Linwood Barclay - Bad Guys

Book two in the Zack Walker series, 2005

SO, WHAT ARE YOU ASKING ME? Harley said. Are you asking me for drugs? If you want drugs, there are drugs. Theres alprazolam-thats your Xanax generic-or lorazepam; youve got your diazepam and-

Diaza-what?

Diazepam. Its not a cooking spray. Its Valium. Theres a huge list of antianxiety prescriptions out there, some better than others, some downright dangerous. We dont use barbiturates anymore, too addictive, sometimes fatal. Theres various herbal remedies, if youre into that sort of thing. Or, I dont know whether youve considered something like this before, but you could just lighten the fuck up.

Harleys not your average doctor. Hes more of a friend, with a medical degree, and a successful practice, and an examining room, which I happened to be sitting in at this moment, somewhat under duress. Harley and I were buddies back in high school, then lost touch a bit while I went to college for an English degree and he went off to medical school. Hey, I would say to him when we occasionally ran into one another, just what kind of job do you expect to get with a medical degree?

Years later, he became my doctor.

This appointment hadnt been my idea. It had been my wife Sarahs. And idea is probably the wrong word. Ultimatum would probably be a better one. Go see Harley, she said, or Im going to call a divorce lawyer. Or smother you in your sleep.

The threat about the divorce lawyer didnt worry me that much. Sarah has a low opinion of the legal profession, and would probably choose sticking with me over engaging the services of one of its members. But the smothering-me-in-my-sleep thing, that seemed within her range of capabilities.

The thing is, Harley continued, leaning up against the paper-covered examining bed, theres a lot of shit to deal with in life, and sometimes thats just what you have to do. Deal with it. Youre not the only one with a teenage daughter, you know. Mines twenty-two now, seems to finally have her head on straight, but two years ago she was too busy boffing some out-there art student to study for her midterms. The guy did a show of sculptures made from raw meat. You had to go early.

I cant seem to help it, I said. I worry. I worry all the time. Its the way Im hardwired. Sometimes Ive let it get the better of me.

I know, Harley said. I watch the news.

And Ive been trying to do better, honest to God, but this thing with Angie

How old is she now?

Eighteen.

Harleys eyes rolled, remembering. And what did you do, exactly?

Shed promised to be home by one in the morning. She was going out with some guy from where she worked for the summer, at the pool store. She sold chlorine and algaecide and tested water samples, and there was this guy who worked there, young kid, who went around the neighborhood maintaining peoples pools for them.

Yeah.

So she started going out with Pool Boy.

This is what you called him. Pool Boy.

Not to his face, or to Angie. It was just a name I had for him, is all. Anyway, she was out with him one night, and I was already awake around midnight, and sometimes if Im up that late, Ill stay up to make sure she gets home okay. Ill read. But if I read in bed, it keeps Sarah up, with the light on, so I went down to the living room, stretched out on the front couch right by the front door, so Id be right there when Angie got home. Even if I nodded off, Id hear her when she got in.

Go on.

Well, I guess I did doze off, and when I woke up, it was two-thirty in the morning, which meant Angie was way past curfew, way past when she said shed be home. So I got up, went into the kitchen and called her cell, but couldnt get an answer.

So, knowing you, you did what you do best, Harley said. You panicked.

I did not panic, I said. I went out looking for her. I knew where Pool Boy lived-he lives with his parents-and what kind of car he drove, so I drove over there, and the whole house is dark, except for one light in the basement.

Not a good sign, Harley said, nodding slightly.

Yeah, well, I got out of my car, looked around his, then went up to the house.

You knocked on the door at, what, nearly three in the morning?

No, I kind of didnt want to do that unless I knew for sure Angie was there, since I was probably going to be waking up Pool Boys mom and dad, so I thought Id just have a look in the basement window. I had to get down on my knees-theyre these shallow windows, only come up about a foot from ground level.

Harley sighed, closed his eyes.

There was a bit of a gap in the curtains, and I could see it was your basic rec room, wood paneling on the walls, old couch.

And who was on the couch, Im afraid to ask, Harley said.

No one, I said. Look, you need to understand, I dont want to violate Angies privacy, I know what kids are up to today, but its a safety thing, okay? I just needed to know that she was okay.

So you didnt see her in the window, Harley said. Was Pool Boy there?

Not inside, I said. But when I got up from looking in the window, I noticed that he was standing next to me.

Awkward, said Harley.

And his dad was next to him. I guess the dad heard the car, his son was still up, they came out to investigate.

Was this before or after they called the cops?

After. But by the time they arrived, wed sorted it out. I mean, they realized who I was. Pool Boy said hed dropped off Angie around twelve-thirty, and asked if Id checked her bedroom before Id come to his place.

Which you hadnt.

I was sure Id hear her when she came in. But she says she tiptoed, didnt want to wake me.

How long ago was this?

About a month. Before school started up again. Angies still hardly speaking to me. And the thing is, now I think shes got some sort of stalker.

Harley dropped into the other chair in the small examining room. He was looking pretty exhausted. I seem to have that effect on people at times. A stalker.

Not the Pool Boy. I think theyve broken up.

Theres a surprise, Harley said.

Is this part of the new medicine? I asked. Crack wise while your patients open up to you?

Of course not. Go ahead. I shall remain nonjudgmental.

She calls him a stalker, but you know how kids talk. Anyone whos interested in them they dont like is categorized a stalker. But he calls her a lot, shows up unexpectedly wherever she is. Im just worried this guy may be some kind of a nutcase. But Im kind of in a bad spot now, what with the Pool Boy incident being so fresh in everyones mind, that anything I say or do looks like some kind of hysterical overreaction.

Just because a guy calls her a few times and shows up where your daughter hangs out doesnt make him a serial killer.

I know that. But I get, jeez, I get this knot in my chest, worrying about my family. Its not like we havent had some problems in the past.

That was then. That was an isolated incident. Harley leaned forward a bit in his chair, like he wanted our conversation to be more intimate. Zack, he said slowly, I dont want to put you on anything unless you feel its absolutely necessary. Its better to work out your problems without medications.

I totally agree, I said. Im not asking for a prescription. Its not like Im a hypochondriac or something, although, if you did diagnose something, Id have to conclude it was fatal.

Maybe you need to focus your attention on work, get your mind off whats happening at home. What youre going through isnt any different than what every other parent goes through. We all worry about our kids, but we have to let them live their own lives, you know.