Shattered (21 page)

"I got sidetracked." Scott turned his attention back to Chase. "Sound like something you might find interesting?"

Chase's eyes flickered. Scott was pretty sure he knew what the kid was thinking:
Like I've got a choice.
But for his father's consumption, Chase nodded.

"I guess."

"It okay with you if he comes into the office for a couple of hours a couple of times a week?" Scott asked his brother.

Ryan looked at him kind of hard. Then he looked at Chase, who was just finishing up his second slice of pizza, the same way.

"Why the sudden interest in my kid?"

Out of the corner of his eye Scott saw that Chase was once again looking apprehensive. It was a fleeting expression, as quickly gone, and Chase was once again wolfing down pizza as if it was the most important thing in his life.

"Like I said, he's my nephew."

Ryan shrugged. "If he wants to, it's okay by me."

"Great." Scott stood up. "Well, that's what I came by for. Chase, why don't you help me carry this trash down, and we can go over some times and dates on the way?" Chase looked less than enthused, but he picked up the trash bag Scott hauled out of the kitchen and then, carrying it, followed Scott toward the door. With a hand on the knob, Scott looked back at his brother. "I'll be in touch about Dad. And the other things we talked about."

"Looking forward to it," was Ryan's caustic response.

"So, what else did you and Dad talk about?" Chase asked as he followed Scott down the three flights of stairs to the street. Scott shrugged by way of a reply. Music from the apartments on either side boomed in the stairwell. A couple of college-age kids carrying bicycles came through the building's front door as he and Chase exited. They said hi to Chase, who they obviously knew, and he nodded back. Then Scott and Chase stepped out into the relative quiet of the night.

"Where does the trash go?" Scott looked around at his nephew.

"Around back." Chase led the way around the side of the building. Maybe twenty feet separated the huge old Victorian from its similar neighbor, and the resulting passageway was dark as a tunnel so late at night. At the end of it was an alley that, thanks to the pale moon floating high overhead, was at least light enough so that they could see where they were going. Dumpsters and trash cans crowded close to run-down garages. Reaching the nearest dumpster, Chase heaved his bag inside.

"Did you tell him about me?" Chase asked as Scott followed suit.

"About you stealing his truck, or about the beer-and-pot party you were having with your friends at Grandpa's place?" Scott headed back around toward the front of the house as he spoke.

Chase kept up. "You know."

"Nope. Although I did mention that you told me about your mother getting remarried, so I guess you're going to have to say that you ran into me somewhere if your dad asks about that."

"That's no big deal." Scott could hear the relief in Chase's voice. "I can say I saw you on the street or something, and you stopped to grill me about him. He says you're always sticking your nose in where it isn't wanted, anyway."

"Good to know." It occurred to Scott that by Kid Raising 101 standards he should probably be telling his nephew not to lie to his dad, but given that both of them were already sliding together down that slippery slope, he didn't see much point in worrying about it.

A small front yard bisected by a brick walk led to the street, which was narrow, lined with more once grand Victorian houses, most of which had been turned into low-rent apartments, and had cars parallel-parked on both sides. A single yellowish streetlight glowed on a corner. With that, the moon, and numerous lighted windows, the street was fairly well illuminated.

"So, did all your friends show up at my office today?" Scott asked as they reached his Jeep and he beeped the lock.

"Yeah, they did. Is that why you came by tonight? To check up on us?" Chase's voice took on a belligerent edge.

"To check up on
you.
Did you think I wouldn't? And just so you know, I'm going to keep checking up on you from now on. You do something you're not supposed to, and I'm going to be on you like a duck on a june bug." Scott gave the kid a stern look as he walked around the front of his car to open the door. "Get in."

Chase went wide-eyed. "Get in?"

"You heard me. There's a Thorntons not far from here. I'm going to run you up there real quick."

"I don't have any money."

"Would you quit arguing and get in the damned car?"

Chase got in. Scott did, too, and drove off down the street while his nephew eyed him uneasily.

"You need milk, bread, cheese. Maybe some bologna. Cereal. Doughnuts." The Thorntons anchored an intersection about half a mile away. Reaching it, Scott parked, and he and Chase went into the store. At the entrance, Scott grabbed a couple of plastic shopping baskets and handed one to Chase. "You go that way, I'll go this way. We'll meet in the middle. Get anything you see that I told you, and whatever else you want. Let's make this quick."

