by P. G. Forte
Reaching the end of town, he turned his car onto the Coast Road, and headed south, toward the hospital. He could have just called for an update on Nick’s condition, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to waste any more time with phone calls and messages. What good had they done him so far?
It was possible Nick was just as anxious to talk to him. Liam sure hoped that was the case. Just as he hoped that the information the other man had for him would make going back out to the mansion unnecessary. That would be a perfect solution to at least one problem. But, in the meantime, the more time and distance he put between himself and Cara, the better for both of them.
He just needed to get her out of his head, that’s all. He needed something to distract himself. Anything that would help him to forget her… even for a little while.
Maybe, after they’d had a few days to cool down, he’d go and see Chenoa again. He owed it to her to make things right between them. To fix whatever had gone wrong. To make amends. And, after all, he’d meant every word he told her this morning. She was beautiful, and wonderful beyond belief. And last night was fantastic. Maybe they’d backed away from things too quickly. Maybe they needed to give themselves another chance. So what if they weren’t each other’s first choice? They’d made each other happy last night. Where was the problem in that? There were plenty worse things they could do.
* * *
“Thank you for coming,” Scout murmured, her voice sounded muffled against his chest. “I knew I could count on you guys.”
Ryan patted her back awkwardly and nodded, forgetting for an instant that she couldn’t see his head.
“Of course you can, Scout,” Siobhan said, answering for both of them. “We’re just sorry we couldn’t get here sooner.”
Ryan looked at his wife over Scout’s head. She was standing at the other side of Nick’s bed, her arm wrapped protectively around her twin’s shoulders. Although her voice had been calm, her face had that walled off look it got at times like these, like she was repressing all the emotions inside her, shoving them right down to the very bottom of her soul. It was a look that had him wanting to give her a hug, too, but he resisted the impulse. He knew, if he tried it, Siobhan would likely push him away and tell him to get his priorities straight. It was Scout who needed their support right now. Scout, and apparently Sinead. Ryan watched as his sister-in-law slipped her hand between the bed rails to clutch Nick’s hand.
“So tell me everything that’s happened,” Ryan demanded, as he turned back to Scout. He was impatient for news. Impatient to be doing something – anything – that might help his friend. They’d been told very little about Nick’s condition. What little they had heard hadn’t been good. “What have they told you so far? Have they determined the cause of the accident yet?”
“No,” Scout said as she pulled herself out of his arms. Anger flared in her eyes now, along with the fear that had etched itself on her face. “They haven’t determined shit. They’re not even looking, Ryan; as far as I can tell. They don’t seem interested in how it happened, or why it happened, or, or anything! It’s like they don’t care.”
“Easy, Jen,” Adam spoke up from the shadows behind the door, where he was slouched against the wall, about as far away as he could get from Sinead in the crowded confines of the room. “It’ll be okay.”
Too bad his voice lacks conviction, Ryan thought. “Of course they care,” he said, his frown deepening as he answered Scout’s charge. If there was one he knew about his brethren on the force, it’s that they would always be concerned about any tragedy that befell one of their own. And should that tragedy happen to fall under the heading of mysterious accident? Well, that would raise their concern to a whole ‘nuther level, wouldn’t it? Besides, this was Nick, who was almost a legend. Smart. Fearless. Unconventional. With a too-hot temper and nerves of ice. There wasn’t hardly a cop in the whole damn county who didn’t know him. By rights, they ought to be tearing up the streets of Oberon right now, leaving no stone unturned in their search to find out what happened. Instead–
“I’m telling you Ryan, it’s like they’re covering up for something,” Scout insisted. “They’re not looking for answers. They’re not doing anything to try and find out who did this.”
“Scout, that’s terrible!” Siobhan looked shocked. She glanced at each of them in turn as she demanded. “What’s wrong with them?”
“Maybe they think they already know what happened,” Ryan suggested quietly, aware of the angry looks his remark earned him, from all three women. He didn’t like the idea any better than they did. And he hated to be the one to say it, but it needed to be said. “I heard he’d been drinking.”
