The Obsession (37 page)

“In custody. I don’t know where they’re taking him, probably later today. News is all over. I spent some time reading on my phone last night. It’s all over the news. They broke your connection to Bowes. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter anymore. I should never have let it matter so much. How long do I have to stay in here? I want to go home.”

“They’ll want to look you over, but they said you could probably go home today.”

“I need to go home, Xander, but I need to see him first. I need to see Chaffins. I never saw or spoke to my father, but I’m going to see and speak to Chaffins.”

“Okay. Let’s see about getting you out of here, and see what Mason can do.”

It took two hours, a lot of paperwork, a lot of warnings, and she had to leave in a wheelchair, use a side entrance where Mason had a car waiting.

He helped her stand, then just held her. “You’ve looked better.”

“I’ve felt better.”

With his help she eased into the car while Xander and Tag took the backseat.

“The press are all over town. If you do this, you can’t avoid them completely.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“He had a press pass,” Mason said as he drove. “He came to briefings,
booked a motel room—though he stayed in the camper, too. Even when he wasn’t using it for other reasons.”

Just a smart, nerdy kid who’d gone to a school dance with her, who’d put a couple clumsy moves on her, easily brushed off.

And a monster, all along.

“He held his victims there—like Bowes and the cellar.”

“Yeah. Different campgrounds, different names. He’s collected several IDs over the last several years. He’s got skills, computer skills.”

“He always did.”

“He kept a log of his victims—names, locations, dates. He has photos of them. We’ve got enough evidence to put him away for a dozen lifetimes. You’ll never have to worry about him again.”

“I’m not. I won’t. You’ve told the uncles I’m okay.”

“Yeah, I talked to them. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t want them to. I’ll call them as soon as I get home.”

“Then you’re taking one of those pills,” Xander said, “and zoning out.”

“I probably won’t argue about that one. Are you still going to see Bowes?”

“I will.” Mason nodded. “But it can wait.”

He drove into town, pulled into the slot closest to the station house they’d cleared for him. The minute Xander helped Naomi out of the car, reporters rushed toward them, shouting.

“Tag, too. He should see the dog, too.”

Sam Winston opened the door for them, stepped out.

“Every one of you keep back, and stop yelling or I’ll have every last one of you arrested for disturbing the peace. This is my town, and I’ll do it.”

He closed the door, took Naomi’s hand. “This is your town, too. Are you feeling up to this? You’re certain?”

“Yes. It won’t take long.”

Not so different, she thought, no, not so different, from that police station so long ago. They’d have put her father in one of the cells in the back, behind the steel door.

“Mason, Xander, and Tag. All of us.”

It hurt to keep her back straight, but she’d deal with it. She needed to walk in, unbowed. When she did, Chaffins rolled off the bunk where he’d sprawled. And, despite the blackened eyes, the bruised, swollen, and taped nose, the split lip, he smiled, showing gaps from missing teeth.

“Kid brother, grease monkey, and your little dog, too. Afraid of me, Naomi?”

“Not in the least. I just wanted us all to have a look at you in what’s now your natural habitat.”

“I’ll get out,” he snapped as Tag growled low in his throat.

“No, you won’t.”

“I’ll get out, and come for you. You’ll always look over your shoulder.”

“No, I won’t.” She laid a hand on Xander’s arm, felt it vibrate. “Would you give us a minute?”

“Sure.” But Xander stepped up to the cell first, whipped a hand through quick as a snake, rapped Chaffins against the bars. She couldn’t hear what Xander murmured in his ear, but it drained the color from Chaffins’s face.

“Fuck you! I should’ve beat you to fucking death.”

“But you didn’t,” Xander said easily, and, stepping back, looked at Naomi. “You don’t move from this spot unless it’s back.”

“Don’t worry.” She took his hand, kissed his bruised knuckles. “You, too, Mason. Just for one minute.”

“I’m on the door,” he said.

Naomi waited, studying Chaffins, seeing the boy he’d once been, the monster he was.

