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He drove slowly, savoring the taste of victory. He wondered whether he should head out for a celebratory beer but decided against it. It wasn't as if he could talk about what happened. Talking was what might have gotten him into trouble in the first place.
After turning onto his street, he cruised past a number of large, well-maintained homes, each sitting on half an acre. He lived at the end of the cul-de-sac; his neighbors were a doctor and lawyer. He hadn't done too badly, if he did say so himself.
It was only when he turned in the driveway that he noticed someone standing on the sidewalk in front of the house. When he slowed, he saw the dog poised beside him and he slammed on the brakes, blinking in disbelief. He jammed the car into park. Despite the rain, he stepped out of the car and headed directly for Thigh-bolt.
When Zeus snarled and began to creep forward, Clayton stopped short. Thigh-bolt raised a hand and the dog froze.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he shouted, making his voice heard over the rain.
"Waiting for you," Thigh-bolt replied. "I think it's time we had a talk."
"Why the hell would I want to talk to you?" he spat out.
"I think you know."
Clayton didn't like the sound of that, but he wasn't about to be intimidated by the guy. Not now. Not ever.
"What I know is that you're loitering. In this county, that's a crime."
"You won't arrest me."
Part of him considered doing just that. "Don't be so sure."
Thigh-bolt continued to stare at him as if daring him to prove it. Clayton wanted to wipe that expression off Thigh-bolt's face with his fist. But ever present Cujo was there.
"What do you want?"
"Like I said, it's time for us to talk." His tone was even and steady.
"I've got nothing to say to you," Clayton fumed. He shook his head. "I'm going inside. If you're still out here when I reach the porch, I'll have you arrested for threatening a deputy with a lethal weapon."
He turned and started up the walk, toward the door.
"You didn't find the disk," Thigh-bolt called out.
Clayton stopped and turned around. "What?"
"The disk," Thigh-bolt repeated. "That's what you were looking for when you broke into my house. When you went through my drawers, looked under the mattress, checked the cabinets."
"I didn't break into your house." He squinted at Thigh-bolt.
"Yes," he said, "you did. Last Monday, when I was at work."
"Prove it," he barked.
"I already have all the proof I need. The motion detector I had set up in the fireplace turned on the video recorder. It was hidden in the fireplace. I figured you might try to find the disk one day and you'd never think to look there."
Clayton felt his stomach lurch as he tried to figure out whether Thigh-bolt was bluffing. Maybe he was or maybe he wasn't; he couldn't tell.
"You're lying."
"Then walk away. I'll be happy to walk the videotape over to the newspaper and sheriff's department right now."
"What do you want?"
"I told you, I thought it was time we had a little talk."
"About what?"
"About what a dirt-bag you are." He let the words roll out lazily. "Taking dirty pictures of coeds? What would your grandfather think of that? I wonder what would happen if he somehow found out about it, or what the newspaper might say. Or what your dad--who I believe is the county sheriff--would think about his son breaking into my house."
Clayton felt his stomach give another nasty twist. There was no way the guy could know these things . . . but he did. "What do you want?" Despite his best effort, he knew his tone had risen a notch when he said it.
Thigh-bolt continued to stand before him, his gaze steady. Clayton swore the man never so much as blinked.
"I want you to be a better person," he said.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Three things. Let's start with this: Stay out of Elizabeth's business."
Clayton blinked. "Who's Elizabeth?"
"Your ex-wife."
"You mean Beth?"
"You've been running her dates off ever since you've been divorced. You know it and I know it. And now she knows it, too. It's not going to happen again. Ever. Are we clear?"
Clayton didn't respond.
"Number two--stay out of my business. That means my house, my job, my life. Got it?"
Clayton stayed silent.
"And number three. This is very important." He raised a palm outward, as if taking an imaginary oath. "If you take your anger at me out on Ben, you'll have to answer to me."
Clayton felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. "Is that a threat?"
"No," Thigh-bolt said, "it's the truth. Do those three things, and you'll have no trouble from me. No one will know what you've done."
Clayton clenched his jaw.
In the silence, Thigh-bolt moved toward him. Zeus stayed in place, his frustration evident at being forced to stay behind. Thigh-bolt stepped closer until they were face-to-face. His voice remained as calm as it had been all along.
"Know this: You've never met someone like me before. You don't want me as an enemy."
With that, Thigh-bolt turned away and started down the sidewalk. Zeus continued to stare at Clayton until he heard the command to come. Then he trotted toward Thigh-bolt, leaving Clayton standing in the rain, wondering how everything that had been so perfect could have suddenly gone so wrong.
22
Thibault
I think I want to be an astronaut," Ben said.
Thibault was playing chess with him on the back porch and trying to figure out his next move. He had yet to win a game, and though he wasn't absolutely sure, the fact that Ben had started talking struck him as a bad sign. They'd been playing a lot of chess lately; there hadn't been a day without steady, heavy rain since October began nine days earlier. Already, the eastern part of the state was flooding, with additional rivers rising daily.
"Sounds good."
"Either that or a fireman."
Thibault nodded. "I've known a couple of firemen."
"Or a doctor."
"Hmm," Thibault said. He began reaching for his bishop.
"I wouldn't do that," Ben said.
Thibault looked up.
"I know what you're thinking you should do," Ben added. "It won't work."
"What should I do?"
"Not that."
Thibault drew his hand back. It was one thing to lose, it was another thing to lose continually. Worse, he didn't seem to be closing the gap. If anything, Ben was getting better faster than he was. The previous game had lasted all of twenty-one moves.
"Would you like to see my tree house?" Ben said. "It's really cool. It's got the big platform that hangs out over the creek, and this shaky bridge."
"I'd love to see it."
"Not now. Some other time, I mean."
"Sounds great," Thibault said. He reached for his rook.
"I wouldn't move that one either."
Thibault arched his brow as Ben leaned back.
"I'm just telling you," he added.
"What should I do?"
He shrugged, looking and sounding like the ten-year-old he was. "Whatever you want."
"Except move the bishop and the rook?"
Ben pointed to another piece. "And your other bishop. Knowing you, that's what you'll try next, since you're trying to set up your knight. But it won't work either, since I'll sacrifice the bishop for mine, and move my queen in to take the pawn over there. That freezes your queen, and after I castle my king, I'll move my knight there. Two moves after that, I'll have you in checkmate."
