by P. G. Forte
“Forget her,” she snapped at him the last time he’d asked. “You’ll never find her. She’s gone.”
“But... isn’t she ever coming back?” he’d asked despairingly.
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” she told him with a harsh, humorless laugh, as she closed the door in his face. “Not for a very long time.”
Well, she’d got that right, Nick thought bitterly. It had been a fucking lifetime.
Twenty years. Shit. Anyone would think he’d be over her by now. Hell, even he had thought he was over her. Mostly. Until today, when he’d come face to face with her again, and finally realized what he should have figured out a long time ago. He’d never be over her.
Not ever in this life.
He climbed into his car and headed for home. He had the road all to himself for most of the way, which was just how he liked it. Watching the needle push past ninety, watching the scenery blur by the windows, feeling the blast of noise from his stereo vibrate through him, as adrenaline mixed with the caffeine and nicotine already in his bloodstream.
The closest thing to perfect that he knew.
With the shattering clarity that came at times like these, he was conscious of a hot flood of determination smoldering within him. Had it always been there? Or was it just the product of the last few days? Only one thing was certain. Now that he had seen her again, he wanted her as much as he ever had.
If she’d stayed in Oberon twenty years ago, he’d have had a hell of a time keeping away from her – even at the risk of losing his job and going to jail. He didn’t care if the risk this time was of going to hell itself. He had to have her.
By the time he got back to town, his mind was consumed with dark, bitter rage and furious need. He drove past the station and on through town without even slowing, until he was back on her block. The house looked dark and empty as he passed by, but there was an old van parked in the driveway, and when he saw a flutter of movement near the front porch he swung back around for a second look. He could have sworn it was that son-of-a-bitch, skulking around again. Glenn.
“Oh, please, oh please, oh please, oh please,” he muttered between clenched teeth; his tires squealing as he forced the car back through the turn in the road without braking. “Let it be him. Let it please be that sorry ass bastard!”
He so very much wanted to smash his fist into something, and at this moment there was nothing he would have enjoyed smashing it into more than Glenn’s fat face. But he must have been mistaken. He saw nothing out of the ordinary on either the second, or the third, or the fourth pass he made. On the fifth pass, he saw a curtain drawn briefly aside in the next house over, and reluctantly gave up for the night.
No sense in calling any more attention to himself than necessary. He was quite capable of making a fool of himself all on his own. He didn’t need some concerned citizen calling in a complaint about a suspicious vehicle in the area.
He drove slowly back through town, his windows rolled down, sucking deeply on a cigarette, as he thought about what to do next. He’d have to think of something. And damn fast, too. Because he couldn’t go on like this. This was no good. This was gonna make him nuts in no time at all.
Back to Top
* * * *
Chapter Nineteen
* * * *
The Totawka Brewery was a dark, noisy barn of a place, with sawdust covering the old wooden floorboards, the rich smells of hops, mesquite and whiskey mingling in the air. A vaguely country-western band was playing at a volume that made conversation nearly impossible.
A hopeful, anticipatory mood engulfed Scout as she looked around. This was the kind of place they used to try to sneak into with their fake ID’s when they were teenagers. In fact, she had the strangest feeling she might actually have gotten in here once or twice back then. Only then, of course, it wouldn’t have been a microbrewery.
“Well?” Marsha shouted in her ear. “What do you think?”
Scout beamed back at her approvingly, and sneaked a glance at Lucy. She, too, was looking around with an expression of grudging enjoyment on her face. Their gazes met; Lucy shrugged and rolled her eyes, but for once she wasn’t scowling.
“That’s better!” Marsha shouted approvingly. “C’mon, you two. Let’s get a table. I’m starving.”
“Marsha, I don’t know why you wanted to drag us all the way out here,” Lucy told her when they were seated at a booth in the slightly quieter back room and the waitress had taken their drink order. “It’s a hell of a funny place for a vegetarian to pick, that’s all I can say.”