“They might write books about you.”

“Damn right, they will.”

“Even make movies. You can have the sick glory your kind enjoys. I’m fine with that. But you and I, and everyone else, will know that when you came for me, you lost. You lost, Chaffins. I put my father in a cell, and he once meant something to me. Now I’ve put you in one, and you mean nothing.”

“You got lucky. Next time—”

“Dream about it. I hope you do. Every cold, dark night, dream about me.”

“You’ll dream about me.”

“No. I’ll forget you, just like I forgot you years ago. I’m the daughter of a monster. Monsters don’t scare me. Come on, Tag. Let’s go get you a Milk-Bone.”

“Come back here! You come back here, I’m not finished with you.”

“But I’m finished with you.”

She kept walking.

“Feel better?” Xander asked her.

“Yes. Yes, I do. But oh God, I’ll feel better once I get home and take that pill.”

She closed her eyes on the drive so she could focus on pushing through the pain. She had only to get home now, let everything go.

She breathed out relief when the car stopped. “Definitely drugs, but I’d really like to sit—sprawl out on the deck for— Whose car is that?”

Before Mason could speak, the front door of her house flew open.

“Oh God. Oh God.” Tears spilled as Seth yanked open her door.

“Don’t you think about getting out by yourself. I’m going to carry you.”

“You came, you’re here. You’re both here. How? No, you can’t carry me. I can walk.”

“You’re not walking anywhere.” Harry eyeballed Xander. “You’re Xander?”

“Yeah. I’ve got her.”

To settle it, Xander slid his arm under her legs, wrapped the other around her back, gently lifted her.

“Take her right up to bed. We’ve got it all ready for her.”

“No, please. I’m okay. I’d really like to sit out on the deck. I need to hug both of you.”

“I’ll get pillows.” Seth rushed off.

“I made pink lemonade, remember?”

“With crushed ice.” She took Harry’s hand as Xander carried her. “When did you come? How did you get here so fast?”

“Private jet. We’ve got connections. My baby girl,” he murmured, kissed her hand. “Your people said we could come in, Mason. They’d cleared it. And you’d gotten a crew in to . . .”

“Yeah. It’s clean,” he said to Naomi.

By the time they got her to the deck, Seth was fussing with pillows, with a light throw. And had a little vase of flowers on the small table.

“There now, set her right down.” As Xander did, Seth went down on his knees, wrapped arms around her. “My sweetheart, my baby.”

“Don’t cry, don’t cry. I’m okay.”

“She needs a pill. I’m sorry,” Xander added, “but she really needs the pain pill.”

“I’ll get you some lemonade to wash it down. Do you want lemonade?” Harry asked Xander.

“I’d about kill for a beer.”

“I’m going to get you a beer. Mason?”

“I have to go. I’ll be back, but I have to go right now.”

“You be here for dinner. I’m going to make something spectacular.”

As Harry hurried inside, Seth pushed to his feet. Still weeping, he turned, enfolded Xander.

“Ah.” Xander looked into Naomi’s wet, smiling eyes. “Okay.”

“You are now and forevermore a hero to me.” Sniffling, Seth stepped back. “She is the light of my life. She and Mason are the lights of our lives.”

“She brightens up mine, too.”

“I’ve got to go.” Mason kissed Seth’s cheek. “Sit down. Take a breath.”

“Not yet. This boy—handsome,” he added with a wiggle of his eyebrows for Naomi. “He needs some ice for those knuckles. I hope you beat the crap out of that vicious little shit.”

“Broke his nose, knocked out three teeth,” Naomi said.

“Well done.”

Harry came out with a tall glass filled with crushed ice and frothy pink liquid and garnished with a twist of lemon. He handed it to Naomi, then handed a beer—in a pilsner—to Xander. Then, as Seth had, he wrapped his arms around Xander.

“I’m Harry, and this is my best girl. It’s very nice to meet you, Xander.”

