The House Next Door

by James Patterson

  “He goes by other names as well,” Witten is saying now. He takes a small pad out of his pocket and begins to read. “Burt Polley. Dennis Barton. Lou Corley.”

  I shake my head to all of them.

  “Here’s a picture of him,” he says. He pulls out a mug shot of a nice-looking man in his forties. Front view. Profile. No. Can’t be. This is clearly a picture of…

  “Vincent Selko,” he says.

  And the earth opens up. I am sucked to the bottom. I know I am standing in the school parking lot, except I have fallen down into the very reaches of hell.

  “Charming guy, from everything we hear,” he says. “Able to con a lot of people into doing his dirty work. Down at headquarters, we call him the Suburban Manson.”

  He puts the picture away carefully in his wallet.

  He keeps talking. I know, because I see his lips moving. But I’m only catching bits and pieces of what he says.

  “Your family…tailor-made…husband in finance…teenage son who drives…and you…”

  He doesn’t have to say it: a lost, lonely housewife looking for love in all the wrong places.

  Vince using Ned, using Jake, using Joey—maybe I can believe that.

  But using me, after all the things he’s said and done?

  No. There’s no way he could have made all that up.

  “Why are you telling me all this?” I ask.

  “Because…we need your help.”

  “No!” I say. I shake my head violently.

  Witten pauses a moment. “Mrs. Sherman,” he says, very quietly, “we have your son on tape. Making deliveries, with Vince in the car.” I can tell by the way he stares at me that he’s telling the truth.

  “And your husband has been laundering money for him. Several million dollars in overseas investments.”

  “What do you…want me to do?” I ask.

  “We want you to wear a wire.”

  “I can’t do that!” I say. He thinks it’s because I’m frightened, or in denial. But that’s only part of it.

  If I’m wearing a wire, Vince will feel it when he hugs me.

  “Well, here’s the thing,” Witten says carefully. “If you work with us—that’ll go a long way toward helping your son and your husband. They’re looking at jail time. Serious jail time. But if you agree to help us reel this guy in…”

  “What you’re asking me to…this is just too…I can’t…I need to talk to…think about…” I say. It’s more of a sputter than a sentence.

  “Of course,” Witten says.

  This is all too much for me. I want to sit down but there is no place to sit. Instead, I lean against a car and put my head in my hands.

  I start to sob.

  “I know this is hard to hear,” Witten says. His tone is so gentle, I expect him to put his arm around me. But he doesn’t. “You need to know: The guy is dangerous. He’s destroyed a lot of people who got in his way.”

  Destroyed? Does he mean blackmailed? Killed? Or just broke their hearts.

  “And…he may know we’re on to him.”

  “What do I do?” I ask.

  “You’ll hear from us. Meanwhile? Just stay away from him,” he says as he heads back to his car.

  Then he adds, as if he knew the truth: “If you can.”

  Chapter 34

  The Kiddie Carnival meeting. The other mothers look up as I enter. They stare. I must look even worse than I feel. I stumble through some lame excuses. A sudden emergency…a sick kid at home…my mother is ill. I’m babbling. Do they believe me? Who cares.

  Then I run out. I dial Ned’s office. I get his answering machine and leave a message: Come home! Urgent! I leave the same message on his cell as an email and as a text. Where the hell is he?

  I call his secretary’s cell, since it’s after hours. She gives me a number where Ned can be reached. It seems familiar. But my brain is racing too fast to stop and sort it out. I dial it. And I hear a voice message: “You’ve reached the office of Dr. Maggie Treleven…”

  Say, what?

  Ned is in a session with Maggie? Ned, who hates therapy and was only going because I insisted?

  Or—wait. Maybe it’s a whole other scenario. Is he seeing her behind my back? Are they having an affair?

  No. Impossible! But even if it’s true—no time to deal with it now.

  Somehow, I am able to drive back home. I send Ned more texts, more emails, more messages. Still no response.

