Dream Under the Hill (Oberon Book 8)

by P. G. Forte

  He recognized the spot as soon as he saw it. Even though Nick’s Porsche had been towed from the scene, Seth could still see the marks in the grass, the burned and battered trees. He felt his stomach turn over. The truck began to slow, almost as if someone was applying the brakes, although he knew that really it was just that he’d eased up on the gas. And the voice in his head, urging him to turn around? That was nothing but nerves.

  Seth shook off his weird mood as best he could, pressed harder on the gas and found himself pulling up to the gate of TLV in no time at all.

  The gate began to swing open, practically as soon as he pulled up in front of it, almost as if someone inside had been keeping an lookout, awaiting his arrival. Maybe they were.

  The gate began to close again immediately. Seth suppressed a shudder at the sound of it clanging shut. The mansion’s front door opened before he even climbed out of the cab and Cara appeared. Her eyes were shining and her face–

  “What the hell happened to you?” Seth asked, frowning at the bruises that marked her too pale skin.

  “Oh, nothing,” Cara replied, waving his question away. “I tripped and fell down the stairs this morning. That’s all.”

  Her eyes shifted as thought she were nervous, and Seth peered at her suspiciously. The only times he’d known her to be clumsy were when she was strung out. He thought she was clean, she’d looked to be, the last time he saw her. Had she started using again? “What stairs were these? And how come you only bruised your face?”

  “There’s this big marble staircase in the front hall. I was carrying some sheets down to the laundry. I didn’t realize they were trailing on the floor until I put my foot down on them by accident and slipped. I guess the way I was carrying them, they broke my fall. My face was the only part that hit the marble.”

  “You were lucky you didn’t break your arm or something,” Seth said, still unconvinced. He knew a lot about the kind of bruises and cuts you got from falling—anyone who skated did. And these didn’t look right.

  But if Cara noticed his hesitation, she gave no sign, just continued to babble. “Yeah, I know. Real lucky. Never mind that now,” she said talking fast. “I’m just so glad you came. I’ve been watching for you all morning.”

  ‘All morning’ was an exaggeration, but still Seth nodded. “I said I’d come. I’m really hoping this guy can do something to help my cousin.”

  “Well, he holds prayer circles all the time for stuff like that, so I’m sure we could ask him. But listen, before we go up to see him, we gotta talk.” Cara smiled innocently as she said it. A little too innocently, it seemed to Seth.

  “What do we need to talk about what?” Seth asked, not liking the idea that he’d had to come all the way out here just to ask the guy if he could hold a prayer circle for his cousin – what was the point of that? Why couldn’t he have phoned in his request?

  “Well, I told Gregg about what happened last Halloween. You know, at the school? That thing you did with the door? That’s why he wanted to meet with you.”

  Seth frowned. “I told you, I don’t know what happened with the door. It was just weird. And what do you mean, he wanted to meet me? I thought I was out here to get help for Nick?”

  “Well, you are,” Cara said, smiling brightly as she took hold of his arm and tugged him toward the door. “You’ll help Gregg and then he’ll help your cousin – we’ll all help each other. Just tell him what happened, that’s all. And maybe leave out the part about not knowing how it happened.”

  “You mean lie? What for?”

  Cara bit her lip, and then winced. “Not lie, exactly. Just leave some stuff out. You can do that, can’t you?”

  Seth looked at her curiously, she seemed a little more wound up, more fidgety than usual. Maybe she was using again. He shook his head. “I don’t know. This doesn’t feel right. I think maybe I should just go home.” He also couldn’t help noticing that Cara had left herself out of the ‘we’ll all help each other’ equation, and that, more than anything else, made him nervous. He couldn’t figure out what Cara was getting out of this meeting, and that couldn’t be right. In fact, unless she’d found religion here, that really couldn’t be right. Cara never did anything without there being a pay off in it for herself. That’s just the way she was.

  Cara’s eyes grew troubled, she tugged harder on his arm. “Come on, Seth, please,” she whined. “I’m counting on you. You promised you’d help tutor me, and then you just stopped. Do this and we’re even. I won’t ask you for any more help. Please.”

