As he watched his friend, Dave searched for some resemblance to Larry Smith, some feature that might suggest that Billy and Larry were one and the same. If Dave had heretofore overlooked some similarity, if he could distinguish it now, it might support the veracity of Larry's story.
Staring intently, Dave analyzed Billy's facial structure, examined it more carefully than he ever had. He could see no reflection of Larry, no hint of the killer.
Billy's features were elfin; they matched his childlike, mischievous personality but in no way implied a connection to Larry. The nose was too thin, too narrow at the base; the mouth wasn't wide enough, the ears not big enough; the chin was too sharp, the jawline too clean and angular; the color of the hair was about right, but Dave couldn't imagine the unruly flip of it mowed to a Larry Smith crew-cut.
There was certainly no surface resemblance. Closing his eyes, Dave tried to envision what Billy might look like in twenty years, tried to extrapolate a likely result based on his current appearance. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't picture Billy as a middle-aged man; not only could he not imagine Billy becoming Larry, but he couldn't imagine him being any older than he was at that moment. Billy was just too familiar, too young in every way for Dave to conjure a vision of him at a more advanced age.
Dave looked at his friend, closed his eyes, then looked again, hoping for a different impression. It was no good; no matter what he did, he couldn't see any similarities between Billy and Larry, couldn't imagine Billy in his forties, Billy becoming Larry Smith. It was possible, he supposed, that Billy could change dramatically over the years, metamorphose so completely as to become unrecognizable; it was possible that he could add weight and muscle to his wiry frame, lose the thinness and definition of his features, broaden and realign to Larry's meatier dimensions. Still, Dave could only think of those possibilities in the abstract, couldn't frame them with any kind of clarity in his mind. He'd sought some physical evidence to support Larry's claims, something to guide his decision...but there was nothing.
When it came down to it, the only thing that Dave had to go on was what Larry had told him. Without the benefit of concrete proof, he would have to make his judgment on the basis of what he'd heard.
Had Larry lied, or had he told the truth?
Dave's first instinct was to reject Larry's presentation as an outright sham. It all seemed too unbelievable, too fantastic and contrived. Though Dave had been willing to accept that Larry was psychic, that he could foretell the future, he found it hard to believe that Larry had come from the future. Precognition, at least, seemed possible; Dave had heard of people who seemed to possess such an ability. On the other hand, time travel struck Dave as an impossibility; it took a far greater leap of faith to believe in time travel than it took to believe in precognition, even for someone with as active an imagination as Dave.
The new story explained all the amazing events with which Larry had been involved...but the other story, the psychic story, had done the same. The time travel tale was no more convincing in illuminating Larry's actions than the psychic fable had been. The only substantial difference between the two stories was Larry's new admission that he was a killer...but that confession had been irrelevant in light of the discovery of the faceless kid.
In describing his tale of tragedy and murder, Larry had projected great sincerity, plenty of emotion. He'd seemed genuinely touched, had expressed the appropriate feelings for each phase of the narrative...and yet, he'd done no less in relating the previous story. Given his expertise in delivering falsehoods, his latest performance couldn't be seen as any kind of validation.
No, the time travel tale didn't have the ring of truth to it; simple logic and intuition pushed Dave toward disbelief, told him not to fall for the same trick twice. Probably, Larry had concocted the whole thing just to keep Dave and Billy from interfering in his escape.
Still, if Larry wanted the partners out of the way, why had he not simply killed them? If he'd been lying, there should have been no reason for him not to use the quickest and most effective method of silencing the witnesses. It would certainly have been easy enough for him to murder them out there at Wolf's Rock; there was no one else around, and he'd already captured Billy, and he could have drawn Dave in with just a few threats to kill his friend. Once dead and hidden in the crannies of the rock, Dave and Billy probably wouldn't have been found for a long time, maybe even weeks or months if Larry had moved their car from the area. It would have been the perfect way to remove the two obstacles, so why had Larry refrained from taking their lives? Had he shown them mercy because they had befriended him, because he liked them? Dave didn't think so; it didn't make sense that a ruthless killer would spare the two people who could most hurt him, just because they had been drinking buddies of his for a few weeks.
