Jeffery Deaver - Twisted - The Collected Stories of Jeffery Deaver

Ron had tried to get a restraining order but, without any illegal conduct on Harle’s part, the magistrate couldn’t issue one.

Finally, after Harle had stationed himself beside the juniper bush for six nights straight, Ron stormed into the state mental health department and demanded that something be done. The department had implored the boy’s parents to send him to a private-care hospital for six months. The county would pay ninety percent of the fee. The Ebbers agreed and, under an involuntary commitment order, the boy was taken off to Garden City.

But now he was back, kneeling like a soldier beside the infamous juniper bush, only one week after the ambulance had carted him off.

Finally Sheriff Hanlon came on the line.

“Ron, I was going to call you.”

“You knew about him?” Ron shouted. “Why the hell didn’t you tell us? He’s out there right now.”

“I just found out about it myself. The boy talked to a shrink at the hospital. Apparently he gave the right answers and they decided to release him. Keeping him any longer on a dicey order like that, there was a risk of liability for the county.”

“What about liability for my daughter?” Ron spat out.

“There’ll be a hearing in a few weeks but they can’t keep him in the hospital till then. Probably not after the hearing either, the way it’s shaking out.”

Tonight as mist settled on the town of Locust Grove, this beautiful spring night, crickets chirped like greaseless gears, and Harle Ebbers was frozen in his familiar pose, dark eyes searching for a delicate young girl whose father happened to be deciding at that moment that this couldn’t go on any longer.

“Look, Ron,” the sheriff said sympathetically, “I know it’s tough. But—”

Ron slammed the phone into the cradle, nearly tearing it from the wall.

“Honey,” Doris began. He ignored her and as he started for the door she took his arm. She was a strong woman. But Ron was stronger and he pulled away brusquely. Pushed open the screen door and started across the dewy lawn to the park.

To his surprise, and pleasure, Harle didn’t flee. He stood up out of his crouching position and crossed his arms, waiting for Ron to approach.

Ron was athletic. He played tennis and golf and he swam like a dolphin. One hundred laps a day when the country club pool was open. He was slightly shorter than Harle but, as he gazed at the boy’s prominent eyebrows and disturbingly deep-set eyes, he knew in his heart that he could kill the young man. With his bare hands if he had to. All he needed was the slightest provocation.

“Daddy, no!” Gwen screamed from the porch, her voice like a high violin note, resonating through the mist. “Don’t get hurt. It’s not worth it!”

Ron turned back, hissed to his girl, “Get back inside!”

Harle was waving toward the house, “Gwennie, Gweenie, Gwennie...” a frightening grin on his face.

Neighbors’ lights came on, faces appeared in windows and doorways.

Perfect, Ron thought. He makes the least gesture toward me and I’ll kill him. A dozen witnesses’ll back me up. He stopped two feet from Harle, on whose face the grin had fallen away. “I got sprung. They couldn’t make it stick, could they? Make it stick, make it stick, couldn’t make it stick. So I. Got. Sprung.”

“You listen to me,” Ron muttered, fists balling at his side. “You’re real close. You know what I mean? I don’t care if they arrest me, I don’t care if they execute me. You don’t leave her alone, I’m going to kill you. Understand?”

“I love my Gwennie, I love her, love her, loveher, loveher, lover, loverloverlover. She loves me, I love her she loves me I love she loves I love she loves she loves sheloves shelovessheloves-shelovessssss...”

“Come on. Take a swing at me. Come on. Coward! Haven’t got the guts to mix it up like a grown-up, right? You make me sick.”

Harle uncrossed his arms.

Okay, here it comes...

Ron’s heart flexed and an ocean crashed in his ears. He could feel the chill adrenaline race through his body like an electric current.

The boy turned and ran.

Son of a bitch...

“Come back here!”

He was racing down the street on his lanky legs, disappearing into the misty dusk, Ron close behind him.

For a few blocks.

Athletic, yes, but a forty-three-year-old’s body doesn’t have the stamina of someone’s half that age and after a quarter mile the boy pulled ahead and disappeared.

Winded, his side cramping fiercely from the run, Ron trotted back to the house, climbed into his Lexus. Gasping, he shouted, “Doris! You and Gwen stay here, lock the doors. I’m going to find him.”

She protested but he ignored her and sped out of the drive.

A half hour later, having cruised through the entire neighborhood and finding no sign of the boy, he returned home.

To find his daughter in tears.

Doris and Gwen sat in the living room, the shades down and curtains drawn. Doris held a long kitchen knife in her strong fingers.

“What?” Ron demanded. “What’s going on?”

Doris said, “Tell your father.”

“Oh, Daddy, I’m sorry. I thought it was best.”

“What?” Ron strode forward, dropping onto the couch, gripping his daughter by her shoulders. “Tell me!” he cried.

“He came back,” Gwen said. “He was by the bush. And I went out to talk to him.”

“You did what? Are you crazy?” Ron shouted, shaking with rage and fear at what might have happened.

Doris said, “I couldn’t stop her. I tried, but—”

“I was afraid for you. I was afraid he’d hurt you. I thought maybe I could be nice to him and ask him please just to go away.”

Despite his horror, a burst of pride at her courage popped inside of Ron Ashberry.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Oh, Daddy, it was terrible.”

The feeling of pride faded and he sat back, staring at his daughter’s white face. Ron whispered, “Did he touch you?”

“No... not yet.”

“What do you mean, ‘yet’?” Ron barked.

“He said...” Her tearful face looked from her father’s furious eyes to her mother’s determined ones. “He said that when it’s the next full moon, that’s when women get a certain way because of their, you know, monthly thing. The next full moon, he’s going to find me wherever I am...” Her face grew red in shame. She swallowed. “I can’t say it, Daddy. I can’t tell you what he said he’d do.”

“My God.”

“I got so scared, I ran back to the house.”

Doris, her strong-jawed face turned toward the window, added, “And he just stood there, staring at us, kind of singing in this sick voice. We locked the doors right away.” She nodded at the knife, setting it on the table. “I got that from the kitchen just in case.”

She loves me, I love her she loves me I love she loves I love she loves she loves...

His wife continued. “Then you came back and when he saw the car lights he ran off. It looked like he was headed toward his folks’ house.”

Ron grabbed the phone, hit the speed dial.

“This is Ron Ashberry,” he said to the police dispatcher.

“Yessir, is it the boy again?” she asked.

“Hanlon. Now.”

A pause. “Hold, please.”

The sheriff came on the line. “Ron, what the hell’s going on tonight? I’ve had four calls from your neighbors about this thing, shouting, people running around.”

Ron explained about the threats.

“It’s still just words, Ron.”

“Goddamn it, I don’t care about the law! He said the night of the full moon he’s going to rape my little girl. What the hell do you people want?”

“When’s the full moon?”

“I don’t know, how would I know?”