Twisted: The Collected Short Stories of Jeffery Deaver

From the rueful look on his face I could guess. 'You underestimated the enemy.'

Manko shook his head. 'Thomas Morgan,' he mused. 'I think he must've been a godfather or something.'

'I suppose they have them in Ohio too.'

'He had friends everywhere. Virginia troopers, Carolina, everywhere! Money is power, we were saying. We were heading south on Route Twenty-one, making for Charlotte, when I ran into 'em. I went into a 7-Eleven to buy some food and beer and what happens but there're some good ole boys right there, Smoky hats and everything, asking the clerk about a couple on the run from Ohio. I mean, us! I managed to get out without them seeing us and we peeled rubber outta there, I'll tell you. We drove for a while but by then it was almost dawn and I figured we better lay low for the day.

'I pulled into a big forest preserve. We spent the whole day together, lying there, my arms around her, her head on my chest. We just lay in the grass beside the car and I told her stories about places we'd travel to. The Philippines, Thailand, California. And I told her what life'd be like in Florida too.'

He looked at me with a grave expression on his taut face. 'I could've had her, Frank. You know what I'm saying? Right there. On the grass. The insects buzzing around us. You could hear this river, a waterfall, nearby.' Manko's voice fell to a murmur. 'But it wouldn't've been right. I wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted us to be in our own place, in Florida, in our bedroom, married. That sounds old-fashioned, I know. You think that was stupid of me? You don't think so, do you?'

'No, Manko, it's not stupid at all.' Awkwardly I looked for something to add. 'It was good of you.'

He looked forlorn for a minute, perhaps regretting, stupid or wise, his choosing to keep their relationship chaste.

'Then,' he said, smiling devilishly, 'things got hairy. At midnight we headed south again. This car passed us then hit the brakes and did a U-ie. Came right after us. Morgan's men. I turned off the highway and headed east over back roads. Man, what a drive! One-lane bridges, dirt roads. Zipping through small towns. Whoa, Frankie boy, I had four wheels treading air! It was fan-tastic. You should've seen it. There must've been twenty cars after us. I managed to lose 'em but I knew we couldn't get very far, the two of us. I figured we better split up.

'I knew that part of the state pretty good. Had a couple buddies in the service from Winston-Salem. We'd go hunting and stayed in this old, abandoned lodge near China Grove. Took some doing but I finally found the place.

'I pulled up and made sure it was empty. We sat in the car and I put my arm around her. I pulled her close and told her what I decided — that she should stay here. If her father got his hands on her, it'd be all over. He'd send her away for sure. Maybe even brainwash her. Don't laugh. Morgan'd do it. Even his own flesh and blood. She'd hide out here and I'd lead 'em off for a ways. Then…'

'Yes?'

'I'd wait for him.'

'For Morgan? What were you going to do?'

'Have it out with him once and for all. One-on-one, him and me. Oh, I don't mean kill him. Just show him he wasn't king of the universe. Allison begged me not to. She knew how dangerous he was. But I didn't care. I knew he'd never leave us alone. He was the devil. He'd follow us forever if I didn't stop him. She begged me to take her with me but I knew I couldn't. She had to stay. It was so clear to me. See, Frank, that's what love is, I think. Not being afraid to make a decision for someone else.'

Manko, the rough-hewn philosopher.

'I held her tight and told her not to worry. I told her how there wasn't enough room in my heart for all the love I felt for her. We'd be together again soon.'

'Was it safe there, you think?'

'The cabin? Sure. Morgan'd never find it.'

'It was in China Grove?'

'Half hour away. On Badin Lake.'

I laughed. 'You're kidding me?'

'You know it?'

'Sure I do. I used to go skinny-dipping there eons ago.' I nodded that it was a good choice. 'Hard to spot those cabins on the western shore.'

'It's a damn pretty place too. You know, I was driving off and I looked back and I remember thinking how nice it'd be if that was our house and there Allison'd be in the doorway waiting for me to come home from work.'

Manko rose and walked to the window. He gazed through his reflection into the wet night.

'After I left I drove to a state road. I pulled right in front of them and made like I was heading back to her, but really leading the hounds off, you know. But they caught me… man, everybody. Cops, the security boys… and Morgan himself.

'He stormed up to me, all pissed off, red in the face. He threatened me. And then he begged me to tell him where she was hiding. But I just looked back at him. I didn't say a word. And all his bucks, all his thugs… nothing. Money's power, sure, but so is love. I didn't even have to fight him. He looked me in the eyes and he knew that I'd won. His daughter loved me, not him. Allison was safe. We'd be together, the two of us. We'd beat Thomas Morgan — tycoon, rich son of a bitch, and father of the most beautiful woman on earth. He just turned around and walked back to his limo. End of story.'

Silence fell between us. It was nearly midnight and I'd been here for over three hours. I stretched. Manko paced slowly, his face aglow with anticipation. 'You know, Frank, a lot of my life hasn't gone the way I wanted it to. Allison's either. But one thing we've got is our love. That makes everything okay.'

'A transcendent love.'

A ping sounded and I realized that Manko'd touched his cup to mine once again. We emptied them. He looked out the window into the black night. The rain had stopped and a faint moon was evident through the clouds. A distant clock started striking twelve. He smiled. 'Time to go meet her, Frank.'

A solid rap struck the door, which swung open suddenly. I was startled and stood.

Manko turned calmly, the smile still on his face.

'Evening, Tim,' said a man of about sixty. He wore a rumpled brown suit. From behind him several sets of eyes peered at Manko and me.

It rankled me slightly to hear the given name. Manko'd always made it clear that he preferred his nickname and considered the use of Tim or Timothy an insult. But tonight he didn't even notice; he smiled. There was silence for a moment as another man, wearing a pale blue uniform, stepped into the room with a tray, loaded it up with the dirty dishes.

'Enjoy it, Manko?' he asked, nodding at the tray.

'Ambrosia,' he said, lifting a wry eyebrow toward me.

The older man nodded then took a blue-backed document from his suit jacket and opened it. There was a long pause. Then in a solemn Southern baritone he read, 'Timothy Albert Mankowitz, in accordance with the sentence pronounced against you pursuant to your conviction for the kidnapping and murder of Allison Kimberly Morgan, I hereby serve upon you this death warrant issued by the governor of the State of North Carolina, to be effected at midnight this day.'

The warden handed Manko the paper. He and his lawyer had already seen the faxed version from the court and tonight he merely glanced with boredom at the document. In his face I noted none of the stark befuddlement you almost always see in the faces of condemned prisoners as they read the last correspondence they'll ever receive.

'We got the line open to the governor, Tim,' the warden drawled, 'and he's at his desk. I just talked to him. But I don't think… I mean, he probably won't intervene.'

'I told you all along.' Manko said softly, 'I didn't even want those appeals.'

The execution operations officer, a thin, businesslike man who looked like a feed-and-grain clerk, cuffed Manko's wrists and removed his shoes.

The warden motioned me outside and I stepped into the corridor. Unlike the popular conception of a dismal, Gothic death row, this wing of the prison resembled an overly lit Sunday school hallway. His head leaned close. 'Any luck, Father?'

I lifted my eyes from the shiny linoleum. 'I think so. He told me about a cabin on Badin Lake. Western shore.