“Are you both vegetarians now?” Scout asked, a little nervously. She’d been thinking of ordering a steak, but she was already feeling wrung out from her unexpected meeting with Nick. If it meant taking more grief from Lucy, she’d be happy to take a pass on the beef.
“No,” Lucy said shortly. “Just her.”
“Order whatever you want, Scout,” Marsha said reassuringly. “I don’t claim any sort of moral superiority. It’s just a personal choice.”
“She’s been like this since her accident,” Lucy said, sighing a little as she twirled her fork between her fingers. “I think she had some kinda hallucination about a cow or something while she was in her coma. Or maybe it was a chicken.”
“Lucy. It wasn’t a cow or a chicken,” Marsha replied with some asperity. “And it wasn’t an hallucination, either. It was a vision. A profound spiritual experience, which brought me face to face with my personal guardian. My Power Animal. And as I’ve told you many times before, I have no intention of revealing exactly what form she took. So quit fishing.”
“Ahh. A fish, huh? Was that it?”
Marsha smiled. “You’ll never know. Anyway, I like this place, you know? It’s got great energy. And for your information, they make killer nachos.”
“Well, I’m going to have the whiskey-mesquite ribs and a side of fried green tomatoes. As usual,” Lucy announced, closing her menu emphatically. She hesitated a moment, and then, rather reluctantly it seemed, turned to Scout and inquired politely, “So, uh, what are you thinking of having, Scout?”
“I thought... maybe a steak?”
“Uh, huh. That sounds good. Sirloin or porterhouse?”
“The ten-ounce sirloin with the burgundy onions,” Scout told her. “And maybe some garlic fries.”
Lucy nodded. “Oh, yeah, I love those. And, you know, the fried baby artichokes are very nice, too.”
“Mmm. I haven’t had any of those in years. How are the salads here, by the way?”
Lucy appeared to consider the matter for several minutes. “Well, the Caesar is nice, but the Cobb salad is pretty boring, and I haven’t tried the spinach salad yet. Maybe Marsha could tell you.”
“Christ,” Marsha muttered. Their drinks had arrived and she took a long sip from her margarita. “I know I said you guys should be civil to each other, but you’re both being so damn sweet it’s making my teeth hurt. You’re also boring me to tears. Can’t you relax a little bit? We’re here to have fun, remember?”
“I don’t know, Marsha,” Scout said. “Having fun was your idea. I’m not sure Lucy and I are really up to having fun together yet.”
“Yeah, if ever,” Lucy chimed in. “This might be as good as it gets. Anyway, this business with Robyn has me way too upset to even think about having fun. You really think something bad’s happened to her, don’t you?”
Marsha nodded unhappily. “It doesn’t feel good, Luce. That’s why I called the cops. Oh, and by the way, I gotta tell you, when I talked to her tonight, Celeste happened to mention that Paige Delaney was in the shop this afternoon. Asking questions.”
“Asking about Robyn? Already?” Lucy frowned in surprise. “Shit. What is the deal with that woman? She’s like a fucking shark. You’d think she could scent blood in the water from clear across the globe or something,” she broke off on a shudder. “I swear, don’t know why she gets to me like she does, but... damn.”
Marsha grinn
ed suddenly. “She really pushes your buttons, doesn’t she? Maybe it’s some horrible, unresolved past-life trauma or something. ‘Cause, whatever it is, it’s mutual. She’s not real fond of you, either.”
“Yeah?” Lucy looked briefly interested. “Well, good. I was never sure if she was just always amused at how pissed off I get when she’s around, or what.”
“No, she’s definitely not amused,” Marsha assured her, looking serious again. “And Celeste was not exactly amused this evening, either. In fact, I’ve never heard her sound quite so rattled. I know she’s still totally unpredictable with the cards, but those were tea leaves she was reading Saturday, and now today, I think she’d been reading her own.”
“Yeah, this whole thing has a real bad feel to it,” Lucy agreed, drumming her fingers on the table pensively for a moment. “I suppose you’re sticking to your story, too?” she asked, shooting a mutinous glance at Scout. “Nothing happened Monday night? Robyn didn’t say anything? You guys didn’t have a fight?”