Chase obeyed, and their shopping trip took maybe five minutes, max. When they were back in the car heading for Ryan's apartment, Chase shot him a sidelong look.

"My dad's probably going to be pissed that I let you buy us this stuff."

"Tell your dad he can--" Scott broke off before he could add "stick it up his ass," which was what hovered on the tip of his tongue. Instead he segued into, "Call me if he has a problem with it. Tell him it wasn't your fault. I made you come with me."

"That's just going to make him pissed at you."

Scott laughed. "I guess I'll just have to live with that." They were on Maxwell Street now, and as he pulled up in front of the apartment building and stopped, he looked over at Chase. "You need anything else, or anything comes up with your dad, you call me, understand?"

"Sure." From the tone of that, Scott doubted he was going to be getting many calls. Having gathered the grocery bags, Chase was just about to get out of the car when he paused with his hand on the handle to add, "Oh, by the way, I saw your girlfriend tonight. You want to go around checking up on people, you probably ought to be checking up on her about now."

Not sure who he was talking about, Scott squinted at him through the darkness. "My girlfriend?"

"You know, the babe. With the legs. Lisa. We went to this house that some family disappeared from like forever ago--the girls and Rinko made up this club, they want to take on figuring out what happened to that family as kind of a project--and she was there when we got there, just lying in the grass out there in the backyard like she was dead or something. First she said somebody in the house clobbered her over the head, then she changed her mind and said she fell." Chase shrugged. "Whatever, she was knocked cold. She kept rubbing this place over her ear like it hurt." He demonstrated, pushing his fingers through his hair above his right ear.

"What?"
Scott stared at Chase, who shrugged again, as if disclaiming all responsibility. "Is she okay? Where is she now?"

"She was up walking and talking a few minutes after we got there, and she was able to drive herself back to Lexington, so I guess she's okay," Chase said. "But I don't have a clue where she is."

Luckily, Scott did. His thoughts in turmoil, he stared at Chase without really seeing him.

The idea of Lisa being knocked cold, however it had happened, wasn't sitting well with him at all, he discovered.

"Thanks for telling me. Go on back in now. And stay there."

"Of course I'm going to stay there. Dad's awake. I only take his wheels when he's passed out."

Lips thinning, shooting his nephew a warning look but not wanting to take the time to deliver the lecture that bit of provocation clearly called for, Scott waited impatiently until Chase was out of the car and safely back inside the building. Then he headed for University Hospital, driving through the narrow streets with a barely controlled ferocity that was a symptom of his inner unease.

What the hell had she been doing to get herself knocked out?

Whatever had gone down, if he knew Lisa, right now she'd be there at the hospital with her mother.

She was, just as he'd expected. As soon as the elevator reached the fourth floor and he stepped out he saw her. At this time of night, the long, blue-painted hall was nearly deserted except for a nurse pushing a squeaky-wheeled cart into a room just ahead of him. The lighting was bright, the air-conditioning was cold, the place smelled like antiseptic. Lisa was farther down the hall, standing with her back to him just outside her mother's room. Her long black hair spilling down her back, dressed in a pair of loose gray sweatpants and a nondescript white T-shirt that she somehow managed to make look sexy as hell, she seemed to be feeling right at home. Loverboy had his arms around her. She was pressed up against him tighter than a stamp to a letter, kissing him for all she was worth.

Big surprise: He didn't like what he was seeing at all.

15

"Peyton."

It was a curt greeting, uttered in Scott's voice behind her. The sheer unexpectedness of it made Lisa jump. Her lips had just pulled away from Joel's as she finished answering his good-night kiss. Stiffening at the idea that they were under observation from Scott, no less, her arms dropped away from Joel's neck more quickly than they otherwise would have. She hated to acknowledge that she felt absurdly self-conscious as she turned to face Scott.

Their eyes met. The glint in his was disagreeable.

