Linwood Barclay - Too Close to Home

But I didn’t knock him down, or drag him across the yard, or grab him by the neck. I turned around and walked back to my truck, nearly blind with rage. Maybe that’s why I didn’t see Lance Garrick in time.

As I was rounding the back of the trailer, I caught a momentary glimpse of something down there, hiding behind it, but there wasn’t time to react as this shadow leapt up and came at me.

I only had time to dodge slightly to the right, which meant the fist coming at me didn’t connect squarely with my nose, but caught the side of my cheek. Even though its path was slightly deflected, it still hurt like hell and kept me from seeing the other fist, coming a fraction of a second later and at the same rate of speed. That one caught me just under the ribs and completely took my breath away.

I collapsed to the pavement, clutching my side, writhing and moaning. I looked up at Randall Finley’s driver, standing over me and grinning.

“Not fun to get sucker punched, is it?” Lance asked. “Who’s laughing now, dickwad?”

I was gasping, still trying to get my breath.

Lance had knelt down, and I could feel his hot breath on my ear as he continued, “Tough break about your kid, huh, motherfucker? Guess he’s got some of the same problems you got. Maybe, if they don’t actually give him the chair, when he gets out in twenty years, the two of you can go to anger management classes together.”

And then he spit in my ear.

From the pavement, the world at right angles, I watched him walk up the street, whistling, then get in a blue Mustang and drive off.

Driving home, feeling the pain in my gut more than the blow to my face, I phoned Natalie Bondurant. Not to get some sort of restraining order against Lance, but to ask her a question. I got her voicemail, so I left my question with her and asked her to call me when she had a chance.

Ellen met me at the door and said, “Hey, I’ll just warm up your din-”

And then she saw my face. I told her what had happened. Not just my encounter with Lance, but my discussion with Leonard Putnam. I wasn’t sure which made her angrier. Putnam, I think. She knew I had to take some of the blame for what had happened with Lance. I’d sucker punched him days earlier, and he’d returned the favor.

She got an ice pack, wrapped in a towel, for my face. I tried holding it there while I ate my dinner. It hurt to chew, but I was hungry enough to put up with the aggravation. Ellen was pouring me some coffee when there came a soft rapping on the kitchen door.

We looked at each other warily. At least we knew it wasn’t Conrad. He’d have tried to walk straight in.

“Stay,” I said to Ellen, and got up from the table. I pulled the curtain back an inch and saw Penny Tucker standing on the deck. I unlocked the door that was so rarely locked before, and opened it. “Penny. Come in.”

She did. She was a pretty girl, petite, with slightly olive colored skin, indicating, I thought, a Mediterranean background. “Thanks,” she said. “How’s Derek?”

“Not so good,” I said. “He’s in jail. The judge wouldn’t allow him to post bond.”

“How did you get past the police?” Ellen asked.

I figured she’d snuck past, just like last time, but she said, “I talked to him. He let me come down.”

Ellen and I exchanged glances. I said, “He’s really there to protect a crime scene, not run interference for us.”

“What can we do for you, Penny?” Ellen asked, her voice slightly icy. She hadn’t forgotten, and neither had I, how our son had been treated by her parents the last time he’d gone to see her.

“Look,” she said. “I’m not even supposed to be here, and my parents are going to kill me”-she paused a moment, maybe second-guessing her choice of word-“when they find out I’ve snuck out of the house.”

“You should call them,” I said, pointing to the phone. “They’ll be worried sick about you.”

“Derek, he must have told you, what happened when he came to my house.”

“Yes,” I said.

“I just felt awful about that. But the policeman, Mr. Duckworth?”

We nodded.

“He’d been to the house earlier that day, about the phone calls. He figured out Derek had phoned me from the Langleys’ house, and then he came to see us, to see me, and, like, he made me tell him everything, because my parents were there, and they said I had to tell, so I told him he’d been in the house right before they all got killed.” She was talking so quickly she was starting to run out of breath.

“It’s okay, Penny,” I said. “Just take your time.”

“But he didn’t do it!” she said.

“We know that,” Ellen said. “We know Derek couldn’t do that.”

“The detective, he just thinks I’m covering up for Derek so he won’t get in trouble, and my parents are all like, ‘You better tell the truth or you’ll be in trouble, too.’ But I am telling the truth. Derek called me later, in the middle of the night, from your house, from the kitchen, right here, he was totally freaked out. He told me about hearing the shots and someone walking around and then having to step over Adam to get out and then I came over the next night, remember?”

“Yes,” I said. When we heard noises in the night, at the back door, and called the police. “You told this to the police?”

She nodded. “Derek told me he wanted to tell you guys, but he was scared. He was scared about the killer finding out he was there, because he thought that might end up getting in the papers or on the news, you know? And he was worried about what you’d do if you found out about this plan he had, to use the house while the Langleys were away.” She looked away, embarrassed. I could have told her stories about when Ellen and I were dating, to make her feel less mortified, but this didn’t seem like the time. “I didn’t want to have to tell Mr. Duckworth all this, not in front of my parents, but I figured, if he knew the truth, even if it was, like, totally embarrassing for me and Derek, he’d understand why Derek hadn’t come forward, and he’d see that Derek didn’t kill the Langleys.”

“That’s not how it’s worked out,” I said.

Penny looked frustrated enough to stomp her foot. “That policeman, he just won’t listen.”

That nearly brought a smile to my sore and wounded face. “Yeah, well, we know how you feel,” I said.

“What if I talked to the judge?” Penny said. “What if I told him I was with him after, that the things he told me, I could tell he didn’t do it?”

“You can’t talk to the judge, but you can talk to Derek’s lawyer,” I said. “She’ll be more interested in hearing what you have to say in Derek’s defense than Barry is. He thinks he has this thing all figured out.”

“What if my parents won’t let me talk to her?” Penny asked.

“They can’t do that,” Ellen said, then, looking at me, “Can they?”

“Why would your parents want to stop you?” I asked.

“They’ve never really approved of me going out with Derek anyway, you know?” she said.

“No,” Ellen said, trying to keep her voice even. “We didn’t know. Why would that be?”

“I guess they thought we were spending too much time together, that I wasn’t paying attention to school, which is totally not true, because my marks are as good as they’ve ever-”

I held up a hand. “It’s okay,” I said. “I think most boys are viewed with suspicion by the parents of their girlfriends. It’s been that way for a thousand years.”

“But then, after the detective came to the house, they wouldn’t even let me talk to him. Because he was, you know, a suspect.”

“Penny,” I said, “you should call your folks, tell them where you are. We can drive you home, or they can come and get you.”