Sinead’s eyes blazed. “Ryan, you prick. You don’t know what you’re talking about. He was not drunk.”
He ignored her, and focused on Scout. “Well?”
Her cool hazel eyes looked right through him. She angled up her chin. “That’s right. But it was his birthday, Ryan, and we had a house full of people. So, you can ask anyone who was there how much he had, and they’ll tell you – not nearly enough to get him as drunk as they said he was. Believe what you like, but something’s wrong.”
His birthday. Crap. Ryan sighed as he cast a quick glance at the figure on the bed. Sorry, bud. Hell of a birthday present that must have been.
“Scout’s right,” Adam said. “Nick had some wine, sure. But not more than two, maybe three glasses, spaced out over a couple of hours, along with a big meal. He wasn’t drunk.”
“Wine, huh?” Ryan looked at Adam curiously. “Yours, I suppose?”
Adam nodded, his expression mostly hidden by the lack of light. “That’s right. I brought him a case, as a matter of fact, for a birthday present. The rest is still at Scout’s house. Check it out, if you want. You won’t find anything wrong with it. And, in any case, we all had some.” His eyes cut to Sinead and he added, “Most of us, anyway. So, unless you think I was willing to risk poisoning the whole family–”
“Adam, stop it!” Sinead scowled at him. “Of course you didn’t. We all know there’s nothing wrong with the wine. For God’s sake, stop putting stupid ideas in his head. I’m sure he’s got more than enough of his own there, already.”
Adam inclined his head. “Thanks for the show of support.”
Despite the sudden crackle of tension in the air, Ryan couldn’t help but smile. He could always tell when Sinead was scared by the way she tried to bite his head off. He turned to her, inquiringly, “You didn’t drink any though, right? Very suspicious. What were you, afraid to take a chance?”
This time, Sinead’s eyes did more than blaze, they practically shot sparks at him. Ryan waited, smilingly anticipating her come-back. But, for once, she let him down. “This isn’t funny.”
Ryan nodded, sobering along with her. “You’re right. It’s not. I was just trying to tease you into a better mood.” He turned to Scout. “And, for what it’s worth, I don’t think he was drunk. I was just pointing out what I’d heard.”
The idea that Nick had been falling down drunk when he crashed, would be a damn good reason for a white-wash, though. No one on the force would want to jeopardize Nick’s name or reputation, or his pension either, by blowing the whistle on him. And Ryan wasn’t so sure he didn’t agree with that logic. Why not be discreet? After all the years Nick had put into the job, he deserved better than the disgrace that would come from being taken down for something like this.
On the other hand, if that wasn’t the case– “Okay, so, he wasn’t drunk when he decided to—what? Where was he going anyway?”
“I don’t know.”
Ryan stared at Scout in surprise. “You don’t know?”
She shrugged. “He didn’t say. He just... left.”
“Did you guys have a fight, or something?” Nick driving off in a rage was not that hard to imagine. Unfortunately, Nick driving off in a drunken rage was even less of a stretch.
Scout shook her head. “No.”
She didn
’t look like she was lying, but she had been an actress, so anything was possible. What was she hiding? “Scout, he must have said something. How can I help if you won’t tell me what happened?”
“She’s telling the truth.” Adam again. Ryan turned once more toward the door, frowning just a little. He wished the guy would move out of the shadows, this peering into the dark bullshit was getting on his nerves. “We’d just finished dinner, everyone was getting along fine. Then Nick went into the kitchen to make coffee, and that’s the last time we saw him. No one even knew he was gone ‘til we got the phone call.”
“Je-sus,” Ryan sighed. He shook his head. He could see now why there was no investigation. A houseful of people all sticking to the same, lame story. All claiming a drunk guy wasn’t drunk. All swearing they had no idea where he was going, or why. They were lucky they hadn’t all been hauled in for obstruction of justice. Or suspicion to commit conspiracy. Or something.
