Jeffery Deaver - Twisted - The Collected Stories of Jeffery Deaver

He told her he was too tired, hung up, and hurried back to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, he scraped off the last bit of glue and with shaking hands he opened the flap.

He pulled the card out.

On the front was a picture of a Victorian couple, holding hands and looking out over a snowy backyard as candles glowed around them.

He took a deep breath and opened the card.

It was blank.

And Dennis Linden understood that all his fears were true. There was only one reason to give someone a blank card. She and her lover were too afraid of being caught to write anything — even a harmless note. Hell, now that he thought about it, a blank card was far worse than an inscribed one — the understood message was of such deep love and passion that words wouldn’t convey what they felt.

The little things...

Something within his mind clicked and he knew without a doubt that Mary was seeing someone and probably had been for months.

Who?

Somebody at the company, he bet. How could he find out who’d gone with her to San Francisco in September? Maybe he could call the company and pretend to be somebody with an airline, asking about travel records. Or an accountant? Or he could call the men in her company phone directory...

Rage consumed him.

Dennis tore the card into a dozen pieces, flung them across the room, then fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a half hour. Trying to calm himself.

But couldn’t. He kept replaying all the opportunities Mary’d had to cheat on him. Her church bake sales, her drives to and from work, her lunch hours, the nights she and Patty (well, she claimed it was Patty) would stay in the city after shopping and a play...

The phone rang. Was it her? he wondered. He grabbed the receiver. “Yeah?”

There was a pause. Sid Farnsworth said, “Den? You okay?”

“Not really, no.” He explained what he’d found.

“Just a... You said it was blank?”

“Oh, you bet it was.”

“And it wasn’t addressed to anybody?”

“Nope. That’s the point. That’s what makes it so bad.”

Silence. Then his friend said, “Tell you what, Den... I’m thinking maybe you shouldn’t be alone right now. How ’bout you meet Doris and me for a drink?”

“I don’t want a goddamn drink. I want the truth!”

“Okay, okay,” Sid said fast. “But you’re sounding a little freaked out, man. Let me come over, we’ll watch the game or something. Or go up the road to Joey’s.”

How could she do this to him? After everything he’d done for her! He’d put food in her mouth, a roof over her, he’d given her a Lexus. He satisfied her in bed. He struggled to keep his temper in check. And the one time he hit her... hell, he apologized right after and bought her the car to make up for it. He did all of this for her and she didn’t appreciate it one bit.

Lying whore...

Where the hell was she? Where?

“What’d you say, Den? I couldn’t hear you. Listen, I’m on my way—”

He looked at the phone then dropped it into the cradle.

Sid lived only ten minutes away. Dennis had to leave now. He didn’t want to see the man. He didn’t want his friend to talk him out of what he had to do.

Dennis stood up. He went to his dresser and took something that he’d hidden not long ago. A Smith & Wesson .38 revolver.

He pulled on his down jacket — a birthday present from Mary last October, one that she’d probably bought on her way to a hotel to meet her lover — and dropped the gun into his pocket. Outside he climbed into his Bronco and sped down the driveway.

Dennis Linden was nobody’s fool.

He knew the location of all the watering holes between Mary’s office and the house — places she’d be inclined to stop at with a lover. But he also knew where she’d be likely to go on the way home from the mall. (He regularly made stops at many of them just to see if he could catch her.) He hadn’t snared her yet but tonight he felt that luck was on his side.

And he was right.

Mary’s black Lexus was parked outside of the Hudson Inn.

He skidded to a stop in the middle of the driveway and leapt out of the truck. A couple driving toward the exit had to swerve out of his way and they honked at him. He slammed his fist against their hood, shouting, “Go to hell!” They stared in terror. He pulled the gun from his pocket, walked up to the window and peered inside.

Yes, there was his wife: blonde, trim, a heart-shaped face. And she was sitting next to her lover.

The man must have been ten years younger than Mary. He wasn’t handsome and he had a belly. How could she be seeing someone like him? How on earth? He didn’t look rich either — he was wearing a cheap, unstylish suit. No, there was only one reason to see him... He must be good in bed.

Dennis could taste the familiar metallic flavor of his rage.

And then he realized that Mary was wearing the navy blue dress that he’d bought for her last Christmas! He’d purposely picked a high-necked one so she couldn’t go flaunting her breasts at every man she passed. And he realized that she’d picked it today as a private joke — an insult to him. Dennis pictured this fat slob slowly undoing the buttons, slipping his pudgy fingers under the cloth while Mary whispered words that this fat asshole would hear every time he looked at the blank Christmas card.

Dennis Linden wanted to scream.

He spun away from the window and strode to the front door of the inn. He pushed it open and stepped inside, shoving a waiter out of the way. The man fell to the floor.

The maître d’ saw the gun and gasped, backing away. Other patrons too.

Mary glanced at him, still smiling from her conversation with fat boy, then her face went white. “Dennis, honey, what—?”

“Am I doing here?” he raged sarcastically.

“My God, a gun!” The boyfriend lifted his hands. He stumbled backward and his bar stool fell over.

“I’m here, honey, ” he shouted to Mary, “to do what I should’ve done a long time ago.”

“Dennis, what’re you talking about?”

“Who’s he?” the chubby man asked, his eyes huge with fear.

“My husband,” Mary whispered. “Dennis, please, put the gun down!”

“What’s your name?” Dennis shouted at the man.

“I... It’s Frank Chilton. I—”

Chilton? Dennis remembered him. He was married to Patty, Mary’s good friend from the church committee. She was betraying her friend too.

Dennis lifted the gun.

“No, please!” Frank pleaded. “Don’t hurt us!”

Mary stepped in front of her lover. “Dennis, Christ! Please put the gun away. Please!”

He muttered, “You cheat on somebody, there’s going to be payback. Oh, you bet there is.”

“Cheat? What do you mean?” The actress within Mary was looking innocent as a child.

A scream from nearby, a woman’s voice. “Frank! Mary!”

Dennis glanced toward the bar and saw a young woman freeze as she stepped out of the rest room, a horrified look on her face. She ran to Frank and put her arm around him.

What was going on?

Dennis was confused. It was Patty.

Eyes wide, breathless, Mary gasped, “Dennis, did you think I was seeing Frank?”

He said nothing.

“I ran into Patty at the mall,” she explained. “I told you that. We decided to have a drink and she called Frank. I invited you too. But you didn’t want to come. How could you think—?” She was crying. “How could you—”

“Oh, nice try. I know what you’ve been up to. Maybe it’s not him. But it is somebody.” He aimed the gun at his wife. “Too many discrepancies, honey. Too many things don’t quite add up, honey. ”