. Paused again in front of the fireplace to admire the play of light upon the red marble hearthstones.
They were not just dreams and memories now, but the things themselves, fresh and real and right there in front of her. Full of details she’d half forgotten. Like the cracked varnish on the roll-top desk, the missing crystal knob on the dining room breakfront, or the clouded glass of the mirror in the downstairs bathroom.
As she made her way from room to room, she ignored the eyes that followed every move she made. Eyes with all the color and compassion of beaten gold. They glared balefully at her from every angle. From the top of the china cabinet. From the landing in the hall. Beneath the dining room table. Behind the piano. Caroline’s cats. All from the same litter, she’d been told. All with the same hard, reproachful, yellow eyes.
