Twisted

did it with the kids we liked.”
    “Yeah?” Nate asked.
    “But sometimes,” Ed continued, “I guess it got a little out of hand. You know how it is? You’re fooling around, you get pumped up.”
    Neither of them thought this little salamander had ever been pumped up (for Christ’s sake, a man does at least one sport).
    “Look, Nate, will you let bygones be bygones?” Ed held out his hand. “I’ll apologize for all of that stuff we done.”
    Nate stared at Ed’s meaty hand.
    Burning bushes, Ed thought, he’s gonna cry. He glanced at Boz, who said, “I’ll second that, Nate.” The Procedure Manual said that after the subject has been worn down, the bad cop comes around and starts to act like a good cop. “I’m sorry for what we done.”
    Ed said, “Come on, Nate. What d’you say? Let’s put our differences behind us.”
    Nate’s spooky face looked from one deputy to the other. He took Ed’s hand, shook it cautiously. Ed wanted to wipe it after they released the grip. But he just smiled and said, “Now, man to man, what can you tell us?”
    “Okay. I did see someone. But I couldn’t swear it was Lester.”
    Ed and Boz exchanged cool glances.
    Nate continued fast. “Wait. Let me tell you what I saw.”
    Boz—who of the two had worse handwriting but could spell better—opened a notebook and began to write.
    “I was sitting on my porch reading.”
    Porn, probably.
    “And listening to music.”
    “I love you, Satan. Take me, take me, take me . . .”
    Ed kept an encouraging smile on his face. “Go ahead.”
    “Okay. I heard a car on Barlow Road. I remember it because Barlow Road isn’t real close but the car was making a ton of noise so I figured it had a bad muffler or something.”
    “And then?”
    “Okay . . .” Nate’s voice cracked. “Then I saw somebody running through the grass, heading down to the river across from my place. And maybe he was carrying some big white bags.”
    Bingo!
    Boz: “That’s near the caves, right?”
    Not as sexy as Luray’s maybe, but plenty big enough to hide a half million dollars. Ed glanced at him and nodded. “And he went into one of ’em?” he asked Nate.
    “I guess. I didn’t see exactly ’cause of that old black willow.”
    “You can’t give us any description?” Boz asked, smiling but wishing oh so badly that he could be a bad cop again.
    “I’m sorry, guys,” Nate whined. “I’d help you if I could. All that grass, the tree. I just couldn’t see.”
    Pussy faggot . . .
    But at least he’d pointed them in the right direction. They’d find some physical evidence that would lead to Lester.
    “Okay, Nate,” Ed said, “that’s a big help. We’regoing to check out a few things. Think we better keep you here till we get back. For your own protection.”
    “I can’t leave?” He was brushing at the cowlick. “I really wanta get home. I got a lot of stuff to do.”
    Involving Playboy and your right hand? Boz asked silently.
    “Naw, better you stay here. We won’t be long.”
    “Wait,” Nate said uneasily. “Can Lester get out?”
    Boz looked at Ed. “Oh, hey, be practically impossible for him to get outa that lockup.” Ed nodded.
    “Practically?” the boy asked.
    “Naw, it’s okay.”
    “Sure, it’s okay.”
    “Wait—”
    Outside, they walked to the squad car. Boz won the toss and got in the driver’s seat.
    “Oooo-eee.” Ed said, “that boy’s gonna sweat up a storm every time Lester rubs his butt on his chair.”
    “Good,” said Boz and sped out onto the road.

    They were surprised.
    They’d been talking in the car and decided that Nate had made up most of what he was telling them just so he could get home. But, no, as soon as they started down Barlow Road, they spotted fresh tire tracks, even in the failing evening light.
    “Well, lookie that.”
    They followed the trail into the grove of low hemlock and juniper and, weapons drawn, as the Procedure Manual dictated, they came up on either side of the low-riding Pontiac.
    “Ain’t been here long,” Boz said, reaching through the grill and touching the radiator.
    “Keys’re inside. Fire it up, see if it’s what the boy heard.”
    Boz cranked the engine and from the tailpipe came the sound of a small plane.
    “Stupid for a getaway car,” he shouted. “That Lester’s got wood for brains.”
    “Back her out. Let’s take a look.”
    Boz eased the old car into a clearing, where the light was better. He shut off the engine.
    They