Clayton
Clayton sat behind the wheel of the car, feeling pretty damn pleased with himself.
He’d had to do some quick thinking, but it went far better than he’d thought it would, especially considering the way the conversation had begun. Someone had ratted him out, and as he drove, he tried to figure out who it might have been. Generally, there was no such thing as a secret in small towns, but this one was as close as you could get. The only ones who knew were the few men he’d had the little talk with and, of course, himself.
He figured it could have been one of them, but somehow he doubted it. They were worms, each and every one of them, and each and every one of them had moved on. There was no reason for them to have said anything. Even Adam the dork had found a new girlfriend, which made it unlikely he’d start talking now either.
Then again, it might simply have been a rumor. It was possible that someone had suspicions about what he’d been up to, just by connecting the dots. Beautiful woman getting dumped over and over for no apparent reason . . . and, thinking back, he might have mentioned something to Moore or even Tony about Beth that someone might have overheard—but he’d never been dumb or drunk enough to be specific. He knew the problems that could cause with his dad, especially since usually he’d had to rely on law enforcement threats. But someone had said something to Beth.
He didn’t put much stock in the fact that Beth had said a female friend had told her. She could easily have changed that little detail to throw him off. It could have been a man or a woman; what he was more certain about was the fact that she’d learned the detail recently. Knowing her as he did, he knew there wasn’t a chance she could have kept something like that bottled up for long.
That’s where things got confusing. He’d picked up Ben on Saturday morning; she’d said nothing then. By her own admission, she’d been at the beach on Saturday with Thigh-bolt. On Sunday, he’d seen her in church, but she was home by late afternoon.
So who had told her? And when?
It could have been Nana, he thought. The woman had always been a thorn in his side. Gramps’s, too. For the last four or five years, he’d been trying to get Nana to sell the land so he could develop it. Not only did it have a beautiful riverfront, but the creeks were valuable, too. People who moved down from the North loved waterfront property. Gramps generally took her rejections in stride; for whatever reason, he liked Nana. Probably because they went to the same church, something that didn’t seem to matter when it came to Nana’s opinion of her former son-in-law, who went to the same church as well.
Still, this seemed like the kind of trouble Thigh-bolt would start. But how on earth would he know? They’d seen each other only twice, and there wasn’t a chance that Thigh-bolt could have deduced the truth from those two meetings. But what about the break-in? Clayton thought about it before rejecting his idea. He’d been in and out in twenty minutes, and he hadn’t even had to jimmy the lock, since the guy hadn’t bothered to lock the front door. And nothing had been missing, so why would Thigh-bolt even have suspected someone had been inside in the first place? And even if he’d guessed that someone had been in the house, why would he draw the connection to Clayton?
He couldn’t answer those questions to his satisfaction, but the theory that Thigh-bolt had had something to do with this little wrinkle seemed to fit. He’d had nothing but problems since Thigh-bolt had arrived. So he figured Thigh-bolt was high on his list of folks who probably should have minded their own business. Which gave him one more reason to finally fix the guy.
He wasn’t going to get too caught up with that now, though. He was still feeling pretty good about how he’d salvaged the conversation with Beth. It could have been a fiasco. The last thing on earth he’d expected when she’d called him over was for her to ask him about his involvement in her previous relationships. But he’d handled it well. Not only was he able to muster a plausible denial, but he’d also made her think twice about Thigh-bolt. He could tell by her expression that he’d brought up a number of issues she hadn’t considered about Thigh-bolt . . . and best of all, he’d convinced her that it was all in Ben’s best interest. Who knows? Maybe she’d end up dumping him, and Thigh-bolt would leave town. Wouldn’t that be something? Yet another of Beth’s relationship problems would be solved, and Thigh-bolt would be out of the picture.
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.