Twisted: The Collected Short Stories of Jeffery Deaver

mother's chair (and, yep, the whole town had an opinion about that too). Unnatural. Yep, that was the word.

So the Caldon Sheriff's Department deputies — Ed and Boz at least — never missed a chance to do their part to, well, set Nate straight. Just like they'd done in high school. They'd see him buying groceries and they'd smile and say, 'Need a hand?' Meaning: Why don'tcha get married, homo?

Or he'd be bicycling up Rayburn Hill and they'd come up behind him in their cruiser and hit the siren and shout over the loudspeaker, 'On your left!' Which'd once scared him clean into some blackberry bushes.

But he never took the hints. He just kept doing what he was doing, wearing a dark trench coat most of the time, living his shameful life and walking out of Ed's and Boz's way when he ran into them on Main Street. Just like in the halls of Hawthorne High.

So it felt pretty good, Ed had to admit, having him trapped in the interview room. Scared and twitchy and damp in the summer heat.

'He had to've walked right by you,' Boz continued in his grumbling voice. 'You must've seen him.'

'Uhm. I didn't.'

Him was Lester Botts, presently sitting unshaven and stinking in the nearby lockup. The scruffy thirty-five-year-old loser had been a sore spot to the Caldon Sheriff's Department for years. He'd never been convicted of anything but the deputies knew he was behind a lot of the petty crimes around the country. He was white trash, gave the nasty eyeball to the good girls in town and wasn't even a lip-service Christian.

Lester was currently the number-one suspect in this evening's robbery. He had no alibi for five to six p.m. — the time of the heist. And though the armored car's driver and his partner hadn't seen his face, what with the ski mask, the robber'd carried a nickel-plated Colt revolver — exactly the type of gun that Lester had drunkenly brandished at Irv's Roadside not long ago. And there'd been a report last week that somebody with Lester's build had stolen a half pound of Tovex from Amundson Construction. Which was the same explosive used to blow the door off the Armored Courier truck. At six-thirty tonight they'd picked him up — he was sweating a storm and acting plenty guilty — hitching home along Route 334, even though he had a perfectly good Chevy pickup at home, which fired up the first time Ed turned the key, just to test out if Lester's claim that it 'wasn't runnin' ' was true. He'd also been carrying a long hunting knife and fumbled the answer when they'd asked him why ('Well, I just, you know, am.')

The sheriff's department Procedure Manual had explained all about motive, means and opportunity in investigating felonies. Boz and Ed had scoped all that out in this case. It was sweet and simple. No, there was no doubt in their minds that Lester had done the job. And because Nate's property was on a direct line from the heist to where they picked up Lester, there was also no doubt that Nate could place him near the scene of the crime.

Boz sighed. 'Just tell us you saw him.'

'But I didn't. That wouldn't be the truth.'

Nerd then, nerd now. Christ…

'Look, Nate,' Boz continued, as if speaking to a five-year-old. 'Maybe you don't get how serious this is. Lester whacked the driver of that armored car over the head with a wrench while he was peeing in the men's room at the Texaco on Route Four. Then he went out to the truck, shot the driver's partner in the side —'

'Oh, no. Is he okay?'

'Nobody's okay, they get shot in the side,' Boz spat out. 'Lemme finish.'

'Sorry.'

'Then drives the truck to Morton Woods Road, blows the back door off. He loads the money into another car and takes off, heading west — directly toward your place. We pick Lester up on the other side of your property a hour ago. He had to go past your house to get to where we found him. What d'you think about that?'

'I think it… Well, it seems like it makes sense. But I didn't see him. I'm sorry.'

Boz reflected for a minute. 'Nate, look,' he finally said, 'we just don't see eye to eye here.'

'Eye to eye?' Nate asked uncertainly.

'You're in a different world from us,' the deputy continued, exasperated. 'We know the kinda man Lester is. We live in that sewer every day.'

'Sewer?'

'You're thinking you'll just clam up and everything'll be okay,' Ed filled in. 'But that's not how it'll work. We know Lester. We know what he's capable of.'

'What's that?' Nate asked. Trying to sound brave. But his hands were clenched, trembling, in his lap.

'Using his damn knife on you, what d'you think?' Boz shouted. 'Jesus. You really don't get it, do you?'

They were doing the good- and bad-cop thing. The Procedure Manual had a whole section on it.

'Say you don't finger him now,' Ed offered gently. 'He gets off. How long you think it'll take for him to find you?'

' 'Cause he thinks I'm a witness, you mean?'

'Find you and gut you,' Boz snapped. 'Why, it'll be no time at all. And I'm beginning not to care.'

'Come on,' Ed said to his partner. 'Let's go easy on the poor kid.' Then looked at Nate's frightened face. 'But if we get him for armed robbery and attempted murder… He'll go away for thirty years. You'll be safe.'

'I want to do the right thing,' Nate said. 'But…' His voice trailed off.

'Boz, he wants to help. I know he does.'

'I do,' Nate said earnestly. And scrunched his eyes closed, thinking hard. 'But I can't lie. I can't. My dad… You remember my dad. He taught me never to lie.'

His dad was a nobody who couldn't swim worth shit. That's all they knew about his dad. Boz plucked his shirt away from his fat chest and examined the black patches of sweat under his arms. He walked in a slow circle around the boy, sighing.

Nate cringed faintly, as if he were afraid of losing his gym shoes again.

Finally Ed said in an easy voice, 'Nate, you know we've had our disputes.'

'Well, you guys used to pick on me a lot in school.'

'Hell, that? That was just joshing,' Ed said earnestly. 'We only did it with the kids we liked.'

'Yeah?' Nate asked.

'But sometimes,' Ed continued, 'I guess it got a little out of hand. You know how it is? You're fooling around, you get pumped up.'

Neither of them thought this little salamander had ever been pumped up (for Christ's sake, a man does at least one sport).

'Look, Nate, will you let bygones be bygones?' Ed held out his hand. 'I'll apologize for all of that stuff we done.'

Nate stared at Ed's meaty hand.

Burning bushes, Ed thought, he's gonna cry. He glanced at Boz, who said, 'I'll second that, Nate.' The Procedure Manual said that after the subject has been worn down, the bad cop comes around and starts to act like a good cop. 'I'm sorry for what we done.'

Ed said, 'Come on, Nate. What d'you say? Let's put our differences behind us.'

Nate's spooky face looked from one deputy to the other. He took Ed's hand, shook it cautiously. Ed wanted to wipe it after they released the grip. But he just smiled and said, 'Now, man to man, what can you tell us?'

'Okay. I did see someone. But I couldn't swear it was Lester.'

Ed and Boz exchanged cool glances.

Nate continued fast. 'Wait. Let me tell you what I saw.'

Boz — who of the two had worse handwriting but could spell better — opened a notebook and began to write.

'I was sitting on my porch reading.'

Porn, probably.

'And listening to music.'

'I love you, Satan. Take me, take me, take me…'