Oberon Boxed Set (Books 1-3) Welcome to Oberon

by P. G. Forte

  “Might be hard to get a firm ID on the phone,” Nick said. And then paused. “But I tell you what. As it happens, I’m not working tomorrow. And I’m probably more familiar with the shelter locations than you are, anyway. If you don’t have a car, I could, I don’t know, maybe drive you around to a few of them?”

  “You mean... you want to go there together?” Scout struggled to keep her voice level. She felt the blood rushing to her face, pounding in her ears.

  “I have a few hours I could spare. It would have to be first thing in the morning, though.” Nick’s voice held all the softness of wrought iron. “But if you think it would be helpful...”

  “Yeah. Okay,” Scout said weakly. “Sure.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you about nine then.” The cool crispness of his voice was almost instantly replaced with a dial tone, but it was several moments before Scout dropped the receiver back in its cradle.

  He had called. She stared up into the darkness. A small smile slowly lifted the corners of her mouth. She would see him tomorrow.

  The coldness in his eyes today, the indifference in his voice just now, what did they matter? They did nothing to disguise the flimsiness of the excuse he’d used. Help her check the shelters for her dog? Oh, please. What the hell was that all about?

  He wanted to see her. An incredulous thrill of delight tingled through her. After all this time, he still—

  It had to mean he wanted to see her, didn’t it?

  Lucy was going to have her hide for this, but Scout didn’t care. She’d deal with Lucy when the time came.

  Rolling over onto her stomach, she groaned her impatience into the pillow. Tomorrow. She couldn’t wait until tomorrow. She stretched out against the cool sheets and wished that she knew his phone number, or had the nerve to call him back with some equally pointless excuse, just to hear his voice again.

  He had called. She would see him again. Tomorrow.

  If she could only fall asleep right now, so that it would be morning before she knew it. But she knew it would never happen that way. She knew she would lie awake for hours imagining what other surprises tomorrow might bring.

  * * *

  Nick stared at the phone long after he had hung up, berating himself for being a fool.

  This was a mistake. He had known it the instant he heard her voice, all soft and breathless. The way it always sounded in his dreams. If she sounded like that when he picked her up tomorrow, he couldn’t even imagine what he might do. Shit. He should have listened to his cousin.

  “Stay away from her, Nick,” Lucy had warned. “She’s nothing but trouble. And I do know what I’m talking about here. If you get involved with her, mark my words, cuz, sooner or later, you’re gonna regret it.”

  Well, he already regretted it, but what could he do? He couldn’t leave it alone. He had to see her again. He had to at least try to find a way to break the hold she had on him. He closed his eyes and saw her again, the way she looked that last afternoon they’d had together, staring up at him with lust and longing in her eyes.

  He had to have her.

  He knew there was no point in thinking like that. It wasn’t going to happen. At least not tonight. But a tiny voice kept insisting anyway. She’d wanted him. He would go to his grave believing that. No matter what other lies she told him. Whatever else she’d made him believe, and whatever else had happened, she’d wanted him that day, every bit as much as he’d wanted her.

  Still, twenty years was a hell of a long time to carry a torch for someone. And what were the odds they were both that crazy? Perhaps the best thing he could do tomorrow would be to wipe the slate clean and pretend that they’d only just met. It wasn’t so far from the truth.

  They could start over as strangers, and it would still be okay. Because even twenty years later, he was sure he could make her want him again. Or at least he was pretty sure. He remembered oh-so many things about her. Things that, even after all this time, couldn’t completely have changed.

  If only he could know for certain how much of what he remembered had actually been true.

  Given enough time, a fantasy can take on a life of its own. But he’d had enough of this particular fantasy. It was time he got a taste of reality. Maybe tomorrow.

  Back to Top

  * * * *

  Chapter Twenty One

  * * * *

  Glenn looked out across San Bartolo Bay from the deck of his houseboat. The early morning sunlight gleamed across the surface of the water, the silence was broken by the calls of gulls wheeling in the sky above him and the faint bell-like tones of the wind as it vibrated in the lines of the nearby sailboats.