If Larry had been lying, why had he left Dave and Billy alive? For that matter, why had he given Dave so much new information? In confessing to the other murders, Larry had provided Dave with fresh ammunition which he could use against him, additional data which could be taken to the police. Was Larry so sure that Dave wouldn't move against him that he didn't care how much Dave knew? If Larry had been lying, why had he bothered to tell Dave anything?
Also, why had Larry not been more worried about the video? He'd made several stabs at finding out if it really existed, but he hadn't pressed the inquiry as energetically as Dave thought he should have. If he'd been lying, if he was just a killer fleeing the area, would he want to risk leaving behind a video which linked him to the death of Tom Martin?
Larry had seemed confident that Dave wouldn't use the video even if he had it; in addition, he'd said that it was too late for such a video to do Dave any good. That didn't seem like a sensible assumption; without some supernatural force to whisk him from the face of the earth, he could still be apprehended, and a video of his visit to Martin's house could still sear him in court. It was definitely not too late for a video to run Larry aground...not if he'd been lying about his penchant for time traveling, anyway.
It didn't seem possible that Larry had been telling the truth; his claims of being a time traveler, of being Billy, were too preposterous to be factual. Still, Dave was disturbed by those things which suggested otherwise-Larry's failure to kill the witnesses, his donation of damaging information, his limited interest in the video. There was also, of course, the proof that Larry had offered-the detailed rundown of Dave's most closely-guarded secrets.
The secrets; they were difficult to dismiss. Larry shouldn't have known about them at all, certainly shouldn't have been able to recount them in such great detail. Only two people should have been privy to those secrets: Dave and Billy Bristol.
In the initial storm of shock and paranoia that he'd experienced while listening to Larry, Dave had doubted Billy's trustworthiness, wondered if his best friend had betrayed him. Now, though, as he calmed and thought it through more carefully, Dave decided that Billy couldn't have breached his confidence so egregiously. It just wasn't the sort of thing that Billy would do; Billy knew how important it was to Dave that no one learn certain things about him, and he'd sworn many a time never to abuse Dave's trust. Dave couldn't accept that Billy would spill his guts to anyone, not even if he were loaded up with booze.
The cowardly rejection of Stacy Evans; the ill-fated trip to the whorehouse. Larry shouldn't have known about either of them, and that was all there was to it. Each incident was a source of great shame to Dave; try as he might, he couldn't imagine Billy divulging such dark moments to someone who was little more than a stranger. Perhaps, Billy might have told the story of how Dave had flattened Tom Martin's tires, for Martin was now dead and that secret was no longer a danger...but Billy wouldn't have opened the books on the rest of it, ever.
How, then, had Larry known? The notion that he was Billy, that he was from the future, was ridiculous...but what other explanation could there be? Was he a mind-reader, perhaps, able to pluck memories from people's heads as easily as if he were pluc
king flowers from their beds? That, at least, seemed more believable than the time-travel theory. Still, if he could read minds, why had he not known that the blackmail video didn't exist? When Dave had first threatened him with the video, why had Larry not simply exposed the lie and sent him on his way?
And what about the events which had suggested that Larry was able to foresee the future? In order to conclude that Larry had been lying, Dave would have to shrug off all of them, chalk them up to coincidence...but that seemed impossible. In two cases-the deaths of the Dumbrowskis and Martin-Larry's foreknowledge could be dismissed as a killer's awareness of his own plans...but for the rest of his precognitive flourishes, Dave could conjure no rational explanation, nothing that would hold water if Larry had been lying.
As a mere mortal, a liar, a regular guy, Larry shouldn't have been able to predict that Peggy Kutz would turn Dave in for taking chocolate milk, or that the cop would show up at Billy's trailer, or that Boris would try to kill himself. If Larry wasn't a psychic and not a time traveler, then how had he made the predictions? In particular, how had he known every detail of Boris' suicide attempt?
