Terry Brooks - Running With The Demon

He reached up and loosened his tie. What could he do, after all, that would make a difference? Was there anyone who could tell him? He had spoken with Ralph Emery, but the minister had told him that Evelyn had to want to be helped before anyone could reach her. He had come out to the house to talk with her once or twice, but Evelyn had shown no interest in reaching out. Nest was the only one she cared about, and he thought sometimes that maybe Nest made a small difference in Evelyn just by being there. But Nest was still a child, and there was only so much a child could do.

Besides, he thought uneasily, Nest was too much like her grandmother for comfort.

He pulled off his tie, draped it over the easy chair with his coat, and walked to the phone to call Mel Riorden. He dialed, and the phone rang only once before Mel picked up.

"Riorden."

"Mel? It's Bob Freemark."

"Yeah, thanks for calling back. I appreciate it."

Old Bob smiled to himself. "What were you doing, standing by the phone waiting for me?"

"Something like that. This isn't funny. I've got a problem." Mel Riorden's tone of voice made that abundantly apparent, but Old Bob said nothing, waiting Mel out. "You have to keep this to yourself, Bob, if I tell you. You have to promise me that. I wouldn't involve you if I didn't have to, but I can't let this thing slide and I don't know how to deal with it. I've already tried and been told to go to hell."

Old Bob pulled back the desk chair and seated himself. "Well, this doesn't have to go beyond you and me if you don't want it to, Mel. Why don't you just tell me what it is?"

Mel Riorden gave a worried sigh. "It's Deny. The kid's more trouble than a dozen alligators in the laundry chute and stupid to boot. If he wasn't my sister's kid …" He trailed off. "Well, you've heard it all before. Anyway, I'm in church for the early mass with Carol and a couple of the grandkids. Al Garcia's there, too. With Angie and their kids. So afterward, I go in for a coffee and a cookie like everyone else. I say hello to Al and Angie, to a couple of others. Everyone's having a nice visit. I'm standing there, munching my cookie, sipping my coffee, Carol's off with the grandkids, all's right with the world, and up comes my sister. She looks really bad, worried as can be, all bent out of shape. First off, I think she's been drinking. But then I see it's something else. She says to me, 'Mel, you got to talk to him. You got to find out what's going on and put a stop to it.' "

"Put a stop to. what?"

"I'm coming to that." Mel Riorden paused, arranging his thoughts in the silence. "See, I keep thinking of those newspaper stories we joke about over coffee at Josie's. The ones about the people who suddenly go berserk. Their minds snap and they go crazy, insane, for no real reason. You wonder how it could happen, how the people who know them could let it. It's like that. Like that schoolteacher walking in and killing all those kindergarten kids in Mississippi because he'd lost his job. You read about that in today's paper?"

Old Bob shook his head at the phone. "I haven't read the paper yet. I just got back from church myself."

"Yeah, well, that's one good reason for being Catholic. You get church out of the way early and have the rest of the day to yourself. Al and I talked it over once, the advantages of being Catholic over being Protestant…"

"Mel." Old Bob stopped him midsentence. "What about Deny? Are you saying he's planning to kill someone?"

"No, not exactly." Mel Riorden paused. "Hold on a minute, will you? I want to make sure Carol's not back from the store yet." He put down the phone and was gone for a minute before picking it up again. "I don't want her to hear any of this. I don't want anyone to hear."

"You want to meet me someplace private and talk about this?" Old Bob asked him.

"No, I want to get it out of the way right now. Besides, I don't know how much time we've got if we're going to do anything."

"Do anything? What are we going to do, Mel?"

"Bear with me." Mel Riorden cleared his throat. "My sister tells me, when I get her calmed down a bit and off to the side, that someone called her, some friend, and said they'd heard that Deny was out at Scrubby's last night drinking with Junior Elway and talking about some plan to shut down MidCon. The conversation wasn't all that clear, but there was some mention of an accident, maybe someone getting killed."

Old Bob shook his head slowly. "Maybe they heard it wrong."

"Well, with anyone else, you might shrug it off to talk and booze. But Derry's been short–circuited since Vietnam, and he knows a lot about weapons and explosives. My sister begs me to talk to him. I don't want to do that, because I know Deny thinks I'm an old fart, but I tell her I'll give it a try. So when I get home, I give him a call. He's sleeping, and I wake him. He's not pleased. I decide it's best to get right to the point. I tell him about the conversation with my sister and ask him if

there's anything to it. He tells me, hell, yes, there's a lot to it, but it's got nothing to do with me. I tell him he'd better think twice about whatever it is. First off, people already know that if something happens, it's because of him; he made sure of that at the tavern. Second, anything he does outside the union will just get him in trouble with us. He says he doesn't care who knows and that the only way anything will ever get done is outside the union."

"What do you think he's got in mind?" Old Bob pressed.

"I don't know. He wouldn't tell me. But he might tell you. He's still got some respect for you, which is something he doesn't have for me. And I think maybe he's a little afraid of you. Not physically, but… you know, of your reputation. If you were to ask him what he's planning, he might open up." There was a long pause. "Bob, I don't know who else to turn to."

Old Bob nodded, thinking it over. Deny Howe was full of himself and his wild ideas, but he was mostly talk. The danger came from his army training and his inability to adjust to any kind of normal life since his return from Vietnam. Mel was right about that; you couldn't just dismiss his talk out of hand.

"Bob, are you still there?"

"I'm here," he answered. He didn't want any part of this. He wasn't sure at all that Deny Howe thought anything about him one way or the other. He wasn't sure at all that Derry would give him the time of day. Mel had more faith in him than he had in himself. Besides, he had problems of his own that needed his attention, and the biggest was sitting just down the hall in the kitchen. This whole business with Derry sounded like trouble he didn't need. "I don't know, Mel," he said.

"You and Evelyn going to the park today? For a picnic and the dance? Didn't you say you were?"

"We're going."

"Well, Derry will be there, too. He's going to enter the horseshoe tournament with Junior and some others. All I'm asking is that you take five minutes of your time and talk with him. Just ask him what's up, that's all. If he won't tell you, fine. But maybe he will. Maybe, if it's you."

Old Bob shook his head. He didn't want to get involved in this. He closed his eyes and rubbed them with his free hand. "All right, Mel," he said finally. "I'll give it a try."

There was an audible sigh of relief. "Thanks, Bob. I'll see you there. Thanks."

Old Bob placed the receiver gently back on the cradle. After a moment, he stood up and went over to open the door again.

"Nest, I want you to listen to me," Gran said quietly.

They were seated at the kitchen table, facing each other in the hazy sunlight, eyes locked. Gran's hands were shaking, and she put one on top of the other to keep them still. Nest saw disappointment and anger and sadness in her eyes all at the same time, and she was suddenly afraid.