“He wasn’t drunk, Ryan,” Scout repeated, quietly pleading. “And I don’t think he decided to skip out on his party ‘cause he wanted a joy ride, either. Something happened. This wasn’t an accident. I can feel it. I know.”
Ryan nodded. It made no sense, what she was saying, but all the same, it fit. And it felt right to him, too. More right than anything else he’d heard. “Okay, well, I still have a few days of vacation left. I’ll poke around, see what I can find.”
There were tears in Scout’s eyes, she blinked them back. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Ryan turned to his wife. “I might as well get started now. You coming with?”
Siobhan hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. “I think I’ll stay here a while longer, if that’s okay. You probably don’t need me tagging along with you anyway.”
No, probably he didn’t. He would have liked it, though. But, all the same, he nodded. “Okay, honey. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Siobhan bit her lip. Her were eyes dark with the worry he knew she’d never admit to. “You’ll be careful?”
He smiled reassuringly, hoping she could see all the love in his heart. “Always.”
* * *
Ryan exited Nick’s room, only to collide with Liam in the hallway outside.
“Henderson.” the younger man blurted. “Oh, hey, man, how’re you doin’? Back from the honeymoon already, huh?”
Ryan looked at him, surprised. “McKnight. What are you doing here?”
“Just swung by to see Nick.” Liam nodded, a little nervously, in the direction of the door. “Have you been? How is he today?”
“Not good. What d’you want with him?”
Liam’s eyebrows rose. “Want with him? What kind of question is that, dude?”
Considering the general mood of antipathy that marked Nick’s relationship with Liam, Ryan thought it a very good question. He stared back at Liam, waiting for an answer.
“Look, it’s no biggie, right? Dude’s in the hospital. I figured I’d drop by, see how he’s doing, maybe run a couple questions by him.
Questions about what? Ryan’s eyes narrowed, he studied the younger man suspiciously. “Not much to see. He’s unconscious.”
“Still?” Liam’s jaw dropped and, for an instant, so did the casual facade. He looked very young and very desperate. “Did they say when they think he might wake up?”
“They’re not saying much of anything, at this point. What kind of questions d’you have for him? Maybe it’s something I’d know the answer to?”
“No.” Liam shook his head. “It’s, uh…it’s private.” His gaze focused once more on the door to Nick’s room, as if he was determined to gain entrance, determined to verify Nick’s condition for himself. Determined to do something, not necessarily something good.
Ryan felt his jaw tighten. “I think you better come back another time, McKnight. There’s kind of a lot of people in there right now. Too many, actually. Nurse’ll probably be along to kick some of them out any minute now.” In fact, Ryan was surprised they hadn’t been kicked out already. It had been entirely too easy to gain access to Nick’s room. Either the construction had everyone rattled, or someone had been pulling strings – but who? And, even more importantly—why?
Questions. Too many questions. And he didn’t have answers for any of them. But, he would.
He nodded toward the exit. “C’mon, I’ll walk you out.”
Liam cast one, last look at the door, and shook his head, his expression hardening. “Forget it,” he said as he pivoted on his heel and headed back the way he’d come. “I can find my own way.”
Ryan watched him go. “Well, Nick, my man, this is one screwy mess you’ve got going on here,” he sighed quietly. “What kind of crap did you get mixed up in this time?”
Chapter Twenty Eight
As soon as Marsha walked through the front door, Sam could tell something was wrong. “How’s Nick?” he asked, fearing the worst when he caught sight of her eyes, red-rimmed and puffy, as though she’d been crying.
Marsha shrugged. “I don’t know.” Her voice sounded tired and dull, almost lifeless. She hung her keys on the rack by the door and kicked off her shoes. “The doctors are saying there’s no change. But, I think... he may be dying.”
Dying! Sam stared at her in alarm. “What makes you say that?”
“Because that’s what Scout thinks. I think she can sense it and she, she–” Tears formed again in her eyes. She shook her head. “There’s nothing I can do to help them, Sam. She won’t let me. She won’t even try!”
She sounded so wistful that it tore him apart. “Try what, angel? What can you do, except be there for her? What more can any of us do?”