Perhaps, thought Dave, Larry really was psychic.
Maybe, just maybe, Larry had told the truth in his first confession, then deliberately recanted to throw Dave off his trail. If Larry was psychic after all, that would explain the incidents with Peggy and the cop and Boris, explain them more believably than the time travel claims. Perhaps, Dave's original theories about Larry were correct; maybe, the only factor that Dave hadn't guessed earlier was Larry's propensity for killing.
Still, if Larry could see the future but wasn't from the future, how had he known Dave's secrets? If he wasn't who he claimed to be, how could he have retold the stories of Stacy Evans and the whorehouse?
Had Larry lied, or had he told the truth?
Dave couldn't figure it out.
The more that he thought about it all, the more confused he became. His instincts pressed him to reject Larry's outrageous story; at the same time, he found that he couldn't wholly refute what Larry had told him.
Adding to his confusion was a heavy measure of fear, fear that Larry had told the truth. Dave knew that the fear was irrational, that Larry couldn't possibly have been truthful...and yet, he couldn't help but worry about what might happen if the killer's tale had been something other than a fabrication.
If Larry had told the truth, and Dave acted against him, Billy Bristol's life could be ruined. Maybe, if Dave stopped Larry from killing the last victim, the wheels of fate would reassert their awful course, push Billy into the gutter and finally the electric chair.
Maybe, everything would be all right for a while, and Dave would think that he'd made the right choice...but then, after five years, or ten, or twenty, the terrible pattern that Larry had described would take hold. Perhaps, Billy would start to go downhill, and Dave wouldn't be able to help him, or wouldn't even realize what was happening in time to help him.
"Maybe I'm lying," Larry had said, "but if I'm not, do you dare try to stop me, Dave? Will you be able to live with the consequences if I'm telling you the truth?"
Larry had made a good point there. As long as Dave couldn't be sure, one-hundred percent sure that Larry had been lying, how could he oppose the killer? As long as there was the slightest chance that opposition to Larry would harm Billy Bristol, how could Dave defy Larry's pleas?
Still, how could Dave let Larry kill again? If Larry had lied, he could very well extend his killing spree beyond the single victim whom he claimed would be last. He might kill just one more, or he might kill many more, maybe dozens more during his lifetime...and Dave would be responsible for those murders. Maybe, someday, Larry would even come back to town and extinguish more of Dave's friends and acquaintances, maybe Dave himself.
Dave felt obligated to prevent further deaths; likewise, he felt obligated to prevent his best friend's potential decline. In order to fulfill one obligation, it seemed that he would have to shirk the other. Furthermore, without concrete evidence to support or refute Larry's claims, Dave might never know if the obligation that he finally chose was the one most worthy of attention.
It seemed impossible that Larry was Billy, that he'd come from the future. Dave found the whole notion ridiculous, and he was angry that Larry thought him so gullible that he would buy into it for a second.
At the same time, however, Dave was throttled by doubt, by concern for his friend. Larry's recitation of Dave's most personal secrets haunted him, insisting that the impossible might be true.
"Even if you don't believe me," Larry had said, "can you afford to take the chance that I'm not telling the truth? You may think I'm lying, but can you be totally sure that I am?"
Totally sure.
No, Dave couldn't be totally sure.
Too much. It was just too much.
With a long sigh, Dave slowly shook his head. Wincing, he stared at his friend, wondered what he should do next, what he could do.
Abruptly, Billy shifted, twitched one leg in the dirt. At the movement, Dave's heart started to race; he fully expected Billy's eyes to spring open at that inopportune moment, before a decision had been made or a plan conceived...but Billy's eyes remained closed and he didn't stir further.
Though his friend stayed still and silent, Dave took his flicker of movement as a bad sign, an indication that he would soon regain consciousness. There might only be a few minutes left before Billy came around; Dave had to make up his mind quickly.
