Linwood Barclay - Too Close to Home

Randy did something I’d rarely seen him do. He went red with embarrassment.

Drew looked back at the phone one last time, as though the gadget itself were the object of his contempt, flipped it shut, then, suddenly, flung it hard at the living room window, shattering it. Ellen jumped. Drew, turning on all of us, his voice full of exasperation, asked, “What’s wrong with those people? How could they. . how could they cheer a man like that on after he admitted something like that?”

None of us had an answer for that.

To Drew, Randy said, “Look, pal, I did what you wanted. I said what you wanted me to say. I came here of my own free will to meet you face-to-face. I can’t help it if the crowd didn’t react the way you wanted them to.”

“You son of a bitch,” Drew said, his gun hand trembling. While he glowered at Randy, I positioned myself in front of the fireplace poker.

A line of sweat ran down Randy’s temple.

“Drew,” I said softly, “the mayor here may have come out of this smelling like a rose right now, but that won’t last. His opponents will seize on that admission. Eventually, it’ll ruin him.”

“Sure,” said Randy. “I’m toast.”

“I don’t know,” Drew said. “This isn’t how I thought it would go.”

“Yeah, well, this isn’t exactly how I expected to be spending my evening either,” Randy said, trying to smile. Here he was, trying to win some sympathy from Drew. I couldn’t recall ever seeing him this desperate.

“What, am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” Drew asked.

I reached behind me for the poker, and was wrong in thinking it was a move I could handle deftly. It clinked against the iron stand as I moved it, and Drew turned and trained his gun on me.

“What was that?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” I said.

“Show me what’s in your hand.”

I displayed the poker and Drew clenched his teeth. “Drop that and go stand over there,” he said, motioning to the bookcase.

“Sure,” I said, letting the poker clang to the floor. “No problem.” I caught the desperate, hopeless look in Ellen’s eyes at that moment. I shifted over and parked myself by the books.

Turning his attention back to the mayor, Drew said, “I should feel sorry for you, you, a guy who screws teenage girls?”

“Look, pal,” Randy said. “There’s a few things you need to understand. First of all, I had no idea your daughter was that young. She looked a lot older, you need to know that from the get-go. I would never have entered into any arrangement with her knowing she was as young as she was. I have certain lines that I won’t cross.”

Drew stared at him.

“Secondly, I never approached her directly. That was handled by an associate of mine, a Mr. Lance Garrick. I’m guessing maybe you already know him, right? He should never have set that up, and I want to say, listen, Lance deserved what he got. I can’t see where anyone would blame you for what you did there.” He forced a laugh. “More than once, I felt like shooting him myself.”

Drew kept looking at him, wondering where he was going with this. I didn’t have any real idea either. I glanced at Ellen. When I looked over her way, something on the bookshelf caught my eye.

Resting on top of a row of books, inches below the next shelf, was a lawn-cutting blade from the tractor. I’d set it there when I’d come back into the house the other day and found Ellen staring out the window at the Langley house.

“The thing is,” Randy said, “there’s a lot of blame to go around here, and let’s face it, you own a bit of that yourself.” His tone wasn’t totally argumentative. He seemed to be trying to make a point with Drew, but I thought it was a risky one.

“Randy,” I said.

“Wouldn’t you agree?” the mayor persisted. “Huh, Drew?”

Drew said, “All I know is, of all the men who took advantage of my daughter, who helped to put her into the ground, there wasn’t one who should have known better more than you.”

Randy didn’t say anything.

“I was with her when she died,” Drew said. “I got released just in time to be with her. I was there with her nearly every minute of her last week. She told me about all the mistakes she made, how much she wished I could have been there through the bad times. And I found her book, her little notebook. She wrote down everything. Phone numbers, names, license plates. Most men, they didn’t give their real names, but with the other information, I was able to piece things together. I’d call a number, get hold of a guy, tell him I wanted to hire him for a job, anything to get a face-to-face with him, you know? Then sound him out, maybe ask him if he knew where I could hire a girl for some fun. Gradually, I found out who some of the sick fucks who used her were. I told her, before she died, that I was going to make it all up to her. I promised her. But I didn’t track you down through that book. But I found your buddy Lance. He did your dirty work for you. He set things up for you. He told me everything before he died.”

“Listen, pal-”

Drew cut Randy off. “You killed her! You and all the others! You might as well have gotten a gun and shot her yourself. Maybe that would have been better. At least it would have been quicker, you bastard!”

“Jesus,” Randy said. “Look, I’ve done what you wanted. I told the people what you wanted me to say. I came out here so you could give me shit. So we’re good, right? You’re not going to kill me.”

“Yes,” Drew said. “I am.”

The mayor’s cheeks, so red earlier, were quickly draining of color. “Hey, come on. A deal’s a deal.”

“And not just you,” Drew said. He looked over at me. “You too, Jim.”

“No,” Ellen whispered.

“Come on, man,” said Derek.

I was just thinking about how I could reach up and grab the blade, but stopped when Drew turned his attention to me. “I know you don’t think I did enough where Sherry is concerned,” I said. “And I’m sorry about that. I really am. I’ll always regret it.”

“Not for a whole lot longer,” Drew said.

“What would you have done, Drew? Just tell me. Suppose the roles had been reversed. I’ve got a daughter, her life’s gone off the rails, and you happen to bump into her. She’s a total stranger to you. But you see she’s in trouble, she’s made some bad choices. So you give her your name and number, tell her if she wants help you’re available. And she doesn’t want that help. What would you do?”

Drew’s eyes appeared to sparkle for a moment, and then I realized they were moist, that he was trying to hold back tears.

“You were her only chance,” he whispered. “You were what I prayed for while I sat in prison. That someone would see the trouble she was in, and help her, until I got out and could do it myself. But it didn’t happen. And by the time I got out, it was too late.”

I glanced again at Ellen, her eyes wide with fear. Then at Derek, wide-eyed as well, but not with fear exactly. Like he was looking for an opening, an opportunity. If someone in the room could provide some momentary distraction, anything, just engage him in conversation for a second, Drew would look away, and maybe that would give me just enough time to grab the tractor blade, attack him with it, use it like a machete or something.

I might end up getting shot, but if I could manage to inflict a little damage, I might be able to save my wife and son.

It was Randy who stepped in. “I’ll tell you this much,” he said, and Drew looked his way. “You’re right to think you could have expected more of him, but me, come on, everybody knows what I’m like, so-”

Everything after that happened very fast.

I swiveled around, wrapped my hand around the heavy steel blade. I’d yet to sharpen it out in the shed. The edges were blunt and rounded. But at a foot and a half in length, it would still do a lot of damage if I could hit Drew with it.