"If it's abuse you want, you big, stupid shit, I'll give it to you. What I've done so far is called reality therapy-and if I think the reality therapy isn't working, then I may really beat your ass. People have a right to defend themselves, Dane. If you want to be crazy and try to hurt people, don't be surprised or offended if someone hands you your head. This is the real world out here, my young friend, and you made the wrong move with the wrong person. You're extremely lucky you're not dead or permanently crippled right now, and I'm debating how I should drive that lesson home. What do you think? Should I knock out some more teeth, or just break your nose?"
The boy bowed his head, sobbed. "Please don't hurt me any more, Frederickson."
"I won't if you answer my questions and tell me the truth. Have you hurt anybody since you ran away?"
"No."
"Everyone thought you were long gone. What the hell are you doing here, and why did you try to kill me? I certainly don't think it's because you miss your desk. I never hurt you, and I even thought you and I were beginning to establish something of a working relationship."
The psychotic teenager shook his head, sobbed again. "I didn't want to do it, Frederickson."
"Then why did you?"
"Marilyn made me do it. She said I had to kill you if I wanted to stay with her."
"Dane, I really hope for your sake that this isn't crazy talk."
"It's not crazy talk, Frederickson."
"Who the hell is Marilyn?"
"She's my woman, man," the boy replied, raising his head. His voice had become considerably brighter. "She's beautiful, man. She helped me escape and then took me to live with her. Man, we've been blowing dope and fucking like bunnies."
I yanked on the sweat shirt, slinging Dane Potter none too gently up against the brick wall of the chapel. I anchored him there with my finger on his solar plexus. Now I could see that his eyes were cocaine-bright.
"What horseshit are you trying to hand me, Dane?"
The boy swallowed, grimaced, spat blood. "You hurt me bad, Frederickson."
"Who's this Marilyn? Some old girl friend?"
"Marilyn's no girl, Frederickson; she's a woman.'"
"How old is she?"
"I don't know how old she is."
"But she's not a kid?"
"No, man. I told you she's a-"
"How'd you meet her?"
"Two days ago I got a call down in the cottage. There was this woman on the line, and she talked in this low, real sexy voice. She told me she was dying to fuck my brains out; she actually said that. She told me she worked at the hospital, out in the records department at the front. She said I'd never seen her, but that she was always watching me. She said that she was in love with me, and she wanted to help me run away so that I could come and live with her. She told me she needed a big stud like me to keep her satisfied, and she wanted me around so she could fuck me any time she wanted. Recreation was showing us a movie that night, and she told me to slip out whenever I could and go down by the gym; the exit door there would be unlocked. That's what I did. The door was unlocked, just like she'd said it would be, and she was out there waiting for me in her car. Whooee! She drove me to her place, and we got right into bed. Man, I ain't never had a woman like that. And she had lots of coke-a whole pile of the stuff. We'd screw, blow some dope, then screw some more. Today, just after lunch, she said that I had to do something for her if I wanted to stay with her. I had to kill you."
"Kill me?"
Dane Potter nodded. "She drove me back here, and we parked and just kind of watched and waited. When you started walking off the grounds, she made me steal the truck; she said I should run you over first chance I got."
"Nobody made you do anything, Dane. You were just afraid of losing your meal ticket and a piece of ass."
The boy shook his head. "Marilyn's a spooky broad, Frederickson. Some of what you say is true, but it's also true that she kinda scared me."
"Tsk. Tsk. Poor you."
"When she found out that I missed you, she was pissed. She said that I didn't deserve a real woman like her, and that maybe she should kill me. She gave me that knife. She told me you'd eventually be coming out of that building tonight, so I just waited. I really am sorry, Frederickson."
"Why did she want you to kill me?"
"She didn't say."
"And you didn't ask?"
"Hey, man, I was high-you know what I mean? I wasn't really thinking about anything except getting more of Marilyn's dope and back into her pants."
"What kind of car did she drive?"
"A Mercedes; a red convertible."
"What does Marilyn look like?"
"Tall, long blond hair. She's got these great long legs, and big tits."
"Dane, what did the social worker you tried to rape look like?"
"Now that you mention it, she kinda looked like. ." Dane Potter paused, frowned. "You know about that?"
"Yeah. I know about that. I also know that you have a lot of sexual fantasies, most of them associated with violent acts."
The boy blinked slowly. "You don't believe me?"
"Where does Marilyn live?"
"Somewhere around here. It's about a half hour away. She's got this beautiful house, and a waterbed with-"
"Where around here?"
"Hey, man, I don't know. It was night, and I had my hand up her dress all the time she was driving. I wasn't exactly looking at the scenery."
"Do you think this story you're telling me gives you some kind of excuse for attacking me with a knife?"
"What do you mean?"
"Let's start all over again, Dane. Begin with how you managed to get out of the hospital, and then tell me where you've been."
"You don't believe me!"
"Let's see if I've got this straight. A tall, beautiful woman with long blond hair, long legs, and large breasts who drives a red Mercedes convertible and lives in a big house with a waterbed lusts after you so badly that she helps you run away from the hospital so that you can live with her and have all the sex and dope you want. Then she says you have to kill me if you want the sex and dope to keep coming. Right?"
"Right!"
"How did you know I'd be coming out of the building? Or did you just happen to see me walking across the lawn and then decided to have a go at me?"
"She told me where you'd be! It's the truth!"
"Dane, let's just say that I enjoyed the account of your adventures so much that I want to hear it all over again."
"Are you going to hurt me anymore?"
"No, Dane," I said wearily. "I just want you to tell me the truth."
The boy swallowed hard, shook his head. "I'm telling you the truth, Frederickson. Marilyn's waiting for me right now."
"Where?"
"Down the street. She's parked on the other side of the firehouse."
"She's sitting there in her red Mercedes convertible waiting for you to go back with her to her house for more sex and dope."
"Right. Go see for yourself."
Keeping a firm grip on Dane Potter's belt, I marched him the two blocks to the firehouse, where we stopped and looked down the side street. The street was empty, as I'd been certain it would be. Dane Potter looked genuinely bewildered, as if he really had been expecting to see a blonde in a red Mercedes convertible waiting for him.
"She left," the boy said in a tone of hurt and disbelief.
"It certainly looks that way," I said with a sigh. Despite myself, I was beginning to feel just a bit guilty. Dane Potter had indeed come at me with a knife-but then, Dane Potter was a certified loony; I'd beat on him badly, and scared him probably more than I had to. The boy had done some bad things to a few people, but his file also indicated that a few people had done some very bad things to him. "I'm taking you back to the hospital now, Dane," I continued as I steered him around and headed back the way we had come. "You're going to tell the staff there exactly what happened here tonight; whether or not you want to tell them about Marilyn is up to you. Then we'll see if we can't find a dentist on call who'll be able to put your teeth back in your head."