Free Cape Fear by John D. MacDonald Page A

from that into life imprisonment at hard labor. And that is a brutalizing environment. I suppose he couldn’t think of it as a reward for services rendered. So there had to be somebody to blame. And he couldn’t blame himself. I became the symbol. He doesn’t see me. He doesn’tsee Sam Bowden, lawyer, home owner, family type. He sees the lieutenant, the young J.A.G. full of puritanical righteousness who ruined his life. And I wish I could be one of your hundred per cent heroes about it. I wish I didn’t have a mind full of reservations and rationalizations.”
    “In our psychology class Mr. Proctor told us that all mental illness is a condition where the individual can’t make a rational interpretation of reality. I had to memorize that. So if Mr. Cady can’t be rational …”
    “I believe he’s mentally sick.”
    “Then shouldn’t he be treated?”
    “The law in this state is designed to protect people from being wrongly committed. A close relative can sign commitment papers which will put a person away for a period of observation, usually sixty days. Or, if a person commits an act of violence or, in public, acts in an irrational manner, he can be committed on the basis of the testimony of the law officers who witness the violence or irrationality. There’s no other way.”
    She turned and ran her fingers along the sanded side of the hull. “So there isn’t much to do.”
    “I would appreciate it if you’d break your date tonight. I’m not ordering you to. You would probably be safe, but we wouldn’t know if you were safe.”
    She thought it over, frowning. “I’ll stay home.”
    “I guess we can break out the paint.”
    “All right. Are you going to tell Mother about this?”
    “Yes. She has the right to know everything that happens.”
    Tommy Kent appeared a few minutes before Carol and the boys came back. He was a rangy, good-looking boy, polite,amusing and just deferential enough. He was given a brush. He and Nancy painted in the same area of the hull, each objecting to the other’s sloppy work. Sam was glad to see how she handled him. No melting looks. No tinges of adoration. She was brusque with him, fencing with him with pert confidence and the sure-footedness of self-respect, quietly aware of her own attractiveness. Sam was surprised that her young weapons were so professionally edged and were wielded with such an air of long practice. She treated him like a slightly incompetent elder brother, which was, of course, precisely the correct tactics with a school wheel like Tommy Kent. Sam, giving them sidelong glances from his painting position near the bow, could detect only one flaw in her utter naturalness. She took no pose or attitude that was in any way ungainly or awkward. She was as careful as if she were dancing. He heard her break the date. She was just sufficiently apologetic to avoid being rude. And just vague enough to awaken suspicion and jealousy. Sam saw the black scowl on Tommy’s face when Nancy turned away from him, and thought, Young man, she just sank the hook. She’s keeping the rod tip up, and she’s got the drag set perfectly. And when the time comes, she’s going to be just as expert with the net, and you will flap in the bottom of the boat, eyes rolling and gill covers trembling. Pike Foster never had a chance, and now she’s ready for bigger game.
    After Carol arrived and made Nancy take time off for her sandwich and tea, and the four young ones were busily painting, Sam bought two beers and took Carol down to one of Jake’s sagging docks and sat beside her, feet dangling just above the water. There he told her about Max Cady.
    “Here!” she said, her eyes wide and round. “Right here?”
    “Right here, watching Nancy, when I got back. And when I looked at Nancy I seemed to see her the way he was seeing her and she’d never looked more undressed, even in that bikini thing you let her wear only when we’re on the island without guests.”
    She closed her