by Mae Clair
She never did ask where he found the money to purchase an engagement ring, too overcome by the rush of love she felt when he slid it onto her finger. Later, they’d had to go to the county clerk’s office to apply for a marriage license. She’d held her breath at that point, uncertain how valid Caleb’s forged identity was. But everything had gone smoothly and in three days they’d had their license.
Rick insisted on hiring a photographer for the event, scheduled to take place at Weathering Rock on August twelfth. She and Lauren worked with a local florist on a decorating theme, and Daphne–still angry over how Seth had been treated at Lauren’s party–grudgingly agreed to provide catering.
Wyn made arrangements with a local minister, also a friend, to perform the ceremony. Word spread through the small community of Sagehill and soon people were congratulating her on the upcoming nuptials. She floated on a high day by day, trying to block the knowledge that Caleb often went wandering late at night. They split their time between her townhouse and Weathering Rock, but he was often gone once the sun set. He never explained why, but she knew he was hunting Seth.
She tried not to think of that confrontation, burying her mind in the wedding or the knowledge school would be starting the end of the month. The thought of going back to the routine of a regular workday felt like a letdown after her exposure to time travel and werewolves. And there was still so much to think about, including where they’d live and how Caleb would earn a living. Her townhouse was comfortable, but Caleb’s heart belonged to Weathering Rock. Unfortunately, his ancestral home was deeded to his nephew. And then there was the matter of a job.
Wyn’s government friend had provided Caleb with a twenty-first century identity, but not with a viable source of income or employment. Rick could supply his son with the latter, but Rick wasn’t going to be around forever, the main reason they’d decided to wait to take a honeymoon. Caleb wanted every minute he could spend with his father. Rick knew the date he would be wrenched backward in time, but no matter how often or how beseechingly Caleb asked, he refused to part with the information.
“Knowing will only make it worse for you,” he’d reply every time Caleb broached the subject. “I’m going to be here for your wedding. I promise that.”
The vow gave Caleb some peace of mind and he stopped pressing the issue.
For the most part, the days leading up to the ceremony were filled with happiness and giddy anticipation. Rick’s work crew did a superb job on the parlor at Weathering Rock, restoring its original beauty. Insisting Caleb grow more comfortable behind the wheel of a car, now that he’d be living permanently in the present, Wyn and Rick took turns forcing him to drive. He’d bristled at first, but came to recognize the wisdom of the idea.
His headaches continued with the same frequency as before. Arianna knew another full moon lurked at the end of August. That particular night would be spent at Weathering Rock, Caleb locked in the silver-barred room in the basement.
Thinking much the same thing, Wyn insisted she learn to administer Caleb’s injections in the event of an emergency. Her fiance had protested vehemently until he calmed down enough to think the logic through. In the end, he’d recanted, if grudgingly.
He’d sat tense and sullen, his jaw clenched as she’d slid the needle into his arm. She’d felt shame and frustration rolling off him in waves, but her mouth had been too dry, her hands shaking too badly, to assure him there was no reason for embarrassment. He eased up when he realized she was more distressed by the ordeal than he. That night he’d disappeared until almost dawn, determined to find Seth.
She’d awakened to the sound of Caleb and Wyn arguing and had crept as far as the staircase, peering down into the center hall.
“…get yourself killed,” Wyn snapped. “The next time you go on one of these all night excursions, I’m going with you. We stand a better chance of beating that bastard together.”
“I don’t want you involved.”
“Too bad. I’m already involved. I’ve been involved up to my eyeballs for the last three years. When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours I have a stake in this too?”
Caleb ground his teeth. Arianna couldn’t see him clearly, his body partially turned, but knew him well enough to sense his reaction. “Wyn, the man could kill you or turn you into the same revolting creature I am. I won’t allow that.”
“That’s mighty generous of you, but I’m not going to sit around with my thumb up my ass while you go on a werewolf hunt. The next full moon is two weeks away.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“You’re getting married in three days. Haven’t you picked up any kind of trail? What good are supercharged senses if you can’t sniff out one mangy werewolf?”