  In the distance, to either side, the long, green arms of the shore reached out to embrace the bay. Everything looked bright and safe and warm. Everything but the dark, murky depths where the secrets were hidden. Thinking about that now, he was conscious of a deep thrill of mingled fear and satisfaction. He liked the irony of his choice to live on the water. Once, he’d practically lived in it. He’d swam every day, and when he wasn’t swimming, he was running – training his muscles so that they’d propel him even faster through the water. But it was in the water that he felt most comfortable. It was the one place where he could forget about the troubles at home and let go of everything that disturbed him.

  It had been years since he’d felt that way. Too many long years, during which the very sight of a large body of water was enough to make him break out in a sweat. No one knew, of course. He’d hidden his discomfort too well. His move here had been a stroke of genius, forcing him to confront his demons head on. And while he still could not bring himself to actually enter the water, he had progressed to the point where he could, as he was doing now, gaze at the surface without panic taking him. Without the thought of everything that lay drowned within the depths making him sick.

  What did make him sick, however, was the thought of Scout and that cop. He’d seen the way they’d glared at each other the day before. It had made him not only sick, but nervous, as well. That man was dangerous – crazy – and now he was after Scout. He should have seen it coming days ago, but he’d been so preoccupied with other things, he hadn’t made the connection. Now he had. And he knew that it was up to him to find a way to take care of this, too.

  There were always demons to be faced. No matter how many you put away, there always seemed to be another coming at you.

  * * *

  Just after nine o’clock, Scout slid into the passenger seat of Nick’s car. Her heart pounded with excitement. After all those years, years when she’d given up even dreaming about it, she couldn’t believe this was happening. A rush of excitement speared through her. This was how they’d spent so much of their time together.

  It didn’t matter that this was a different car than he’d driven twenty years ago. He was still the same. And the excitement she felt at being close to him was exactly as she remembered it.

  Nick’s eyes, hidden as usual behind dark glasses, were unreadable, but Scout thought he had looked just a little uncomfortable when she first got in. She hadn’t had time to wonder about it though; in fact, she’d barely gotten her seatbelt fastened before he peeled out of her driveway.

  God, he looks great, she thought, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. She was mesmerized by the way his hands slid lightly over the wheel as he spun around a curve, the way the muscles in his arm tightened as he changed gears. She remembered the way those hands had felt on her skin, so many years ago; how those arms had held her. And suddenly, she found it hard to breathe.

  “This was really nice of you.” She stumbled into speech to cover her confusion, but her voice sounded breathless and weak. “Thanks.”

  “Sure,” Nick ground the single syllable out.

  She couldn’t help notice that his jaw was clenching again. Was he angry about something?

  “Here.” He grabbed a couple of paper bags from the back seat and thrust them at her. “I didn’t know if you’d already eaten, so I picke
d up some stuff for breakfast.”

  He was driving fast, which was just as she remembered. But he kept his eyes fixed on the road the whole time, which was not. He nodded toward the cup holders on the front console. “I also got you some coffee. I wasn’t sure what you’d want to drink. We can stop again, if you want something else.”

  “No, this is great.” Scout busied herself with extracting a raspberry-filled pastry from the bag. “Just like old times, huh?”

  “No.” Nick shook his head emphatically. “Oh, no. It sure isn’t.”

  “I only meant that—”

  “I know what you meant.” The steel in his voice surprised her. “But you’re wrong.”

  Scout found herself suddenly wishing for her dog. She missed her warm, comforting presence. “Well, it was nice of you to do this – to help me find my dog.”

  “Yeah.” he said curtly. “You said that already. Why don’t you give me one of those pastries, ‘kay?”

  “What kind do you want?” she asked, her own voice subdued.

  “Doesn’t matter. Any of ‘em. What’d you say your dog’s name was, again?”