  All I can do now is wait. And wait. The clock is ticking.

  Then suddenly, I hear a car in the driveway. Thank God! Ned is home!

  But as I run to the window, I see it’s not Ned at all.

  It’s Vince.

  Chapter 35

  Today, I’m frightened. Does he know what’s happened?

  Just to be on the safe side, I grab my cell phone and press Video to start recording. I put the phone in the living room, on the table next to the lamp.

  Vince rings the bell.

  “Hi,” he says. He smiles. “Okay if I come in?”

  “Sure,” I say. I try not to seem jittery. If he senses I am, he’ll know something’s up.

  “Are you alone?” he asks. I nod yes. Then he leans in and hugs me. We stand that way for quite a while.

  “I’ve missed you,” he says. “Is everything okay?”

  No.

  I want to say: The FBI thinks you’re a drug dealer. I think Joey is peddling drugs for you—unless he’s not. My husband is somehow involved or having an affair with our therapist. Maybe both. Maybe neither. And the cops want me to wear a wire so they can reel you in.

  But I say nothing.

  “Something wrong?” he asks.

  I try not to look at him. I don’t want to get lost in those blue eyes.

  “Tell me the truth,” I say. “Did you do it?”

  He looks—what? Confused? Frightened? In my state of mind, I can’t quite tell.

  “Do what?”

  “All those things…they said you did.”

  Now he looks concerned. “Who have you been talking to?” he asks.

  “The FBI.”

  “Whoa.” He takes a step backward. “The FBI was here?”

  “They arrested Jake,” I say.

  Now things are really beginning to spin out of control.

  “Do you know anything about…any of this?” I ask. “The pills? The ones Joey has in his room? Are you involved…Is Ned…?”

  I can’t even get the words out. I’m sweating like crazy. How could I ever wear a wire? I’d electrocute myself.

  But he seems relaxed. “C’mere,” he says. He pulls me toward him and onto the couch. There’s a part of me that really wants us to just dissolve into kisses.

  But all the other parts are afraid.

  As I pull away, I accidentally knock into the side table. My phone drops to the floor. Like the gentleman he’s always been, Vince picks it up. He looks at it. He sees it’s been recording. He frowns. Now what?

  He slams the phone down on the coffee table, shattering the screen.

  Then he slaps me across the face.

  I cry out with shock and pain.

  “You bitch,” he says. “Were you trying to trick me?”

  “Vince! No!”

  He jumps up and grabs my arm. He’s holding it too tight.

  “That hurts!” I say. But he’s dragging me to the front door. “Wait! Where are we going?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  I try to pull away. But he’s way stronger than I am. I scream.

  “Shut up,” he says.

  He slaps me again.

  On the way out the door, I stumble. I trip on the pavement, scraping my knees. They start to bleed.

  But Vince is in a hurry. He picks me up by my hair and drags me toward his car. I’m trying to kick him and pull away, but he grabs my other arm and twists it behind me. He opens his car door and starts to push me inside.

  Suddenly there’s a loud horn.

  It startles him. He l
ets go of me and I run in the direction of the horn. It’s Ned! He’s seen what is happening and drives up over our lawn. Frazzled, out of breath, I open the door and jump in.

  “Drive!” I say to Ned.

  Because there’s no time to say anything else.

  Chapter 36

  Ned pulls out as fast as he can…but Vince is faster. He gets in his car and zooms toward us. I feel a jolt and hear a sickening crunch. Vince has slammed his car into our rear bumper!

  Even worse, he’s backing up slowly. He’s going to do it again!

  “Drive, drive!” I scream, as if our lives depended on it.

  Because right now, they do.

  Vince isn’t just trying to slow us down or even stop us.

  Somehow, he’s turned into a madman. And he’s trying to kill us.

  There’s so much to ask Ned. So much to tell him. But for now we just need to get as far away from Vince as possible.

  Ned floors the pedal. Our car screeches down our quiet suburban street.