“He’s close.”
“How close?”
“I think he’s been watching me. Arianna too. What if…” Caleb’s voice was hesitant, something rare for her self-confident colonel. “What if I can’t protect her? I tried talking to Daphne, but she’s no help. She told me she and Seth had a spat, and he took off weeks ago.”
“Maybe he did.”
Arianna drew back from the railing, shocked Caleb had approached her sister. Daphne had said nothing, but then Daphne wasn’t speaking to her much these days, harboring a grudge over Lauren’s party.
“Get some sleep,” Wyn told Caleb. “Give it a rest for a few days. I know you want to end this, but right now the only thing you should be thinking about is your wedding.”
She pressed her lips together.
Caleb wasn’t the only one who could fight Seth. Maybe she didn’t have enhanced senses and night vision, but there were other ways of tracking a person.
* * * *
Lucas frowned, studying the name Arianna had scribbled on a sheet of paper. “Let me get this straight. I find out through the grapevine you’re getting married, don’t get an invitation to your wedding, and now you want me to dig up all I can on this person without an explanation of why.”
Arianna fingered the nameplate on the corner of his desk: Sergeant Lucas Drake. It was rare she visited him at the police station, but she was in a hurry for results and had decided to take the bull by the horns. “He’s, um, dating Daphne. I want to make sure he’s okay. You know–no big secrets in his past, a clean record, that sort of thing.” She looked at him hopefully. “Maybe you could dig up a current address?”
Lucas rocked back in his chair. “So you can send him a wedding invitation?”
She sighed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Luke, you and Caleb don’t even get along. Imagine how awkward it would be. Besides, it’s just immediate family, Lauren and a few close friends.”
“And Rick Rothrock. Explain that.”
She couldn’t. Not without divulging who Rick was. Deciding to ignore the question, she sucked on her bottom lip. “Are you going to help me?”
“I don’t know why I should.” Dropping his feet to the floor, Luke leaned forward and keyed an access code into his computer. The police station in Sagehill was small, accommodating two detectives in addition to several uniformed officers. Most had already left on patrol for the day. A pot-bellied officer was involved in a phone call across the room, and a uniformed clerk sorted mail nearby. The room was congested, cluttered with too many filing cabinets and desks, the pale gray paint on the walls in bad need of touch-up.
“You know I shouldn’t be doing this,” Luke said, using his mouse to click through several screens.
Arianna inched forward in her chair, trying to glimpse the dialogue boxes he scrolled through. “I know. But I’m worried about Daphne.”
“Sure you are.” Luke stopped, keying out several letters with his right hand. “Incidentally,” he commented, not bothering to glance up. “Remember that friend in the military I told you about? The one I had run a records check on DeCardian?”
She tensed. “Yes?”
“Well, I had him dig a little deeper and your fiance turned up in the database, buried in some h
ush-hush file. A legitimate full bird colonel, though no one can figure out how he got that rank so young. Stevenson was dumbfounded. He was going to keep digging until a superior found out what he was up to and told him to drop it ASAP. Classified.”
“Oh.” Arianna wasn’t certain what to say. Wyn’s government friend had done his job, but she feared having Caleb’s name associated with a classified file would only make Lucas more curious.
“I was intrigued enough to dig around on his brother, the doctor,” he continued, confirming the fact. “There’s a records block on him too. His relationship to your fiance has earned him a spot on the off-limits list. All I could find was a couple of birth certificates with the names of their parents.”
“Parents?” Arianna’s stomach flip-flopped.
“Yeah. A Dr. Wescott David DeCardian and his wife, Elayne, of Philadelphia. Looks like your soon-to-be brother-in-law moved to the area about six years ago. His father died in some kind of accident in the early eighties, but you probably already knew that.”
“Of course.” Caleb had once told her Wyn’s parents had died when he was young, but he hadn’t elaborated further. She’d already told her own parents Caleb’s mother and father were no longer living and the only relative he’d have at the wedding was his brother. Deciding to halt matters before they got out of control, Arianna drew a breath. “I want you to stop all of this digging around, Lucas. I appreciate your concern for my welfare, but I love Caleb. I know everything I need to know about him. Stop meddling in my business.”
