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

by P. G. Forte

  Nick bent down and retrieved the folder that had fallen to the ground during the fight. He tossed it to Dan. “Well, I think you’d better take a look at this.”

  “What the fuck?” Dan leafed through the papers in the folder. “Nick... what is all this?”

  “Dunno. I was hoping you could tell me. We found it in Paige’s apartment.”

  “Jesus. That woman was nuts. So, what’re you saying – she was stalking me?”

  “Could be.” Nick paused, then asked again, just to be sure. “You really didn’t know anything about this?”

  “Hell, no.” Dan shook his head as he stared at the photos. “And I tell you, it’s a damn good thing Lucy never got wind of it either.”

  “And you’re sure she didn’t?”

  Dan laughed. “Shit, Nick, you’d have known right off, if Lucy’d been the one to kill her – you’d still be picking up pieces.”

  Nick held up a warning hand. “Don’t!”

  “Sorry,” Dan muttered. “She didn’t know, Nick.”

  “I believe you,” Nick said quietly. “But there’s still something else you gotta see.”

  Dan quickly rifled through the rest of the papers. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” he swore, as he stared at the birth certificate. “This is some kind of joke, right?”

  “No joke. I checked.” Nick pulled the crumpled pack of cigarettes from his inside pocket. He managed to find one that was not too badly bent, but he winced a little as he tried to purse his split lip around it. “It’s a certificate of live birth, sure enough.”

  Fury flashed again in Dan’s eyes. “And she really went ahead and listed me as the father? I don’t believe this!”

  “So, you’re saying you’re not the father?” Nick gazed at Dan speculatively as he shook out the match. He was denying an awful lot. “But you knew she was pregnant, right?”

  Dan shrugged. “Well, yeah, I mean, she said she was. But I thought—” He broke off, glaring. “Hell yes, I’m saying I’m not the father. I was always real careful about stuff like that.”

  “Still, accidents happen, don’t they?” Nick said softly.

  “Not to me they haven’t.”

  Okay, that wasn’t exactly true, was it? He hesitated. “So, uh, how d’you explain Seth, then?”

  “Ah, that was different,” Dan muttered stuffing papers back in the folder haphazardly. “She wouldn’t marry me. I had to do something.”

  Nick stared at him. “You’re saying you got Lucy pregnant on purpose? So that she’d have to marry you?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t like that. Not exactly.” Dan stared back mulishly. “But she’d already left me once, Nick. I couldn’t let her get away again. You know what that’s like.”

  “Yeah,” Nick sighed gloomily. “Yeah, I suppose I do.”

  * * *

  Marsha rested her head against the edge of the big cedar tub. The air was filled with sweetly scented steam; she breathed it in deeply. “So, tell me,” she murmured. “How does the reality stack up against all those fantasies you had?”

  Sam paused in the act of mapping every inch of her throat with his tongue to consider the matter. “Hotter,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “Wetter. But other than that, a pretty close match. Why? Are you interested in exploring some of my other fantasies?”

  Marsha smiled. “Not just at the moment, thank you. I’m not altogether certain I can move right now.”

  “Well, if that’s the only thing holding you back, I’m sure I can find a way to work around it,” he answered eagerly.

  “Don’t you ever get tired?” she asked as he resumed nuzzling her neck.

  “I’m very motivated at present.”

  She felt his moustache tickle her skin. “I can see that,” she giggled.

  “Well, I have a whole, very long week to make up for.”

  “I know,” she said softly.

  “I told you last Sunday it would be enjoyable,” he pointed out.

  Last Sunday. Only one short week ago. Marsha sighed, thinking of all the reasons she’d turned him down then. None of which had really changed. And yet, here they were— “Yes, you did.”

  “And I was right about that, wasn’t I?”

  She knew he was teasing her, but she just couldn’t bring herself to play the game anymore. Not with so much at stake. “And you’re still leaving, aren’t you?” she asked him, mimicking his tone. “In about what... five or six weeks?” Six weeks would pass in a blink of an eye, and leave her with what?