  My heart is racing. I look back. Vince’s front bumper is smashed in. Smoke is seeping from under his hood.

  But Vince quickly straightens out and accelerates directly toward us.

  “Go faster, Ned!” I say. “He’s still coming!”

  “Laura, this is crazy. We have to call 911!”

  He’s right. But I realize with horror that my iPhone is still on my coffee table, where Vince smashed it. “I don’t have my cell!”

  “Take mine,” Ned says, reaching for his front right pocket.

  “No, I’ll get it. You focus on the road. Just get us out of here!”

  I grip the car door to steady myself as we make a squealing left turn at the end of the block. We’re soon flying down another tree-lined street, passing station wagons parked in driveways, bikes strewn across lawns, children playing in front yards.

  Vince is still on our tail—and getting closer.

  I manage to pull Ned’s phone from his jacket pocket and fumble to call the police…but I can’t. There are no bars. No service.

  “Look out!” I scream as a silver minivan starts backing out of a driveway right in front of us. I reach over and smack the horn as Ned swerves. We just miss it.

  But so does Vince. Who’s still coming for us.

  “Let’s head to a busy street,” I say. “With lots of cars, people. Somebody will see us. They’ll call the cops.”

  “I’ll turn on Ridge Road,” Ned says.

  “No!” I say. “Take a left here! It’ll be faster!”

  “Here? That’s a sidewalk—and a park, with a fence! And—”

  “Trust me! Do it now!”

  Ned cuts the wheel sharply and our car leaps up onto the curb. We both bang our heads on the roof as it lands.

  “Go, go!” I scream.

  Ned listens. We pick up speed…

  And then we crash directly through a rickety chain-link fence!

  Thankfully, the lawn is empty because the sprinklers are on. Our tires slip and slide like crazy when they hit the wet grass. The sprinklers pelt us with water like the inside of a car wash. I reach over and turn on the windshield wipers.

  “Park Street is just on the other side,” I say. “Once we get there—”

  Suddenly two loud pops ring out behind us. They sound like fireworks, like on the Fourth of July. I’m confused, but only for a few seconds.

  Because I hear a third pop—and our rear windshield shatters.

  “Oh, my God!” I scream. “He’s shooting at us!”

  Chapter 37

  I duck low in my seat…Bang! Another shot. This one ricochets off our trunk.

  I look in my side view mirror: OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR. Vince’s arm is sticking out the window, aiming a gun right at us.

  Oh God. How close is he?

  Ned zigzags back and forth, trying to dodge the bullets. We’re like human targets in one of Ben’s video games. I scream as Vince shoots twice more. Both shots miss us. Then we reach the end of the park.

  There’s another chain-link fence ahead of us. “Hang on!” Ned yells.

  We crash through it and take a sharp right onto busy Park Street. Cars honk and veer out of our way.

  Bang! Another shot hits us—this one on the side somewhere. Ned swerves across both lanes to avoid the next one—and into oncoming traffic!

  This is crazy. I’ve been stopped on this street for a dangling license plate. Where are the traffic cops now, when we need them?

  We smash into someone’s mailbox. It goes flying, sending letters fluttering through the air like snow.

  “Just keep going!” I plead. “We have to lose him, we have to—”

  And then suddenly, I hear it.

  “Aaagghhhh…!”

  An animal cry. A sound filled with pain and fear. Half wail, half scream.

  An inhuman sound.

  Except…it’s coming from Ned!

  There’s a giant red spot on his right shoulder, getting bigger and bigger. It looks like a large red corsage. But it’s far worse.

  He’s been hit!

  “Ned—are you okay?! Ned! Answer me!

  Chapter 38

  I can tell he’s in incredible pain. He’s moaning in agony, maybe going into shock. Every instinct tells me to stop the car and help my husband before he bleeds to death.

  But I know if I do, we’ll both die.

  “It’ll be okay, Ned! It’s going to be okay!”

  I lean over and grip the wheel so we don’t crash.

  Vince’s car pulls up next to us on the driver’s side.

