The Lucky One(54)

“Okay,” she said, still struggling with her words. A muscle clenched and unclenched in her jaw. She waved Clayton off. “Whatever. Just go. I’ll take it from here.”

With her arm around Ben, she started to lead him away, and it was in that instant that Clayton spotted Thibault sitting on the porch, staring directly at him. Clayton’s eyes widened before they flashed in anger. He started for the porch.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

Thibault simply stared at him without moving. Zeus’s growls grew more ominous.

“What’s he doing here, Beth?”

“Just go, Keith. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” She turned away.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he spat, reaching for her arm. “I’m just asking you a question.”

At that moment, Zeus snarled and his rear legs began to quiver. For the first time, Clayton seemed to notice the dog, his teeth bared, the fur on his back standing straight up.

“If I were you, I’d let go of her arm,” Thibault said. His voice was flat and calm, more a suggestion than an order. “Right now.”

Clayton, eyeing the dog, let go immediately. As Elizabeth and Ben hurried to the porch, Clayton glared at Thibault. Zeus took a single step forward, continuing to snarl.

“I think you’d better go,” Thibault said, his voice quiet.

Clayton debated for an instant, then took a step backward and turned away. Thibault heard him cursing under his breath as he stalked back to the car, opened the door, and slammed it shut behind him.

Thibault reached out to pet Zeus. “Good boy,” he whispered.

Clayton backed out of his spot, made a sloppy three-point turn, and took off up the drive, spewing gravel. His taillights receded from view, and only then did the fur on Zeus’s back finally lower. His tail wagged as Ben approached.

“Hi, Zeus,” Ben said.

Zeus glanced at Thibault for permission. “It’s okay,” Thibault said, releasing him. Zeus pranced toward Ben as if to say, I’m so happy you’re home! He nosed at Ben, who started to pet him.

“You missed me, huh?” Ben said, sounding pleased. “I missed you, too. . . .”

“Come on, sweetie,” Elizabeth urged, moving him forward again. “Let’s go inside and put some ice on your eye. And I want to see it in the light.”

As they opened the screen door, Thibault stood.

“Hey, Thibault,” Ben said, waving.

“Hi, Ben.”

“Can I play with Zeus tomorrow?”

“If it’s okay with your mom, it’s okay with me.” Thibault could tell by looking at Elizabeth that she wanted to be alone with her son. “I should probably go,” he said, rising from his spot. “It’s getting late, and I’ve got an early morning.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate it. And sorry for all this.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

He walked a ways down the drive, then turned toward the house. He could just make out movement behind the curtains of the living room window.

Staring at the shadows of the two figures in the window, he felt for the first time that he was finally beginning to understand the reason he’d come.





14

Clayton

Of all the places in all the world, he had to find the guy at Beth’s place. What were the odds on that? Pretty damn small, that’s for sure.

He hated that guy. No, scratch that. He wanted to destroy the guy. Not only because of the whole stealing-the-camera-and-flattening-his-tires thing, though that was definitely worthy of a little time locked in the jail alongside a couple of violent methamphetamine addicts. And it wasn’t because Thigh-bolt had him over a barrel with the camera disk. It was because the guy, the same guy who’d played him once, had made him look like a quivering jellyfish in front of Beth.

If I were you, I’d let go of her arm had been bad enough. But after that? Oh, that’s where the guy went seriously wrong. Right now. . . . I think you’d better go. . . . All spoken in that serious, steady, don’t-piss-me-off tone of voice that Clayton himself used on criminals. And he’d actually done it, slinking away like some stray dog with his tail between his legs, which made the whole thing worse.

Normally, he wouldn’t have put up with that for a second, even with Beth and Ben around. No one gave him orders and got away with it, and he would have made it perfectly clear that the guy had just made the biggest mistake of his life. But he couldn’t! That was the thing. He couldn’t. Not with Cujo around, eyeballing his crotch like it was an appetizer at the Sunday buffet. In the dark, the thing actually looked like a rabid wolf, and all he could do was remember the stories Kenny Moore told him about Panther.

What the hell was he doing with Beth, anyway? How did that come about? It was like some sort of evil cosmic plan to ruin what had been for the most part a pretty crappy day—starting with mopey, moody Ben showing up at noon and complaining straight off about having to take out the garbage.

He was a patient guy, but he was tired of the kid’s attitude. Real tired of it, which was why he hadn’t let Ben stop at just the garbage. He’d had the kid clean the kitchen and the bathrooms, too, thinking it would show him how the real world worked, where having a halfway decent attitude actually mattered. Power of positive thinking and all that. And besides, everyone knew that while mamas did the spoiling, dads were supposed to teach kids that nothing in life was free, right? And the kid did real well with the cleaning, like he always did, so for Clayton the whole thing was over and done with. It was time for a break, so he took Ben outside to play catch. What kid wouldn’t want to play catch with his dad on a beautiful Saturday afternoon?