  He lifted his head and looked at her, his gray eyes gleaming intently. “Actually, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that. I have to go down to Los Angeles on business for a few days this week. But I should be back by the end of the week – or certainly by the weekend. Why don’t we postpone this conversation until I get back?”

  She looked at him searchingly for a moment, but his eyes and face revealed nothing. And everything inside him was guarded as well. Guarded, and watchful. There was something he wasn’t telling her, something he really didn’t want her to know about. And she had no idea what it might be.

  “Okay,” she said finally, giving in to what was inevitable, anyway. Ruthlessly squashing the treacherous bloom of hope she felt. Sure, maybe when he came back he’d tell her he wanted to stay in Oberon beyond the six weeks. Maybe he’d ask to stay by her side forever. But the chances were better than good he’d return from LA having reconsidered their affair. She would not be surprised if he informed her next week that he was returning to New York immediately. It was where he belonged, after all. Just as she belonged here.

  “So, what do you want to do now?” she asked, anxious to change the subject.

  “Now? Well, we’re still not quite finished with my hot tub fantasy yet, you know.”

  “We’re not?” She looked at him, puzzled. “What’s left?”

  She caught her breath as his hands slid beneath her legs and he tugged her toward the surface. The devil was in his smile as he answered. “Breakfast.”

  * * *

  Scout sauntered down the middle of Oberon’s Main Street. The street was closed to traffic for the day and crowded with pedestrians. Booths dotted the sidewalks; offering food or crafts for sale, or information on various local organizations.

  She loved being here. She loved soaking in the sights and sounds and smells. Especially the smells, she thought, as she felt her stomach growl. It had been hours since breakfast – pancakes – which Kate and Mandy had made. Nick, who usually made a production of preparing breakfast on Sunday had left early, in a more foul mood than usual.

  Her fault, of course. He’d tried not to show it, but she could tell he was upset when she told him last night that she had to go to Los Angeles for a few days. And even more upset when she wouldn’t tell him why.

  Maybe that had been a mistake, she reflected. Maybe she should have told him what she was doing. But she so wanted to surprise him...

  “Fine,” he’d said at last, staring at the ceiling above their bed. She could feel the tension in him. “Go. Do what you have to do.”

  “You know it’s only for a few days,” she told him. “You know I’ll be back... right?”

  “I know,” he said. But did he really, she wondered? Things had been so weird lately, sometimes she wasn’t sure how she felt herself, so why did she expect him to?

  She stopped at one of the food booths along the way, and was trying to decide between roasted garlic, fried or steamed artichokes or stuffed jalapenos – or maybe she’d skip the vegetables altogether and move straight on to blackberry pie – when she saw them. Marsha and Sam. Wandering up the street from the other direction. Looking… Oh, yeah. Really not interested, huh, Marsha? Scout laughed to herself, forgetting about food for the moment as she watched her friend’s approach.

  Marsha turned her way suddenly, as if she’d become aware of her scrutiny, and blushed.

  Scout’s smile widened. Lucy was just going to love this, she thought.

  “Oh, no. You are
not calling Lucy,” Marsha muttered as she stopped in front of her. “Come on, Scout, please.”

  “Did I say anything about calling Lucy?” Scout pretended innocence.

  Marsha grimaced. “You don’t have to. I know that look.”

  Scout laughed. “Yeah, and I know the look on your face, too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much disinterest in my life. How’re you doing, Sam?”

  “I’m doing great,” he said, taking his eyes off Marsha just long enough to return Scout’s greeting. “This is quite an event, isn’t it?”

  Scout watched as Sam’s glance took in the scene around them, before settling back on Marsha.

  “Yep,” Scout said, aware again of her hunger. “Listen, I’m supposed to meet up with Kate and Mandy in about an hour, but I was thinking about getting something to eat right now. Are either of you hungry?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind eating again,” Sam answered pleasantly, patting Marsha on the back very solicitously when a sudden fit of coughing rendered her speechless. “Maybe you two want to find us a table while I get on line for the food?”

  “Works for me,” Scout shrugged, after glancing at Marsha who, red-faced and teary-eyed, still seemed unable to speak. “Why don’t we just get some of everything and share?”