“But it’s okay for me to dig around on this Reilly person who’s dating Daphne?”
Arianna flushed, caught in a double standard.
Having made his point, Lucas let the matter drop. “Seth Reilly,” he said, reading from his computer screen. “Born Pritchard, Pennsylvania. No record of any permanent address. File says he’s employed as a concert promoter. No criminal record.” He clicked off the screen and sat back in his chair. “Looks like you can stop worrying. Unlike your secretive fiance, Reilly’s as average as they come.”
“No address? None at all?”
“Look, Ari, if you’re that worried, ask Daphne about him. She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself. I don’t mean to cut this short, but I have to get back to work. And you have a wedding in two days.” He turned in the chair, shuffling through several folders scattered over the top of his desk. “Tell your parents I said hello.”
God, her parents! They were driving up a day early and would be arriving tomorrow. Worse, she was expected at a wedding shower Lauren had thrown together with several of their friends. While she was opening electric woks and slinky lingerie, Wyn and Rick would be entertaining Caleb with a bachelor party.
“I… Thank you, Lucas.” She didn’t know how to express her feelings. She valued his friendship, but his continued suspicion of Caleb made her wary. Standing, she kissed his cheek. “Thanks for being such a good friend.”
He gaped in surprise, but she was gone before he could comment.
Chapter 30
Caleb stood, tottering, before deciding it was better he sat. He could have used another beer but doubted he could make it to the kitchen and back. He rarely drank to excess, but a quasi-stag party with his father and closest friend two days before his wedding was the perfect excuse to overindulge. After three years of living under a cloud of gloom, it felt good to celebrate. He’d been led to believe there were usually girls in skimpy attire or something called an X-rated movie but, thankfully, Rick and Wyn had taken his nineteenth century mindset into consideration, opting instead for an endless supply of beer, food and conversation. There were several heated games of horseshoes and poker, many of which Caleb won.
Reaching behind him, he groped for the settee and collapsed onto the cushions.
Wyn let loose with a guffaw, sprawling deeper into his chair. “Three demerits, Colonel.” He fisted a long-necked bottle of Coors in his hand, uncorking one finger to jab in Caleb’s direction. “You’re drunk.”
“’M not.” Caleb pulled off a single brow raise with passable finesse. “And I haven’t had demerits since West Point.”
“Probably didn’t get any there either. I bet you were a model student.”
“Top of the class,” Rick confirmed. He gathered several empty bottles to cart to the kitchen. The party, such as it was, had centered around a backyard cookout. By the time it grew dark, all three men hovered in various stages of inebriation, lounging on the rear porch. Rick was driving nowhere that night. “Who wants another round?”
“I do,” Caleb said with a sluggish smile.
“Same here, Gramps.”
“Wise-ass,” Rick muttered. He staggered a step, then righted himself, weaving a wayward path to the back door.
“You’re corrupting your kid, Rothrock,” Wyn called over the bang of the screen door. Yellow light spilled through the kitchen window as Rick flipped on the overhead. A second later, the glass bottles hit the recycle bin with a noisy clatter.
“And you’re sleeping with my ex-wife.”
Wyn chuckled into his beer. “Yeah, but it’s nothing serious. We’re having fun.”
“Where have I heard that before?” Rick reappeared on the porch, swaying as he made his way to a rectangular coffee table. The top was littered with empty bottles, dirty plates and bowls of food that should have been stored away hours ago. The potato salad was no longer recognizable, congealed into a crusted yellow lump. What remained of a plate of nachos had wilted into a sticky puddle of sauce and limp tortilla chips, ripe enticement for a swarm of flying insects.
Rick passed his son an open beer, setting one nearby for Wyn before dropping into the closest chair with a grunt. “Take it from me, fun gets old. Lauren’s a nice girl.”
“No argument there. We just don’t think of each other that way. Besides, you haven’t exactly been a saint.”
