Nightchild

Chapter 60

Nate Stevens pounded on the door of Scott Weber's darkened house before turning the knob in frustration and finding it unlocked. He let himself in and briefly searched about but there was no evidence of his wife ever being there. Frantic, he rushed out the door almost bumping into Scott on the porch steps.

"Stevens, what the hell are you—"

"Where is she?" Nate demanded.

Scott took a step past him, insolently shrugging off the angry hand on his shoulder. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," he slurred, staggering onto the porch.

Nate followed, blocking his way, the strong sweet smell of bourbon permeating the air as Weber sighed impatiently.

"Where's Blythe? What have you done with her?"

"Me?" Scott snorted. "What the hell have you done with her is more like it!" He squinted up at the frenzied gray eyes and gave a derisive laugh. "Oh my, don't tell me you've misplaced another wife. Or maybe she got away before you had a chance to make her one of your victims. Well, good fer 'er...don' worry ol' man, if I do see 'er, rest assured she'll be well taken care of."

"You fucking bastard, if you've hurt her, I'll kill you!"

"You're becomin' a real expert at killin', aren't ya?" Scott smirked drunkenly.

Nate shoved him backwards and the veterinarian caught himself against the porch railing and came back up swinging with misguided fervor. Once, twice Nate easily dodged the flailing punches before catching Scott dead center between the legs with his foot. As Weber doubled over with a groan, Nate gave an upper cut to his chin that sent him spiraling off his feet and tumbling down the steps. In seconds, Nate was on top of him, rage raising his voice to a crescendo. "Why did you lie about the ring? It was you, wasn't it? You're the one that raped her! You did it, didn't you? Didn't you?" he screamed, lifting his fist to hit him again.

Weber put his arms up to deflect the blow. "Wait, wait! What are you talking about? What ring?"

Nate pressed his knee into the broad chest and yanked up on the collar of Scott's shirt as buttons popped onto the ground. With a free hand, he reached in his back pocket and shook out the folded enlargement of the picture he'd taken from Scott's photo album. "This fuckin' ring! The one on your hand with the lightning bolt through it."

Scott took the photo in both hands and held it close to his face. "Jesus Christ, man, I'd forgotten all about it! Why—what does it have to do with anything?

Nate released him and sat breathlessly on the ground next to him. "When I asked you, you denied knowing anything about it."

Releasing a sigh, Scott let his head fall back against the soft earth and closed his eyes, trying to pull his inebriated thoughts together. "You said something about a class ring or somethin' like a dagger across it. I dunno, I just didn't put two an' two together. You caught me off guard. I'd had lunch with Blythe. She'd mentioned how jealous you were. I thought you were there ta chew my ass out."

Nate bent close and peered deeply into Scott's hesitant eyes. "Tell me about it now, Weber...everything!"

Turning his head from the probing eyes, the drunken man cleared his throat. "The ring was mine. I was in college, had been watchin' Blythe for years. She fascinated me from the time she was a tiny thing. Anyway, I had the ring made. It was for her actually. The lightning bolt, the red stone...it was fiery and alive like her. She was gonna turn fourteen soon. Her parents were gonna let her start datin'. I showed the ring ta Phil, mentioned I was plannin' on askin' 'er out, that someday if she wanted, I was gonna give her the ring. I know what you're thinking. She was way too young for me, but I just knew that one day we'd be together.