  “Okay, Marsha,” Scout demanded as the two of them were seated. “Spill! You can’t still expect me to believe there’s nothing going on between the two of you. Not that I ever did, by the way. Now, talk to me.”

  Marsha squirmed uncomfortably. “Come on, Scout. He’s only going to be in town for a few more weeks. Please don’t go making a big deal about this, okay?”

  “What big deal? You like him, don’t you?”

  Marsha sighed. “Yes, I like him. Of course I do. I… I like him a lot. It’s just—”

  “And he obviously likes you, too. So, why is there a problem?”

  “Scout, are you not clear on this? The man lives in New York. That’s three thousand miles away!” Marsha snapped.

  Scout gazed at her friend in surprise. “Well, so what? So you take turns visiting each other for a while. See where it leads. People pick up and move all the time, don’t they?”

  “I guess.” Marsha glanced over her shoulder and saw Sam heading for them. “But I really don’t want to talk about it, now. Can we please change the subject?”

  “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

  “I don’t know. Did you find a dress?”

  Scout rolled her eyes. “Oh, great topic. No, not yet.”

  “Well, what are you going to do? The wedding’s less than a week away.”

  “Thank you, Marsha.” Scout smiled sardonically, as Sam put a tray loaded with food down on the table. “I was forgetting all about that. I don’t know, I’m hoping maybe I can find one in Los Angeles this week.”

  Sam and Marsha exchanged glances. “You’re going to LA this week?” Marsha asked.

  Scout sighed. “Yeah, I have to. I’m driving down tomorrow.”

  “You’re driving to Los Angeles tomorrow?” This time it was Sam asking, in tones of wry disbelief.

  “Am I missing something?” Scout asked, looking from one to another. “I will be back before the wedding, in case that’s what you’re wondering.”

  Marsha smiled. “No, Scout, it’s not that. I know you’ll be back. We’re not wondering anything.”

  “Well, actually, I’m wondering about something,” Sam told her, “I’m wondering whether I can get a ride with you?”

  “Huh?” Scout looked at him blankly.

  “It just so happens that I have to go to LA tomorrow, as well. And I’d rather not fly, if I can avoid it.”

  “Well, of course you do,” Scout shook her head. “Goddamn Oberon. You’d think I’d be used to the place by now, wouldn’t you?”

  “It does seem to take a certain amount of getting used to,” Sam pointed out.

  “Yeah.” Scout smiled at him. “But sometimes... it’s worth it.”

  She watched his gaze rest tenderly on her friend as he answered. “Yes. I’m beginning to realize that.”

  Back to Top

  * * * *

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  * * * *

  Darcy glanced at her former partner as he drove, and wondered again who it was that’d clipped him. He could deny it all he liked, but she’d seen the results of enough fistfights to recognize a ring cut when she saw one. A left-handed punch, too, which probably meant a wedding ring. Or maybe an engagement ring? She tried to remember if his fiancée had been wearing one when she’d met her.

  Not that the old Nick had ever been into anything quite so rough, but people changed, didn’t they? One thing was certain, for a man who’d just gotten punched in the face, he was in a helluva good mood. A better mood than he’d been in all week.

  “So, I guess you don’t want to talk about it, do you?” she asked hopefully.

  “Nope.”

  Right. “How about the case, then. You want to talk about that?”

  He hesitated. But then, “No, not really.”

  Darcy drummed her fingers on the armrest. “You know, I really don’t think you’re gonna solve this one, pard. It’s been a week and we’re nowhere closer than we were when we started.” She felt buoyed by the knowledge. The computer had been his last hope, she was pretty sure, and it had been a bust. There was no reason for her to keep hanging around now. Maybe for a few more days, but then she was outta this burg.

  A quick smile flickered over Nick’s lips and was gone again. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

  Darcy looked at him in surprise. “You wouldn’t?”

  “Nope. He accelerated automatically as he turned onto Bridge Street. It was wider and less utilized than many of Oberon’s streets, and the perfect place, as he’d pointed out to her years ago, for speeding. So, okay, she thought, maybe he hasn’t changed that much, after all. He still liked to drive fast, and hated to part with information.