  “Oh, all right,” Seth sighed, as he allowed himself be led into the house. “If that’s what you want.” After all, what could it hurt? But, he was surprised to find himself feeling almost let down by the terms of their new bargain. He hadn’t minded tutoring her. He’d probably have done it even without the promise, and definitely without the pay – although that had been nice, too. He might even have done it without the fact that she’d helped save his sister’s life last October. Hell, he might have done it just because he’d come to enjoy their time together. He was going to miss it, now that it was over. But, a promise was a promise, and if this was what she wanted instead... then once again, he really didn’t have a choice.

  * * *

  Ryan was hit with a feeling of deja vu as he made his way through the hospital’s labyrinth of corridors. In the last couple of years, he’d been here more times than he cared to count, and definitely more times than he cared to remember.

  His search of Nick’s desk had yielded nothing to suggest that he’d been involved in anything unusual; certainly nothing that would have taken him away from home on his birthday. Other than a spate of phone calls he’d made the day before, there’d been nothing at all out of the ordinary.

  Of course the man did have a phenomenal memory, and he didn’t always commit things to paper when he should, which was why Ryan thanked God for phone logs. He’d spent the better part of this morning on the phone himself, reconstructing Nick’s last afternoon at work.

  And what reward had he gotten for his efforts? Two names. Two names that didn’t mean squat, so far. He could only hope they meant something to Scout, or it was back to square one.

  Quietly, he pushed open the door of Nick’s room. His eyes went immediately to the bed where his friend lay. No change there. Nick was still inert, still motionless, hemmed in by tubes and wires, connected to monitors that beeped out a steady, unchanging rhythm. Scout was huddled in the chair beside him, head down on her knees, seemingly asleep. His eyes tracked across the room. A familiar red-headed figure stood by the window, gazing out at the sky.

  A familiar red-headed figure wearing a hospital gown. Ryan’s eyes widened in surprise. “Sinead? What are you doing here?”

  His sister-in-law started. She turned swiftly, the vaguely guilty expression on her face morphing into one of faint annoyance. “Oh, it’s you,” she said in that dismissive tone he couldn’t help but find amusing, now that he was used to it. She eyed him wearily for a moment and then added, “I’m walking. It’s supposed to help labor progress more quickly.”

  “You’re in labor?” he asked, although even he could hear how dumb that sounded. Wow, he’d really handed her that one, hadn’t he?

  He braced himself for Sinead’s smart ass retort, but instead she shrugged. “Well, that’s what we thought. However, my body seems to be having second thoughts about that at the moment.”

  “Oh.” His gaze checked the rest of the room, and then returned to her. “Where’s Adam? I thought he’d be with you?” For a moment he contemplated asking whether the prospective father had gotten cold feet, but he changed his mind. He could already anticipate her answer – better cold feet than flat feet – but that wasn’t what held him back.

  He was uneasily aware of some sort of outside opposition; as though there were an interdiction on teasing her here. Nick had always disliked their banter, could it be the chill in the atmosphere had something to do with him?

  Whatever the
cause, Sinead seemed to feel it, as well. She nodded as she answered, far more agreeably than usual, “I sent him down to the cafeteria to get me something to eat. My nurse is a Nazi. She won’t let me have anything but ice chips.”

  “You’re not supposed to eat,” Scout said quietly. Ryan glanced in her direction. She still hadn’t moved, she hadn’t even opened her eyes. Did the woman never sleep, or had they woken her with their conversation? “If something happens and they have to put you out and you’ve got food in your stomach, you could vomit and aspirate and–”

  “I know all that,” Sinead replied, cutting her off quickly, “but I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast yesterday, and I’m starving. Besides, at the rate I’m going, I’ll be lucky if anything at all happens. I’m not due for another two weeks, you know. If things keep up like they’re doing, they’re going to end up sending me home.”

  “You’re not supposed to eat,” Scout repeated, her voice dull, robotic, as though she hadn’t heard a word Sinead said. Or, as though she’d heard it all too many times. Ryan stared at her in surprise, wondering which of the two it was. There wasn’t exactly a feeling of tension between the women, but still, the mood in the room was definitely far from peaceful. And something told him he was about to make things worse. But what choice did he have?

