Twisted

the robber’d carried a nickel-plated Colt revolver—exactly the type of gun that Lester had drunkenly brandished at Irv’s Roadside not long ago. And there’d been a report last week that somebody with Lester’s build had stolen a half pound of Tovex from Amundson Construction. Which was the same explosive used to blow the door off the Armored Courier truck. At six-thirty tonight they’d picked him up—he was sweating a storm and acting plenty guilty—hitching home along Route 334, even though he had a perfectly good Chevy pickup at home, which fired up the first time Ed turned the key, just to test out if Lester’s claim that it “wasn’t runnin’ ” was true. He’d also been carrying a long hunting knife and fumbled the answer when they’d asked him why (“Well, I just, you know, am. ”).
    The sheriff’s department Procedure Manual had explained all about motive, means and opportunity in investigating felonies. Boz and Ed had scoped all that out in this case. It was sweet and simple. No, there was no doubt in their minds that Lester had done the job. And because Nate’s property was on a direct line from the heist to where they picked up Lester, there was also no doubt that Nate could place him near the scene of the crime.
    Boz sighed. “Just tell us you saw him.”
    “But I didn’t. That wouldn’t be the truth.”
    Nerd then, nerd now. Christ . . .
    “Look, Nate,” Boz continued, as if speaking to afive-year-old. “Maybe you don’t get how serious this is. Lester whacked the driver of that armored car over the head with a wrench while he was peeing in the men’s room at the Texaco on Route Four. Then he went out to the truck, shot the driver’s partner in the side—”
    “Oh, no. Is he okay?”
    “Nobody’s okay, they get shot in the side,” Boz spat out. “Lemme finish.”
    “Sorry.”
    “Then drives the truck to Morton Woods Road, blows the back door off. He loads the money into another car and takes off, heading west—directly toward your place. We pick Lester up on the other side of your property a hour ago. He had to go past your house to get to where we found him. What d’you think about that?”
    “I think it . . . Well, it seems like it makes sense. But I didn’t see him. I’m sorry.”
    Boz reflected for a minute. “Nate, look,” he finally said, “we just don’t see eye to eye here.”
    “Eye to eye?” Nate asked uncertainly.
    “You’re in a different world from us,” the deputy continued, exasperated. “We know the kinda man Lester is. We live in that sewer every day.”
    “Sewer?”
    “You’re thinking you’ll just clam up and everything’ll be okay,” Ed filled in. “But that’s not how it’ll work. We know Lester. We know what he’s capable of.”
    “What’s that?” Nate asked. Trying to sound brave. But his hands were clenched, trembling, in his lap.
    “Using his damn knife on you, what d’you think ?” Boz shouted. “Jesus. You really don’t get it, do you?”
    They were doing the good- and bad-cop thing. The Procedure Manual had a whole section on it.
    “Say you don’t finger him now,” Ed offered gently. “He gets off. How long you think it’ll take for him to find you?”
    “ ’Cause he thinks I’m a witness, you mean?”
    “Find you and gut you,” Boz snapped. “Why, it’ll be no time at all. And I’m beginning not to care.”
    “Come on,” Ed said to his partner. “Let’s go easy on the poor kid.” Then looked at Nate’s frightened face. “But if we get him for armed robbery and attempted murder . . . He’ll go away for thirty years. You’ll be safe.”
    “I want to do the right thing,” Nate said. “But . . .” His voice trailed off.
    “Boz, he wants to help. I know he does.”
    “I do,” Nate said earnestly. And scrunched his eyes closed, thinking hard. “But I can’t lie. I can’t. My dad . . . You remember my dad. He taught me never to lie.”
    His dad was a nobody who couldn’t swim worth shit. That’s all they knew about his dad. Boz plucked his shirt away from his fat chest and examined the black patches of sweat under his arms. He walked in a slow circle around the boy, sighing.
    Nate cringed faintly, as if he were afraid of losing his gym shoes again.
    Finally Ed said in an easy voice, “Nate, you know we’ve had our disputes.”
    “Well, you guys used to pick on me a lot in school.”
    “Hell, that? That was just joshing,” Ed said earnestly. “We only