Freshly agitated, he thought furiously, strained to make sense of the puzzle. He had to decide, had to decide; he couldn't keep spinning his wheels indefinitely, hoping for inspiration to alight like a dove upon his brow.
Larry was a killer, and he would kill again, kill at least once more. Dave felt that he had to try to stop the guy; he felt responsible for whoever was next in Larry's vicious sights.
Still...
As long as Dave couldn't be absolutely sure that the killer had lied, how could he attempt to stop him? As long as there was the slightest chance that Billy would be harmed, how could Dave stand in Larry's way?
He couldn't.
He had to.
As long as there was the chance that Larry was lying, how could Dave just step aside and allow the killing to continue?
He couldn't.
He had to stop Larry. The faceless kid, all red and white and red...he couldn't let that happen again.
And yet...
"Will you be able to live with the consequences if I'm telling you the truth?"
And yet, there was Billy. Dave couldn't risk turning him over to a horrible fate, the lifetime of suffering which Larry predicted might be his. Larry had claimed that all the agony that he'd inflicted on others was the price of Billy's salvation; if, indeed, Larry had told the truth, how could Dave let all those people have died for nothing? How could he dare condemn his best friend?
He couldn't.
And yet, there was the faceless kid and Tom Martin and Ernie's parents and the other victims and the victims yet to come. There was that sight in the other trench, all red and red and red and Larry was a monster even if he was a time traveler and he had to be had to be stopped.
Dave had to stop Larry. Dave had to protect Billy. Each duty was of equal importance; neither could be neglected.
Stopping Larry; protecting Billy. Dave had to choose one or the other; certainly, he couldn't do both.
He had to choose.
And yet...
Maybe...
Maybe...maybe he could do both.
Frowning with a new intensity, revived by a flicker of hope, Dave rose from the dirt and began to pace. As slowly as the ideas congealed in his mind, he moved from one wall of the trench to the other.
Maybe he could do both.
He had to stop Larry, end the killing; at the same time, he had to make sure that Billy's future wouldn't be adversely affected.
Larry had claimed that the killing was necessary to save Bill
y, change the course of history. Even if Larry had told the truth about his motive for the murders, was the killing necessary?
Maybe, there was another way to overrule fate.
Larry had said that his next victim was the guy from out of town who would have framed Billy for murder. Larry had explained that the guy had to die so that he could never come in contact with Billy. Perhaps, the out-of-towner could be neutralized by other means, though.
Judging from Larry's presentation, Dave supposed that the guy's encounter with Billy wasn't scheduled to occur for at least several more years. Dave had no idea how old the guy would be at the time of the encounter, but he was certainly younger now, maybe five or ten years younger, maybe as much as fifteen or twenty years younger. Perhaps, then, just as it wasn't too late to alter the course of Billy's life, so too was it not too late to reshape the out-of-town guy.
Maybe, Larry could be persuaded to adopt this alternative. Though he'd been adamant about the necessity of killing the guy, he'd also pointed out that the final murder would be insurance, extra protection which might never be needed. If Larry's story was true, his theories accurate, Billy's life had already been straightened out; the other murders had eliminated the prime movers of Billy's downfall, and the final execution would just be icing on the cake. That being the case, maybe Larry could be talked out of killing again, talked into trying to change the out-of-towner instead of expunging him.
If Larry had told the truth, if Dave could convince him to spare the next victim--the last victim, according to Larry--the whole deadly fiasco could be resolved satisfactorily. Dave's twin duties would be accomplished: he would prevent Larry from killing again, and he would still be able to protect Billy's future.
Of course, Dave wouldn't hesitate to run to the police if things went sour. He couldn't go to them immediately, because they would surely want to apprehend Larry instead of allowing Dave to negotiate with him; however, if Larry wouldn't agree to spare the out-of-towner, if he broke his promise not to try to hurt Dave or Billy, if he admitted that the time-travel tale had been a hoax, Dave would bring in the cops. Once he confronted Larry, getting away from him and getting to the police could be a problem; Dave decided that he would just have to handle it when the time came, though.
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