  He sounded irritated and preoccupied. He sounded so much as if he would rather be doing something – almost anything – else. She had a sudden horrible and totally irrational thought. Could Lucy have put him up to this? Was he only doing this as a favor to his cousin? Could Lucy have called him last night, after dinner and –

  No. Impossible. Lucy would walk over flaming coals before she’d do anything to help Scout. Or, for that matter, before she’d throw her together with her cousin. She’d made that crystal clear.

  “Well, like I told you on the phone, I haven’t had her for very long. I haven’t actually even named her yet,” she admitted.

  He shook his head, looking disgusted. Looking so, so bored.

  “Well, I didn’t exactly plan on having a dog, you know?” she was stung into explaining. “I mean, I got here a week ago and boom! Suddenly I’m dealing with a house, a dog, a dozen cats, a missing roommate...”

  “Yeah. Sounds like you got your hands full, all right. So what was it that finally brought you back to town?”

  “Lucy didn’t tell you?”

  Nick smirked, and she thought she saw his hands tighten on the wheel. “To be honest, your name didn’t exactly come up in conversation too much these last twenty years.”

  Scout sucked hard on her coffee. “I just thought she might have mentioned that Caroline, my stepmother, died recently. That’s why I had to come back. For some reason she left everything to me and my stepsister. Her daughter, Lisa.”

  “Yeah? So where’s she at?”

  “You mean Lisa? Well, that’s what I’m here to find out.”

  “Wait, this isn’t the same stepsister who ran away... way back when? She’s still missing?”

  “Yeah, apparently.”

  “And you’re supposed to find her? Now? After all that time?” He shook his head. “Good luck.”

  Scout sighed again. “That’s pretty much what everyone says. But I’ve got to try, you know?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Look, given the fact that Caroline and I hardly spoke to each other over the last twenty years, I don’t think it was our close, loving relationship that prompted her to put me in her will. I figure she knew I would at least try to find out what happened to Lisa. That I’d feel I owed them both that much, since it was mostly my fault she left in the first place.”

  Nick frowned slightly. “How d’you figure that?”

  “C’mon, Nick, it’s what everyone figured, right? We had a fight. She left the house. She never came back. Lucy got a letter blaming me for everything. And then... nothing.”

  “Yeah.” Nick shook a cigarette out of his pack and jabbed at the lighter with his thumb. “So. Refresh my memory again,” he said between puffs as he lit it. “What was it you two were fighting about?”

  Here we go again. Scout sighed. “Mostly her boyfriend.”

  “Oh, right. The boyfriend. Yeah, now I remember. Quite the social butterfly, weren’t you?” A cold smile flickered briefly on his lips.

  Scout felt herself bristle with sudden anger. “Yeah, that was me. Are you sure you and Lucy haven’t been comparing notes? ‘Cause she and I took this same stroll down memory lane just last night.”

  “Nope. It never came up.”

  “Well, you know what? Maybe we can let it drop again. I just want to find my dog and go home. And then as soon as I find out what happened to Lisa – and to Robyn, now – I can get the hell out of town again.”

  “Hmph.” Nick puffed quietly for several seconds. “Well. I gotta say, you sure do have a knack for losing things, don’t you?”

  The frost in his voice was palpable, but Scout more than matched it, folding her arms and turning away from him as she muttered, “Yeah. Too bad more of them don’t stay lost.” Digging in her bag, she pulled out her own pack of cigarettes, and was soon puffing away as furiously as he was.

  * * *

  It was another perfect morning. Still June. Once again the sun was shining and a gentle breeze caused the nasturtiums to shiver and sway on their stems. On the terrace, three women talked quietly, their lattés and herbal tea forgotten in the seriousness of their conversation.

  “You really think she’s dead, don’t you?” Ginny asked quietly.

  Marsha shrugged. “Well... it doesn’t look good.”

