A Perfect Evil

Chapter 93

There was no place for Timmy to run. Nowhere to hide. He slipped down the riverbank, close to the water. Could he swim across, float downstream? He examined the black, churning river racing past him. It was too strong, too fast and much too cold. The stranger had stopped to finish his cigarette, but his direction hadn’t changed. In the silence, Timmy heard the stranger mumbling to himself, but he couldn’t make out the words. Every once in a while he kicked rocks and dirt into the water. The splashes were now close enough to spray Timmy.

He’d have to make a run for it, back into the woods. At least there he could hide. He’d never make it in the water. His shivers from the cold were already close to convulsions. The water would only make it worse.

Timmy peeked over the riverbank. The stranger was lighting another cigarette. Now. He needed to go now. He scrambled up the bank, kicking rocks and dirt into the water-explosive slashes giving him away. He barely made it to the road when his ankle buckled under him. He slammed down on knees and elbows. He struggled to his feet, then suddenly flew up off the ground. He kicked at air and clawed at the arm around his waist. Another arm squeezed around his neck.

“Settle down, you little shit.”

Timmy started screaming and shouting. The arm squeezed harder, cutting off his air, choking him.

When the car came squealing down the winding road, the stranger still kept his vise grip on Timmy. The car skidded to a stop in front of them, and still the stranger made no attempt to move or flee. The headlights blinded Timmy, but he recognized Deputy Hal. Why didn’t the stranger release him? Timmy’s neck hurt bad. He clawed at the arm again. Why didn’t the stranger make a run for it?

“What’s going on here?” Deputy Hal demanded. He and another deputy got out of the car and approached slowly.

Timmy didn’t understand why they didn’t draw their guns. Couldn’t they tell what was going on? Couldn’t they tell the stranger was hurting him?

“I found the kid hiding in the woods,” the stranger told them, only he sounded excited and proud. “You might say I rescued him.”

“I see that,” said Deputy Hal.

No, it was a lie. Timmy wanted to tell them it was all a lie, but he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak with the arm squeezing his neck. Why were they looking as if they believed the stranger? He was the killer. Couldn’t they see that?

“Why don’t the two of you get in with us. Come on, Timmy. You’re safe now.”

Slowly the arm released from around Timmy’s neck. His feet touched the ground. Timmy pulled free and ran to Deputy Hal, tripping on his swollen ankle.

Hal grabbed Timmy by the shoulders and gently shoved him behind him. Then Deputy Hal pulled out his gun and said to the stranger, “Come on, now. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Eddie.”