"Mary Rickert - Don't ask" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rickert Mary)

Well, what were we going to do? Consult more therapists with their
various opinions and modalities? Call the Sheriff who did everything he
could to help us find our sons though none of it was enough and they came
home only after a freak series of events? Pray, as we did for all those
nights and all those days and all those hours upon minutes upon seconds
when our sons were being torn apart? Or pay this little Goldilocks person to
rid us of the danger that resided amongst us?

We pay her, of course.

****
 He lives in a shack at the edge of town and he does not expect our
arrival, though certainly he sees all our cars coming up the long deserted
road, headlights illuminating the taloned branches of trees and the swollen
breasts of snow. Certainly he hears the car doors open and shut. We stand
there whispering in the dark, observe the light go on in the small upstairs
window and observe it go out again. We suspect he is watching us through
the web of old lace curtain there. We feel horrible, just terrible about what
we have come to do but we donтАЩt even consider not doing it. At last he
opens his front door. He is wearing plaid flannel pajamas, boots, and that
old jean jacket again, which, later, some of us recall, was the coat his
parents bought him when he first came back, all those years ago. тАЬWhatтАЩs
up?тАЭ he says.

We donтАЩt look at each other, embarrassed, and then at last someone
says, тАЬSorry, Jamie, but youтАЩve got to come.тАЭ

He nods, slowly. He turns to look back into his house, as though
fondly, though later, when we went in there, we all agreed it was nothing to
feel sentimental about, a beat-up couch, an ancient TV, a three-legged
kitchen table, and, both disturbing and proof of our right course, enormous
stacks of childrenтАЩs books, fairy tales, and comics. To think he wanted us to
send our boys here!

He shuts the door gently, thrusts his hands into his pockets, sniffs
loudly. He works his mouth in an odd manner, the way boys do when they
are trying not to cry.

He walked right to us, as though he had no say in the matter, as
though he could not run, or shout, or lock himself in the house, he came to
us like a friendly dog to kibble, like a child to sugar, he came to us as
though there was no other possible destination. He didnтАЩt ask why or protest
in any way. It was so strange. So inhuman.

She was giggling when she told us how to do it, as though it were all
just a joke, but she was also counting a big stack of money at the time.
тАЬHow you catch a wolf is you catch the man. This is something the French
knew. You donтАЩt have to wait until he turns and his teeth are sharp and he
has claws.тАЭ