“What would you like me to say, Lucy? ‘Oh, gee. You’re right. I’ve been lying?’ What do you think? Maybe I killed her, or something?” Scout regarded her former friend angrily. “Trust me. If I was going to come all the way back to Oberon just to commit murder, I sure wouldn’t have picked a perfect stranger for my first victim. Not when I’m surrounded with people I already know who I wouldn’t mind bumping off.”
“Good,” Marsha said encouragingly, pausing to gulp down some more margarita. “That’s much better. You two have lots of issues. You need to get them off your chests. Might as well be now. I really think you guys’ll both feel better after you’ve talked this stuff out.”
Lucy sighed. “I don’t know, Marsha. It’s a nice thought, but I don’t really want to talk to her all that much. No offense, Scout, but I mostly just want to kill you, too.”
“Yeah, yeah, welcome to the club.”
“You know, another thing I like about this place,” Marsha mused. “It’s so loud. I’m sure no one will mind, or even particularly notice, if the two of you were to start screaming at each other.”
Uh-oh. Scout eyed them both warily. Was that what this was about? Just when she’d been lulled into thinking they could be friends again. Would she never learn?
“Good thinking, Marsha.” Lucy sounded as unhappy about the suggestion as Scout. “I’m sure the last thing either of us wants is for someone to get upset with all the noise we’re making and call the cops, again.” She turned on Scout, and asked challengingly. “Or would we?”
Scout smiled at her coldly. “Are you just making conversation, Lucy? Or do you actually have something you want to say to me about your cousin?”
Lucy’s face assumed a look of mock surprise. “Who, Nick? Oh, that’s right! You two knew each other, didn’t you? I keep forgetting how you told me all about it.”
“You know damn well why I didn’t tell you anything about that,” Scout grumbled.
“Because you were such a bitch?” Lucy suggested sweetly.
“No. Because you’d have opened your big mouth and fucked everything up.”
“Yeah?” Fury sparked in Lucy’s eyes. “You want to talk about big mouths?”
Scout ripped a long strip of label from her beer bottle. “Oh, please, let’s.”
“Cause I don’t recall that I was the one who spilled the beans to Sister Ben, or to my cousin either, about our little math project.”
“Having problems with the famous memory, are you?” Scout snapped. “It’s funny, but I don’t remember your telling me about our little math project either. Not until after I’d blacked out in the middle of class because of it. And don’t you ever dare call it our project to me again. I was never in on your damn project. I was just your goddamn guinea pig!”
Marsha gurgled as she drained the last of her margarita, and Scout couldn’t tell if she was laughing or choking. She glanced at Lucy, who appeared momentarily speechless. “Ooh. A hit, a palpable hit. I think I have to give that round to Scout, Luce. She’s got us there.”
And though the words were spoken lightly, Scout could not detect much humor in her tone.
The waitress returned with their food just then, and Marsha ordered another round of drinks for all of them.
“Look, Lucy,” Scout said at last, breaking the silence, “The truth is, I don’t know why I told them everything like I did. It was just... your cousin was there and I... I lost it. It was a crappy thing to do. I’m not saying it wasn’t. But they kept asking me questions and... for as long as they did, I kept right on answering them. I don’t know, maybe I was in shock or something? I just couldn’t seem to make myself shut up. I had been trying so hard to keep everyone from finding out about Nick and me, and then there he was. And I knew it was all over between us. The rest is just a big blur.”
Marsha nodded understandingly. “Repressed memory. Happens all the time with trauma victims.”
“What?” Lucy nearly choked on her beer. She turned on Marsha. “Repressed memory? Trauma? Are you nuts? Sounds to me like she remembers everything just fine.”
Marsha shrugged. “Not really. It’s kind of like the other day with, uh, you know, Mandy? She hadn’t remembered anything about that, either. Did you, Scout? Until afterwards, I mean?”
“No,” Scout answered, shuddering as she thought about it. “You’re right. I didn’t remember any of it.”