  He cleared his throat. “I needed to ask you a couple of questions, Scout, if you have a moment?”

  Scout lifted her head. Her eyes were as dull as her voice. “What do you want to know?”

  “It’s about Nick. The day before his accident he made a lot of phone calls. Apparently he was trying to get some information on a couple of guys. Trouble is, I have no idea why he was interested in them. I have the names of the people he was asking about but, so far, they’re just names. They don’t seem to mean much to anyone. I was hoping maybe they would mean something to you.”

  He’d taken the paper he’d copied the names down on out of his pocket as he spoke, now he handed it to Scout and watched as her eyes grew wide and the blood drained from her face.

  “This one,” she said in a voice that matched her hands, both shaking uncontrollably. “That’s the brother of the man who tried to kill me.”

  Ryan’s eyebrows rose as bits of remembered conversation slid together in his mind, like pieces of a puzzle. “You mean two years ago? The man you killed?”

  Scout nodded, still staring at the paper. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, in a voice so soft he had to strain to hear her. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? It’s all my fault.”

  “You’re fault? Of course not. But d’you think it’s possible this guy might be looking for a little revenge?” he asked.

  Again Scout nodded. “Always. Or maybe just for fun. He’s killed before, Ryan. I saw him. He’s a monster. He– Oh, God.” And then she broke.

  The paper fluttered from her hand as her eyes rolled back and she lost consciousness. Ryan lunged, catching her before she hit the floor, barely noticing, from the corner of his eye, when Sinead bent to pick the paper up, barely registering the startled gasp that escaped her.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Adam asked from the doorway.

  “It’s okay,” Ryan said. “She just fainted.”

  “No. It’s not okay.” Sinead’s voice sounded harsh, strained, angry. “You son of a bitch.”

  Stunned, Ryan turned his head to gape at her. What now? But, for once, he wasn’t the object of her wrath.

  Sinead’s face was almost as white as Scout’s and she, too, was trembling. But her eyes were locked on Adam’s face and they blazed with fear and fury and something that looked a whole lot like hate. “You son of a bitch,” she repeated, gasping a little as her face contorted and her hands clutched at her belly. “Adam– This is your doing.”

  Chapter Thirty One

  Adam glanced around quickly, looking for someplace to deposit the tray he was carrying, resisting the urge to just dump it on the floor. Lucky for him there was no drink to spill, or he was sure he would have done that by now. Still, the heavy smell of grease rising from the cheeseburger and fries Sinead had requested was thick enough to choke a cow. Breathing was difficult anyway, in the face of Sinead’s anger and Scout’s unconsciousness. He felt as though he’d just taken a dive, headfirst into an empty swimming pool. Ten minutes – fifteen, tops – that’s all he’d been gone. How could his world have come toppling down as fast as that?

  “What’s going on?” he repeated as he slid the tray onto the counter outside the bathroom and hurried to Scout’s side. “What–” What did I do? That was the question he wanted to ask, the one he’d really like an answer to. But it was exactly the kind of question experience had taught him never to ask at times like these – times when there was a cop in the room and no attorney present. “What happened?”

  “Gregg Gilchrist,” Sinead hissed, as though that explained anything. She waved a crumpled piece of paper at him. “He’s back. That has to be what this means. And, somehow, Nick must have found out about it.”

  Gilchrist? Adam frowned. The name meant nothing to him. “Found out about what?”

  “Sinead, what are you saying?” Ryan asked. “Do you know something about this guy?” His voice was the careful, neutral, too-quiet tone Adam had learned to distrust.

  Yep, definitely not the right time to ask or admit to anything, he thought, forcing himself to keep his lips clamped together as he positioned Scout more comfortably in her chair. Her breathing was shallow, but she didn’t seem to be injured. He wished there was a way to stop Sinead from saying anything else, as well, but no luck there.

  “Gregg did this.” Sinead stabbed a finger toward the bed where Nick lay. Her face contorted and, for a moment, Adam thought she was going to be sick. “Oh, God. Poor Nick. It all makes sense now.” Then she turned her gaze and the full force of her anger back on Adam again. “And it’s all your fault.”