“Oh, you’re right, I suppose.” Her mouth twisted bitterly. “I can’t do anything, really. Not anymore. I could, once, but now–”
Her chin started to tremble. He reached for her just as she broke, and held her close.
“I just feel so helpless,” she said between sobs. “So useless, so... so lost.”
“Lost!” He pulled back to look at her. “You’re not lost, angel. You’re exactly where you belong. Right here. With me.”
She nodded, and a watery smile curved her lips, but her eyes still looked bleak. “What am I gonna do, Sam?” she asked sadly. “It’s not coming back, is it? Not ever?”
It was the same question he’d been wrestling with himself, and though he had yet to find an answer, he was not ready to admit defeat. “I don’t know, Marsha. But never’s a very long time. I wouldn’t count on much of anything lasting that long.”
“It’s so hard, living like this. I miss it all so much.”
Sam nodded. “I miss it, too.” He thought for a moment and then added, “I have an idea. Why don’t we go out to the cabin for the night – just you and me? School’s out, and Jasmine can keep an eye on the boys while we’re gone. Maybe we were wrong to let Ostara pass without a ceremony to mark it. Maybe you need to keep trying; to keep the connection open.”
Marsha shook her head. “I don’t know, Sam. I have tried. You know I have.”
“Well, maybe not enough. You told me once that, after Celeste died, the only thing that kept you from falling apart was continuing the traditions you two once shared. Maybe it’s the same now. Maybe it will help to keep you grounded.”
“You could be right,” she sighed. “I guess. Maybe–”
“Good,” Sam said, forestalling any further discussion. “Then we’re agreed.” They’d talked about the problem enough, it was time to do something. He planted a brief kiss on her lips, gave her shoulders a final squeeze and turned her toward the hall that led to their room. “Now, come on, angel, let’s go and get ready.”
* * *
The gate was locked when Liam returned to TLV. He could see several of the men working on the grounds, but though he honked his horn and yelled at them to let him in, they pretended not to notice. In the end, he had to use his cell phone to call the house and get Cara to open the gate.
She was waiting for h
im in the hallway when he got inside, hands on her hips, wearing an expression that just missed being sullen thanks to the flush on her cheeks.
Sullen or not, Liam had to work hard to suppress the impulse to hug her—a bad idea, for so many reasons.
“Don’t you know Gregg doesn’t allow cell phones here?” Cara’s voice matched her expression. It was cold, disinterested, impersonal. “I should take it away from you.”
Her chill tone made Liam wince, still he met her eyes and held them until her gaze faltered. He’d anticipated her bad temper. After last night, he’d figured she’d probably hate him. What he hadn’t realized was how much that would hurt. He wanted nothing more than to touch her face, her hair. To tell her he was sorry. To promise that he’d make things right, somehow. But that was one promise he couldn’t make. So, he ignored her taunt and asked some questions of his own. “What’s up with the gate? How come it was locked?”
Her eyes still averted, Cara shrugged and seemingly addressed her remarks to some point over his right shoulder. “That’s one of the new rules. From now on, I’m supposed to keep it shut 24/7. You’re lucky I let you in at all.”
“Well, thank you,” he said. “I appreciate it.”
The color in her cheeks deepened as Cara nodded. She had her arms crossed tightly over her chest now and another moment passed in silence before she finally looked at him again. “So, where is she, anyway?”
He gazed at her inquiringly. “She, who?”
“Your friend. The one with the bakery? Gregg said you were supposed to be bringing her back with you.”
Bring Chenoa here? Liam shook his head. “No. She was busy.” She was also not getting anywhere within miles of this place. Not if he had any say in the matter.
“Oh.” Cara digested the idea for a moment. “That’s a surprise, huh? I bet he’s not going to like that too much.”
Liam studied her face. Gregg wouldn’t like it, but Cara was looking almost gleeful. Was she that anxious to see him get in trouble?
He sighed wearily and turned toward the stairs. “Whatever. Look, I’m beat, I’m going up to my room to lie down.”