  “You telling me you got a lead?” she asked cautiously.

  “I know who she was planning to meet with the morning she was killed,” he said evenly. “And I also know about the story she was working on.”

  Darcy felt dizzy suddenly. She had to struggle to keep her voice level as she asked, “So, who was she meeting?”

  Once again Nick hesitated. “Guy by the name of Sterling.” he admitted at last. “And…I think I may even have a handle on the motive.”

  Darcy felt her earlier optimism dissolve. Shit. This was news, all right. Bad news. Who the hell had he been talking to? “But this guy... you don’t think he’s still in town, do you? I mean, it’s been a week and—”

  Nick chuckled. “Oh, he’s in town. No doubt about it.”

  “So then where is he?” Darcy demanded, her agitation increasing when Nick merely shot her a complacent smile, and refused to answer. “Shit, Nick, what’re you thinking? The guy could run at any time!”

  “Nah.” His calmness made her blood boil. “He’s not going anywhere. Or, at least, not too far.”

  “So, if you don’t want to talk to Sterling, and you’re not planning on picking him up, then just what is the plan here?” she asked in exasperation. “And where in the hell are we going now?”

  “We are not going anywhere,” Nick answered, his good humor abruptly departing. “I’m dropping you back off at your car. And then... then I gotta go see my ex-wife.”

  * * *

  The big, black motorcycle gleamed menacingly in the sunlight, looking every bit as fast as Marsha remembered. She felt a deep sense of foreboding just looking at it. But they had ridden it over here earlier today from her house, and going slowly, in daylight, on level ground... it hadn’t been so bad.

  I can do this, she told herself, as she fastened the helmet on her head. What was there to be worried about, anyway? Sam was already seated on the bike, waiting for her. She braced herself with a hand on his shoulder as she climbed aboard.

  “You’ll go slow again though, righ
t?” she asked, just for reassurance.

  He glanced back at her reproachfully. “I would have gone slow the first time, too, if you’d only said something.”

  They pulled away from the curb, and it was... fine. It was even... kind of fun. Marsha took a deep breath and began to relax. Almost like a bicycle, really. Except for its being bigger, and faster and a whole lot louder, of course. They swung gently around a corner, and she found herself actually enjoying the way they leaned smoothly into the turn, and then straightened up again, following the curve of the road.

  They moved in and out of the shadows of the trees as they traveled along one of the broad, quiet streets that ran parallel to the greenbelt and she kept her hands clasped around Sam’s waist more for the pleasure of it now, than for any real need for security.

  I could get used to this, she thought, somewhat giddy with relief. This is not so bad.

  She was just leaning forward to tell him so, when she felt him tense. A shiver of fear, or fury, ran through him, turning his muscles to stone. She gasped as a dizzy, sick sensation iced through her; and with no other warning, he veered suddenly off the road and into the park.

  Marsha felt the bike pick up speed as Sam maneuvered it, first along the narrow, twisting paths; then up and over the grass-covered berms; then down again, into the now dry creek bed. He used his feet for balance as he swerved around the rocks and boulders that lined the bottom of the creek, coming close, several times, to slipping on the loose scree that made up its banks.

  And then they were out of the creek, and hurtling through the trees and she could barely see through the haze of bewilderment and rage that surrounded her. She clung to Sam as tightly as she had the first night. The only difference now was that the reassuring heat that had coursed through him then was entirely absent. In its place, a chill blackness seemed to pour from his skin, like mist from dry ice.

  * * *

  From the top of the bridge that spanned Alder Creek, Ryan watched the motorcycle disappear into the shadow of the trees. He swore in frustration. If he could have gotten just a little closer, he might have gotten a plate number or description of the bastard; but he’d been too damn slow for that. What could you expect, he thought, as he turned and jogged back down the path. He certainly couldn’t chase down a motorcycle on foot, after all. But he was sure that little fact would escape the attention of all the outraged citizens who would probably tie up the switchboard for hours with demands that the police do something about this new threat to the park’s fragile eco-system.