Twisted: The Collected Short Stories of Jeffery Deaver

Dalton looked under the tree. 'Is my present there?' He browsed through the packages, seeming disappointed that there was none with his name on it.

She recalled this too: One minute he'd be fine. The next, completely out of touch with reality. He'd been hospitalized three times when they were married. Susan remembered telling Carly that her father had to go to Asia on monthlong business trips.

'Nothing for poor me,' he said, standing back from the tree.

Susan's jaw trembled. 'I'm sorry. If I'd known —'

'It's a joke, Susan,' he said. 'Why would you get me anything? You didn't love me when we were married; you don't love me now. The important thing is that I got you something. After the scare about what'd happened to you this afternoon I went shopping. I wanted to find just the right present.'

Dalton drank down more wine and refilled his glass. He eyed her carefully. 'Probably better if you stay snuggled in right where you are. I'll open it for you.'

Her eyes glanced at the box. It had been carelessly wrapped — by him, of course — and he ripped the paper off roughly. He lifted out something cylindrical, made of metal.

'It's a camping heater. Carly said you'd taken that up. Hiking, out-of-doors… Interesting that you never liked to do anything fun when we were married.'

'I never liked to do anything with you,' she said angrily. 'You'd beat me up if I said the wrong thing or didn't do what you'd told me.'

Ignoring her words, he handed her the heater. Then he took out something else. A red can. On the side: Kerosene. 'Of course,' Anthony continued, frowning, 'that's one bad thing about Christmas… lot of accidents this time of year. You read that article in USA Today? Fires, particularly. Lot of people die in fires.'

He glanced at the warning label and took a cigarette lighter from his pocket.

'Oh, God, no!… Please. Anthony.'

It was then that Susan heard a car's brakes squeal outside. The police? Or was it Rich?

Or was it her imagination?

Anthony was busying himself taking the lid off the kerosene.

Yes, there were definitely footsteps on the walk. Susan prayed it wasn't Carly.

Then the doorbell rang. Anthony looked toward the front door, startled.

And as he did, Susan flung the champagne glass into his face with all her strength and leapt to her feet, sprinting for the door. She glanced behind her to see Anthony stumbling backward. The glass had broken and cut his chin. 'Goddamn bitch!' he roared, starting for her.

But she had a good head start and flung the door open.

Rich Musgrave stood there, eyes wide in shock. 'What?'

'It's my ex!' she gasped. 'He's trying to kill me!'

'Jesus,' Rich said. He put his arm around her. 'Don't worry, Susan.'

'We have to get away! Call the police.'

She took his hand and started to flee into the front yard.

But Rich didn't move. What the hell was he doing? Did he want to fight? This was no time for any chivalry crap. 'Please, Rich. We have to run!'

Then she felt his hand tighten on hers. The grip became excruciating. His other hand took her by the waist and he turned her around. He shoved her back inside. 'Yo, Anthony,' Rich called, laughing. 'Lose something?'

* * *

In despair, Susan sat on the couch and sobbed.

They'd tied her hands and feet with Christmas ribbon, which would burn away, leaving no evidence that she'd been bound after the fire, Rich had explained, sounding like a carpenter imparting a construction tip to a homeowner.

It had all been planned for months, her ex-husband was smugly pleased to tell her. As soon as he'd learned that Susan's father had died, he started making plans to get even with her — for her 'disobedience' when they were married and then for divorcing him. So he'd hired Rich Musgrave to work his way into her life and wait for an opportunity to kill her.

Rich had picked her up at a shopping mall a few weeks ago and they'd hit it off at once. They'd had a lot in common, it seemed — though Susan realized now that he'd merely been fed information about her from Anthony to make it seem like they were soul mates. Planning the killing itself was tough; Susan led a very busy life and she was rarely alone. But Rich learned that she was taking today off. He suggested they meet in Jersey and go to the malls. Then he'd suggest driving to an inn for lunch. But they'd never make it that far. He'd kill her and dump her body in the flats.

But she'd called Rich this morning, asking him if he'd drive; she'd fallen and hurt her knee. He'd be happy to… Then he'd called Anthony and they'd decided that they could still go ahead with the plan. This worked out even better, in fact, because it turned out that Susan had left the note and shopping list for her daughter on the entryway table after all. When he picked her up that morning he'd pocketed the note and list and slipped them into her purse — to be buried with her — so there'd be no trace of him. Rich had also made sure her cell phone was off so she couldn't call for help if she saw what he was up to.

Then they'd run a few errands and headed toward Jersey.

But it hadn't worked out as planned. Carly had gone to the police and, to Anthony's shock, they'd tracked down Rich's car. Her ex had called Rich from Lincoln Rhyme's apartment, pretending to be talking to a business associate about missing an office party; in fact, he was alerting Rich that the police were after him. Susan remembered him taking a call in the car and seeming uneasy with whatever news he was receiving. 'What? You're shitting me!' (Rough edges, yep, she'd thought at the time.) Ten minutes later that red-haired cop, Amelia, and the state trooper had pulled them over.

After that incident Rich had been reluctant to proceed with the murder. But Anthony had coldly insisted they go ahead. Rich finally agreed when Anthony said they'd make the death look like an accident — and when he promised that after Susan died and Carly'd inherited a couple of million dollars, Anthony would make certain Rich got some of that.

'You son of a bitch! You leave her alone!'

Anthony ignored his ex-wife. He was amused. 'So she just called you now?'

'Yeah,' Rich said. 'Hit 'redial,' I guess. Pretty fucking smart.'

'Damn,' Anthony said, shaking his head.

'Good thing I was the last person she called. Not Pizza Hut.'

Anthony said to Susan, 'Nice thought. But Rich was coming back anyway. He was parked up the street, waiting for Carly to leave.'

'Please… don't do this.'

Anthony poured the kerosene on the couch.

'No, no, no…'

He stood back and watched her, enjoying her terror.

But through her tears of panic Susan saw that Rich Musgrave was frowning. He shook his head. 'Can't do it, man,' he said to Anthony as he stared at Susan's tearful face.

Anthony looked up, frowning. Was his friend having pangs of guilt?

Help me, please, she begged Rich silently.

'Whatta you mean?' Anthony asked.

'You can't burn somebody to death. That's way harsh… We have to kill her first.'

Susan gasped.

'But the police'll know it's not an accident.'

'No, no, I'll just —' He held his hand to his own throat. 'You know. After the fire they won't have a clue she was strangled.'

Anthony shrugged. 'Okay.' He nodded to Rich, who stepped up behind her, as Anthony poured the rest of the liquid around Susan.

'Oh, no, Anthony, don't! Please… God, no…'

Her words were choked off as she felt Rich's huge hands close around her neck, felt them tightening.