Rick snorted, rolling his head against the chair rest. “That’s only because I didn’t know what I was missing. Isabel, my family.” Unsteadily he climbed to his feet, tottering the few steps to the settee where he plopped down beside Caleb. “I mean, look how lucky I am.” He hooked his arm around Caleb’s neck, hugging him close. “I’m gonna see my kid get married.”
Caleb grinned drunkenly. It was getting harder to hold his head upright. He’d surpassed his limit for alcohol several bottles back. His mind was fuzzy and his body felt numb. “I think someone’s at the front door,” he mumbled, hearing the faint chime of a bell.
“Nah.” Wyn fluffed the idea aside. “It’s goin’ on eleven o’clock.”
“Heard a bell.”
“Wedding bells,” Rick said, still hanging onto him. He burst out laughing. “You’ve got a one track mind.”
“No, seriously. I heard a bell.” Caleb tried to focus, but Wyn had joined in the laughter, saying something about nervous grooms and how tomorrow would be even worse when Arianna’s parents arrived.
“They’re from Richmond,” Wyn elaborated with a wink for Rick. “Capital of the Old Confederacy. It’s gonna be North meets South all over again.”
“They lived in Sagehill until five years ago,” Caleb countered, but couldn’t help grinning when Wyn started to whistle Dixie. Both men had been ribbing him all night, taking good-natured potshots. He enjoyed the camaraderie, something he hadn’t experienced in a long time.
“Speaking of Arianna, what do you think she’s doing right now?” He knew he was opening the door for more banter, but didn’t care. Being in love amounted to a perpetual high.
“Well, I can tell you she’s not answering her doorbell,” someone grumbled off to the right. “But neither are any of you.”
Caleb came crashing back to reality. Caught off guard, he jerked his head to the side. It was rare anyone could sneak up on him without his knowledge, but his usually acute hearing had been dulled by alcohol.
“Drake?” He blinked stupidly at the brown-haired cop who rounded the corner of the porch. “What are you doing he
re?” An attractive older couple followed behind him. In the back of his mind, he knew they had to be Arianna’s parents, but he’d gone blank on their names. Bethany and…Phillip? Peter? Patrick? Hades, he couldn’t remember.
“Which one of you is DeCardian?” the man asked, none too kindly.
“I am,” Wyn volunteered.
“I think he means me.” Caleb stood, rummaging up a smile as he took a cautious step forward. Focusing on keeping his balance, he extended his hand. “You must be Arianna’s father.” He searched his memory and made a stab at a name. “Peter.”
“Paul,” the man corrected.
Caleb grimaced. “Paul. I’m Arianna’s fiance, Caleb, and this is my brother, Wyn.” He motioned to Wyn, and then turned his attention to Rick. “And my fath–uh my friend–Rick Rothrock.”
“The developer,” Paul Hart acknowledged with a dark look for Rick. He didn’t appear to have noticed Caleb’s slip. “I’ve heard all about you. You’re Lauren’s ex.”
“We didn’t expect you until tomorrow,” Caleb said before Rick could formulate a reply. His mind was racing. What the hell where they doing here now, with Drake, of all people?
“That’s my fault.” Bethany Hart looked much like her daughter, though her black hair was cut short, close to her ears in a sleek bob. The woman had to be in her mid-fifties, but had the well-toned body of a thirty-year-old. “I’m Arianna’s mother, Bethany,” she said with a cordial smile. “I knew Lauren was having a shower for Ari tonight. Originally, Paul’s schedule was going to keep us in Richmond until tomorrow, but he had a change of plans. I wanted to surprise Ari. Unfortunately, we hit a bad accident on I-95 and got stuck in traffic for hours. I tried Lauren, then Arianna’s townhouse, but no one answered. I called her cell, but I guess she has it turned off because of the shower. Eventually, we called Lucas.”
“And he brought you here, because…” Wyn prompted with all the finesse of a coiled python, making it obvious he didn’t care for Drake.
“I couldn’t raise Lauren by phone,” Lucas answered with a sharp glance. “I tried to call, but your number is unlisted. I thought Arianna might be here. She spends most of her time here.”