  Adam felt his eyebrows rise. “My fault?”

  Ryan shot a brief, suspicious look in his direction and then asked, “How so?”

  “I should have known about it,” Sinead said, her words almost lost beneath Scout’s moan as she began to regain consciousness. “If Gregg was back, I should have known before anyone. I should have dreamed him. I should have– Oh. Oh, my God. The dreams.”

  Adam started. So, that’s what did it. That’s what gave me away. Crap.

  “Dreams?” Ryan repeated the word impatiently. “Sinead, what are you talking about?”

  Sinead ignored him. Tears spilled from her eyes as she gazed at Adam bleakly. “That’s what happened, isn’t it? That’s what all those damn dreams last Autumn were trying to tell me. And you stopped them. Didn’t you. Adam, how could you? Why–” She broke off, gasping slightly. Her face twisted again.

  Alarmed, Adam stood and started toward her. “Sinead, sit down.”

  “No.” She raised her hands to fend him off. “Stay away. Don’t touch me!” She took a step backward, seeming to stumble, her face paled even more.

  “Je-sus.” Ryan shot to his feet. “Not another one.”

  Both men reached for Sinead as she started to sway. Anger blazed to life in Adam’s heart when she shrank away from him, a raw, scorching heat that threatened to vaporize his higher thought processes. And when she clutched at Ryan, when his arms closed protectively around her, it was all Adam could do to keep from launching himself at the other man’s throat.

  “This is your fault, Adam. You’ve ruined everything. You, you—I hate you!”

  “Sinead, stop,” Scout protested. “Don’t– He didn’t do it to hurt you.”

  Sinead gaped. “Hurt me?” She pushed out of Ryan’s arms and took a step forward. “Don’t you defend him, Scout. Don’t you get it? Can’t you see what he’s done? He’s as good as killed Nick!”

  A deadly silence fell over the room. Once again Sinead pointed a shaking finger toward the bed. “Look at him. D’you think this is natural? D’you think Gregg is going to let him recover?” Without wa
rning, she pivoted again and threw herself at Adam, sobbing, throwing punches. “Damn you, Adam. Damn you, damn you, damn you…”

  Holding her off was easy. Keeping her from hurting herself – that was another story. “Sinead, stop it!”

  “No,” she growled as she twisted and writhed, trying to tug her wrists free of his grip. She kicked at his shins. “You stop it. You, you– Magic.” She spat the word out, as if it tasted vile. “I must have been crazy falling in love with you. You’re no better than Gregg, you bastard!”

  “Okay, now, that’s enough.” Somehow, Ryan inserted himself between them. The next thing Adam knew, the cop had pulled Sinead away. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but you need to calm down,” Ryan said, swinging her into his arms. “Where’s your room?”

  “I don’t know,” Sinead mumbled, breathing hard. She covered her face with her hand. “I can’t think. I just…get me out of here, Ryan. Please.”

  Adam stepped forward. “Give her to me. I’ll take her.”

  “No, you won’t,” she said, lifting her head again and stopping him with a glare. “I don’t want you near me, Adam. Not until you find a way to fix things.”

  “Fix things? How–?” There was no way to fix things—not the way she probably meant.

  “I don’t care how. Just…undo everything you’ve done.”

  “Sinead, I can’t. I–”

  “Look,” Ryan interjected, “before he gets started on that, maybe he can just point me toward your room?”

  “No. I–” Sinead gasped as another contraction hit. Her jaw clenched, she gritted her teeth. “Just keep him away from me.”

  Ryan sighed. “Right. Never mind, then. I’ll find it myself.”

  “Wait.” Adam put out a hand to stop him. “This is stupid. Let me–”

  Ryan shook his head. “I don’t think so, pal. You heard what she said. And I know it’s your kid she’s got, but until she says otherwise, you keep your distance.”

  That wasn’t possible. It wasn’t happening, either. Still, Adam’s shoulders sagged, his eyes closed in despair. “Sinead... please. I’m begging you. Don’t do this.”