"Buchanan." If anything, Joel's voice held less enthusiasm than Scott's. The two had never liked each other, going all the way back to the time when teenage Joel had frequently roared up to Grayson Springs in the new BMW convertible that had been his sixteenth birthday gift from his parents, honking for her to come out, usually with the car packed with the kids who were part of their crowd, only to encounter the older, bigger, openly contemptuous Scott working on the property. Until Scott had taken to calling him Loverboy--a development that dated to the kiss Scott had observed from his office window--his preferred name for the patrician-looking Joel had been Richie Rich. Joel, for his part, had referred to Scott as "the yard guy."

That was then. This was now.

Neither offered to shake hands.

Pushing her hair away from her face with one hand, Lisa gave Scott a questioning look.

"I came to see Miss Martha." Scott remained unsmiling as he answered her unspoken question. Probably his having seen her kissing Joel was part of the reason he looked so grim. She was perfectly aware of his dog-in-the-manger tendency: He might not have any plans to kiss her himself, but he sure didn't like to see her kissing other guys. This was nothing new; that's the way he had always been. The thought made her frown at him.

"It's kind of late, isn't it?" The abruptness of her tone was pay-back for the hard look he was giving her. Her gaze slid over him. Five-o'clock shadow darkened his chin, she saw, and his hair was starting to wave, as it tended to do after a long day in this kind of heat. He still wore the same suit he'd had on earlier but had taken off the tie, and he looked big and broad-shouldered and surprisingly formidable for a man in a suit. He also looked tired. Of course, she knew how he'd spent a great deal of the previous night, and clearly he'd worked all day. Who wouldn't be tired? She was exhausted herself, among a whole jumble of other things that she was being very careful to keep from thinking about for the moment. Glancing from him to Joel, she couldn't help comparing the two. Her boyfriend's features were more refined, his jaw less pugnaciously square, his blue eyes deeper and less hooded. His blond hair gleamed gold in the unforgiving overhead light. He and Scott were about the same height, but Joel had a slimmer, more elegant build that his trimmer-fitting, European-cut navy suit made the most of. There was no doubt about it, Lisa decided: Taken feature by feature, Joel was definitely the handsomer man.

But Scott was sexier. Sexy enough for her heart to start beating a little faster just because he was there.

"I've been busy. If it's not convenient, I can always go away and come back some other time." Scott's tone was as hard as his expression. If she hadn't been a mature adult, she might well have succumbed to the urge to stick out her tongue at him.

Just then the nurse whose arrival at her mother's bedside to check on the patient had driven Joel from the room emerged through the open door and, finding the three of them gathered there in the hall, smiled impartially at them.

"Looks like she's up for a while," she said cheerily to Lisa as she passed. "Hope you like
House,
because she's settling in to watch a marathon."

"Thanks," Lisa called after her, while Scott's expression turned mocking.

"So, do I go in or not?"

"Knowing your mother, she'll probably be glad of the company," Joel said, and was rewarded for his interference when neither of the principals to the conversation so much as glanced at him.

Instead, Scott lifted his brows at Lisa.

"Since it seems she's planning to stay awake, I'm sure she'll be glad to see you. Go on in." Gesturing toward the open door of her mother's room, Lisa ostentatiously waited until he had disappeared inside before turning back to Joel. The fact that it cost her an effort to switch gears underlined how truly tired and overwhelmed she was, but she summoned her inner resources and deliberately warmed her expression and voice for Joel. That some of that warmth might have been for Scott's benefit, just in case he was listening--which, knowing him, he probably was--she preferred not to acknowledge. "Listen, thanks for coming. You could have waited until tomorrow, though. You didn't have to come straight to the hospital from the airport."

"Sure I did. You're my girl. When you're in trouble, I'm there." Taking both her hands, Joel smiled at her, his sunny blue eyes possessive. Lisa smiled back without disputing the "You're my girl" statement, which she normally would have done in the interests of not letting Joel take too much for granted, again because she was pretty sure that Scott could, if he wished, overhear. Joel brought each of her hands to his mouth in turn and kissed the knuckles. Aware of the interested gazes of a couple of nurses at the nurses' station opposite, feeling suddenly totally grumpy and not in the mood to sort out the reasons why, she could have done without the gesture, which she knew she should have been thinking was romantic. But she kept her smile, then discreetly pulled her hands away as soon as she could.