Marsha’s gaze was compassionate, her voice quiet. “I have a feeling there’s a whole lot you don’t remember yet. It’s really not that uncommon, Luce. Take my accident, for example. I can’t remember why I went over that cliff. Was there another car? I don’t know. Maybe I swerved to avoid an animal in the road.”
“Yeah, maybe it was your power animal,” Lucy suggested. “Maybe what you thought was a vision is just a repressed memory of having run it over. Which would really explain the whole vegetarian thing, too, if you ask me.”
Marsha grinned. “Oh, I don’t think so, Luce. That would be extremely unlikely. On either count, actually.
“But forget that.” She turned her glittering green eyes toward Scout. “I’m dying of curiosity here. I can’t believe you two have been holding out on me like this. What’s the deal with you and Nick?”
“Remember back in high school,” Lucy asked, answering before Scout had a chance to open her mouth. “How we all knew she was seeing someone but we didn’t know who it was? Turns out it was Nick.”
“You’re kidding?” Marsha looked impressed. “I mean, wow! He’s cute and all, but he must have been, what, twenty-two? Twenty-three?”
“He was twenty-two,” Scout answered quietly.
“Well, what the hell was he thinking, running around with a fifteen-year old?”
“Obviously he didn’t know she was only fifteen,” Lucy snapped. She gave Scout a withering glance. “She lied to him. Big surprise.”
Scout nodded. “He thought I was nineteen or twenty. He got the idea I was going to the Community College, and I didn’t tell him otherwise. And anyway, I was sixteen.”
“Just barely. And it wasn’t only your age you were lying about either, was it?” Lucy asked.
Scout sighed. “Well, no. I also had to lie about where I was going to school, of course. And about my family, ‘cause, you know he wanted to know why we couldn’t go out like normal people. And about why I didn’t drive. And my name.”
“So, basically, it was all a scam.”
“That’s not how it felt at the time, But yeah, I guess. I had to lie about pretty much everything.”
“Well, you have a real talent in that direction.” Marsha beamed admiringly. “I’ve always said so.”
“Shit, Marsha, you make it sound like an achievement or something.” Lucy scowled. “Believe me, she’s got nothing to be proud of here.”
“Well, Luce, you gotta admit it’s pretty damn useful at times. So, uh, where did Glenn fit into all of this?”
“She was screwing both of them, of course,” Lucy said, answer
ing for her again. Scout was beginning to get a little annoyed with that.
“I wasn’t even seeing Glenn,” Scout said. “Not really. I just – I just needed a way to divert everyone’s attention. Glenn agreed to give me a hand.”
Lucy snorted. “I’ll bet he did. Both hands, would be my guess. As well as a few other body parts.”
Scout ignored her and turned to Marsha. “To tell you the truth, I couldn’t believe how easily you all fell for it. You knew I could never understand what everyone saw in Glenn.”
“What we saw in him? That’s funny. I was wondering the same thing myself, just this afternoon.” Marsha smiled at her. “But he was so cute then. You have to admit that. He and his whole family were like... local celebrities. Everybody knew about the Gilchrists. Plus, he was captain of the swim team. And that was back when they actually won occasionally.” She turned to Lucy. “Remember all the fuss when he dropped swimming altogether and decided to train for the biathlon? I mean, skiing? Here? What was up with that?”
“Yeah,” Lucy agreed. “The shooting part didn’t go over too well, either, as I recall. But you know, in a way it was just typical. I mean, the reason everybody knew about his family was because they’ve always been so weird.”
“That’s true.” Marsha chuckled. “Remember his mother? Anyway, he’s still kind of cute. Don’t you think? In a weird, wounded sort of way.”
“Oh, I suppose.” Scout shrugged. “But he’s still not my type. I mean, didn’t anyone remember that I was the one who kept saying how Lisa should dump him?”
“Well, sure.” Lucy nodded. “That was why. We figured you were just saying that because you wanted him for yourself.”
“Wait, I don’t understand,” Marsha interrupted. “If you weren’t really involved with Glenn, why did Lisa think you were sleeping with him? I mean, why didn’t one of you just tell her you weren’t?”