  He rolls down his right window. And aims his gun at us.

  Drenched in my husband’s blood, my heart racing, I get one final crazy idea. I pray to God it works. I let Vince’s car get a little closer…

  Then I jerk the steering wheel to the left as hard as I can.

  We crash into each other and we both go spinning like tops.

  I hear metal crunching. Tires squealing. Glass shattering.

  Ned and I are tossed around until finally our car comes to a stop. I feel dizzy and dazed. My whole body aches, head to toe. But I’m alive.

  Is Ned?

  I reach over and take my husband’s bloody hand. I give it a squeeze.

  A few seconds go by. The longest in my life.

  Then, weakly, Ned squeezes back.

  Thank God!

  I hear police sirens in the distance. I look out through my shattered window. Vince’s car has rolled onto its side.

  And Vince himself is slumped in the driver’s seat. Not moving.

  Am I in shock? I must be. Because I am about to do something crazy.

  I push open my mashed car door and stagger out. Slowly, I start walking toward Vince.

  Because there is something I need to ask him.

  Chapter 39

  A half hour later.

  Ned is on a gurney. He is connected to tubes, with a mask over his face. Heavy bandages are wrapped around his shoulder. He is still bleeding, slipping in and out of consciousness…but alive.

  I am on a gurney as well, lying quietly, a little woozy. They have given me a shot of something to stop the pain in my arm. My injuries are not life-threatening, they say.

  So for the moment, all the available EMTs are surrounding Vince’s Honda. It barely resembles a car at this point. They have been using a crowbar and a blowtorch to crack it open and get him out. I hear voices, noises, the whir of machines.

  Vince is hanging upside down in his seat, still unconscious. The way he was when I first wandered over. He hasn’t moved since his car rolled over onto its side.

  Finally, the last piece of his car door crashes to the ground. They lift him out and put him on a third gurney. There is blood in his hair, on his face. Blood is seeping from his ear. But then I see his lips move.

  That means he’s alive. Am I glad? Am I sorry?

  No need to think about that now. I will have a long time—the rest of my life—to decide.


  As I lie there, bits and pieces of the past few months with Vince float by me. The fancy French restaurant. Our first kiss. I can see where she gets it from. Darcy’s early warning.

  I think about that old parable of the man eating the apple. It is delicious—the best apple he’s ever had. But just as he reaches the center, he finds a worm. Does this mean the apple wasn’t wonderful? Does it negate every delicious bite that brought him joy up till then?

  My family life is shattered. The two men I cared most about in the world lie broken and bleeding.

  My life, with Vince in it, tasted wonderful.

  But there is something I still need to ask him. Something I need to know, before I can ever move on.

  Chapter 40

  Agent Witten was right. The surveillance tapes clearly showed Joey delivering drugs. So he agreed to testify against Vince. As a minor with a clean record and no “priors,” Joey was given six months’ probation, and was required to do community service for a year. The good news: he seems to enjoy it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he winds up being a social worker someday. Well, maybe.

  Jake never wrote fake prescriptions. He gave Vince blank pads, so his sentence was reduced to a misdemeanor. He lost his license for three years, and there’s no guarantee the hospital will take him back. Darcy hasn’t talked to me for quite a while. She still blames me for everything that happened with Vince. We’re trying to ease our way back into some semblance of a friendship. But it will take time.

  Vinny was sent to live with his mother. It turns out Vince had abducted the boy on one of his alternate custody weekends. The heartbroken mother had been searching for him all that time.

  Ned was tried and convicted of laundering the proceeds from controlled substances—a Class B felony. He got two years in prison, plus a huge fine that wiped out most of our Roth IRA.

  Vince’s old house—the house next door—was sold to a young venture-capital couple who tore it down and are building a McMansion. I would be pleased by this, and what it does to real estate values, except I don’t live there anymore. Once Ned was indicted, he lost his job at Reinhart. We sold the house soon after. No regrets there.