“Nice to meet you.” He pulled a pill bottle from his pocket, tapped one out. “Take this.”

“Actually, I want to hold off just until—”

“Take it.”

She sighed, but swallowed the pill. “Oh, Harry, nobody makes pink lemonade like you.”

“Could you eat? Something soft and soothing. Cheesy eggs on toast?”

Tears just flooded up again. “My favorite sick-day meal, Harry.”

“I’m going to make you some eggs, both of you. And I’m going to fix this amazing dog something special. No kibble for you today, my brave boy.”

Tag sent him a look of adoration, laid a head on Harry’s leg. “Some beef. We’ll call it Beef à la Tag.”

When Harry went in, Tag limped after him. Before Xander could sample the beer, Seth bustled out with a zip-top bag of ice.

“Here now. Why don’t you sit on the glider? Naomi can put her legs in your lap. You’ll ice that hand, drink your beer. And look at this beautiful view. It’s the best day of our lives. How’s your pillow, honey?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“When you’re ready, Xander’s going to carry you upstairs so you can sleep awhile. We’ll all be right here. Just right here.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’m going to help Harry. You call if you need anything.”

She smiled, sipped lemonade when he went inside. “It’s starting to feel like a dream. Did you know they were here?”

“Mason told me. They flew in early this morning.”

“You’re going to like them.”

“I already like them. What’s not to like? I’ve got a beer and I’m getting cheesy eggs.” He had to set the ice aside to dig the phone out of his pocket. “I’ll answer later. I’ve been getting calls and texts for hours. Everybody wants to know how you’re doing, come see you. Bring food, flowers, Jesus knows.”

“Everybody?”

“Name somebody. I bet they’ve called or texted.”

Like family, she thought. Friends and community could be like family if you let it happen.

“We could have some over—Harry loves to cook for people. It’s nice they want to. I’m just tired. Pill’s already kicking in.”

“Tomorrow. They can come tomorrow if you’re up for it.”

“That’s probably better. It’s okay now.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. I’m not going to ask what you said to him, but thank you for whatever you did say that drained the blood from his body.”

“You finished him off.”

“I finished.” She nodded. “I’m where I want to be, with who I want to be with, and I’m done worrying about blood ties and how people I don’t care about react.”

“Good.”

“And I love this spot. I love looking out at the water, and knowing I will day after day.”

“It’s a good spot. We ought to get married down there in the backyard.”

“It’s a good spot for— What?”

“Fall’s nice, all the color.” Contemplatively he sipped the beer. “October. That’d give you time to do what women think they need for it. Flowers and the dress, whatever.”

“But married? That’s—”

“How it ought to be.” Casually, he rubbed his big hand up and down her calf. “You’ve got until October to get used to it. That’s long enough.”

“You actually consider this a proposal?”

“I think it’s perfect,” Seth said from the doorway, then wiped his eyes and stepped back inside.

“I’ll get you a ring. We’ll make a good life here.”

“I haven’t said I’d—”

“You will,” he said easily. “I love you, Naomi. That’s the start, the finish, and everything in between.” He looked at her, those strong blue eyes. “You love me.”

“I do. I really do. I just never thought about getting married.” She took his injured hand, laid the ice over it again. “But I think I could get used to it.”

“Good. October. Anything else is negotiable.”

“The uncles are going to want one hell of a show.”

He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t they? Shows are fine, as long as there’s this.”

He leaned over, touched his lips to hers.

As long as there’s love, she thought, sighing into the kiss. And the good, strong place to build a life together.

A life of sunrises and lilacs, of friends and quiet moments.

And a really good
dog.

Nora Roberts
is the #1
New York Times
bestselling author of more than two hundred novels. She is also the author of the bestselling In Death series written under the pen name J. D. Robb. There are more than five hundred million copies of her books in print. Visit her website at NoraRoberts.com, and visit her on Facebook at Facebook.com/NoraRoberts.

Looking for more?
Visit Penguin.com for more about this author and a complete list of their books.
Discover your next great read!