  “So, we’re just taking Celeste’s word on this? ” Heather demanded. “Marsha, much as I love the woman, we don’t even know what she’s basing her ideas on. No offense, but it seems a little premature. What do the police have to say? Are they buying into this idea, too?”

  “I guess they’re not ruling anything out at the moment.” Marsha shook her head. “But it’s not exactly a matter of belief, you know. I mean, Robyn is missing.”

  “It’s summer. She’s nineteen. She doesn’t exactly owe your friend an accounting of her whereabouts. Maybe she just took off for a few days?”

  “How about what she owes Lucy?” Ginny asked. “She didn’t tell anyone at work either, you know. And without packing so much as a toothbrush? You have to admit it doesn’t look good, Heather. And you can’t forget about the dog, either.”

  “Well, yeah, what about the dog, though?” Heather asked, perking up suddenly. “That doesn’t make sense either, does it? I mean, who the hell would want to abduct Robyn and her dog? Think about it. Isn’t it more likely that Robyn just wanted to take off for a few days? Or maybe she got really attached to the dog and she stole it. That could’ve happened, couldn’t it? Maybe she just took the dog and went back home to – where is she from, anyway?”

  Marsha was suddenly very, very weary. “I don’t know. But I don’t think that’s what happened, Heather.” She thought of her own daughter, just a year younger than Robyn, out there now, all alone, riding a bike along a deserted highway. Not that she was really alone, of course. There were other riders out there with her. It was supposed to be safe – but then so was walking a moderately large dog in a residential neighborhood in a little town like Oberon. But still, things happened. No matter what kind of precautions you took. Things – sometimes very bad things – happened anyway.

  We’re such small, fragile creatures, she thought. And we’re all just out there, all the time alone, out in the great unknown. And ultimately there’s nothing – not friendship, not family, not caution or common sense, not even precognition – that can save us.

  She thought again of the painting she had admired yesterday in the hall at Scout’s house. Such happy, happy faces. And yet, just look what happened there.

  “It’s a mystery,” Marsha said at last. “You can never really know what someone else is thinking. Or what they’re gonna do. You think you know. But you never do. Not really.”

  “You gotta do what you can, though,” Ginny said softly. “Don’t you? To help people? To try and make sense of things?”

  Marsha shrugged. “Yeah, I gu
ess. You do what you can. For all the good it ever seems to do. You do what you have to. And you hope for the best.” And still, bad things happen. Bad things happen all the time.

  * * *

  This was such a bad idea, Nick reflected moodily as they pulled away from the third shelter on his list. Definitely a bad idea. He should have gone by himself. That way, if he’d found the dog he could have brought it back to her. Not that he’d have a clue what to look for – a nondescript mutt he’d seen only one blurry photo of with no name and no tags. Good luck.

  But if he’d pulled it off, he’d have been a hero. And she would have been grateful. He could have worked with that. Instead, they had immediately gotten off on the wrong foot, and stayed there.

  It was his own fault, he supposed. He hadn’t exactly overwhelmed her with his charm. But all it had taken was her getting into his car this morning and he was a goner. Memories had surged to the forefront of his mind, desire slamming into him with the force of a gunshot, setting all his nerves on edge.

  Twenty years older and she still moved like a kid, damn it. It just wasn’t fair.

  Hell, this was worse than yesterday. At least then, when she’d fainted, he’d gotten the chance to put his arms around her. That wasn’t likely to happen again anytime soon. And having her this close, without being able to touch her... how long did he think he could stand that?

  Just like old times, she’d said. Oh, God, what was that, some kind of fucking joke? In the old days there was never this tension between them. Things had been simple. Easy. Clear. Being with her had been like breathing; normal and right, effortless. And if he’d felt like kissing her – which he usually did, like he did right now – he would have gone ahead and kissed her.

  In the old days, he knew where he stood with her. Or at least, he always thought he did. But now, what would she do if he tried to kiss her now? He sneaked a glance in her direction. She sat staring out the window, arms crossed tightly, a grim, angry expression on her face.