Lone Wolf (25 page)

33

“I
FOUND HIM!”
Dougie told his mother and Timmy after he and Wendell had marched me back to the barn.

“I sent him right to you,” Wendell said. “I flushed the fucker out.”

“Yeah, well, I’m the one that actually got him, that’s all I’m saying. I’m not saying you didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Boys,” Charlene Wickens, who’d returned to the barn when she heard the commotion, said, “you’ve both done a very good job, and both deserve a lot of credit.”

The brothers smiled.

“Does anyone want ice cream?” she asked.

“Oh yeah, I’d love some ice cream,” Wendell said.

“Do we have chocolate sauce?” Dougie asked.

“I’m pretty sure we do,” Charlene said. “How about you, Timmy?”

Timmy, who had just closed the gate on a stall that contained me and Lawrence, said, “Maybe just a little. But no sauce. Just plain.”

Everyone was in a mood for celebrating. They had me, and they had Lawrence. And they had his gun, our cell phones for whatever they were worth out here, and our keys. After a minor setback, they were able to continue with their plans.

I was thinking of asking whether I could have a bowl of ice cream, but the fact was, I was just too scared shitless to crack wise.

Lawrence was sitting in the corner, his butt on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him, his back against the wall. “So,” he said to me, “I presume you’re here to rescue me.” Evidently Lawrence was not having the same problem.

“How badly did they hurt you?” I asked.

Lawrence shrugged. “I couldn’t ride a horse right now, but I’m okay. I’ve had worse. Pride’s a bit bent out of shape.”

“What were you thinking? Going it alone?”

He closed his eyes, shook his head sadly. “There’s a huge fucking bomb in that van, Zack. I didn’t feel we could afford to wait to bring in the troops. If it hadn’t been for Bonnie Parker there—”

“I was thinking more along the lines of Ma Barker.”

“Yeah, even better. If it hadn’t been for her unexpected arrival, things might be a bit different now. How about you? You okay?”

I nodded.

“Man, you stink,” I heard Dougie say to Wendell.

“I fell in something fucking awful,” Wendell said.

Charlene said, “I’ll get the ice cream ready.” She left the barn.

Timmy stood on the other side of the gate that closed off our stall, which at some time must have been home to a horse or cow or two. It wasn’t like we were in a prison cell—the stall wasn’t locked and the gate would have taken a second to climb over. But it wasn’t the sort of thing you could do without being noticed.

“So,” Timmy said. “You boys put a bit of a wrinkle into things there for a while.”

I took a couple of steps his way, but once I was within three feet of him he waved the shotgun over the top of the gate. “You just stay there.”

I stayed there.

But from where I stood I could see into the back of the van. There were no seats in it but the two front ones, and a large blue plastic drum sat in the middle, on the floor. Atop it was a black plastic device, about the size of a shoebox, and some wires. Beside the van, on the barn floor, were several emptied fertilizer bags and three red plastic gas cans.

Timmy smiled. “I see you admiring my handiwork.”

I swallowed. “I don’t know a lot about explosives, but that looks big.”

“Well, not as huge as some. We’re not trying to bring down the Alfred P. Murrah, but it’ll do.”

Lawrence slowly got to his feet, came up alongside me. “Looks like you did a pretty good job of it,” he said. “Clean, simple.”

Timmy nodded. “Thanks.”

“How many people you figure you’ll end up killing?”

Timmy’s lips puckered while he thought about it. “Don’t really know. But that’s not important. What’s important is the message.”

“And what,” Lawrence asked, “would that message be?”

“That this country has to get back on the right track. That we have to stomp out immorality. That we have to put an end to state interference. That we have to keep this country pure, and good, and not turn it over to a bunch of special interests, that’s what the fucking message is, my friend.”

“Okay,” said Lawrence. “For a while there, I thought maybe you all were just a bunch of nuts. But now I understand.”

“Lawrence,” I whispered.

“I wouldn’t expect you to get it, anyway,” Timmy said to Lawrence. “You’re as much a part of the problem as anyone. I don’t know why you people don’t just hurry up and kill each other off, either with guns or with your addiction to drugs, and be done with it. If it wasn’t for good, decent folks getting caught in the crossfire, it wouldn’t matter so much, but sometimes you people take your battles outside your own neighborhoods and innocent people get killed.”

“Yeah,” said Lawrence. “We’re a bit thoughtless that way.”

“So blowing up a parade, that’ll get your message across,” I said.

“The parade, the town hall, and the faggot float,” Timmy said.

Lawrence grinned, and then the grin turned into a low-level chuckle.

“What?” Timmy asked. “What’s so funny?”

“You don’t even know, do you?” Lawrence asked.

“Know what?”

“Your so-called faggot float is a total joke. Four people carrying a banner. Three guys, one girl, and she’s not even lesbian. She’s faking it.”

Timmy looked dismayed. “Are you serious?”

“Yup. Hardly worth the trouble, when you think about it.”

“I’m sure you’re wrong about this,” he said. “I’m sure it’s going to be bigger than that. It said in the paper. It said at least a dozen.”

“Hey, you can’t believe what you read in the papers,” I said. I figured I should know better than anyone here.

Lawrence said, “We saw Lethbridge today. Stuart Lethbridge. He wanted the right to be in the parade, and he got it, but he ain’t got much to put in it.”

“What’s the problem, Timmy?” Dougie said, approaching.

“Never mind,” he said, dismissing him. “Well, shit, it doesn’t matter anyway. It doesn’t make any difference.”

“How’s that?” I asked.

“Because the thing is, the mayor gave them the go-ahead, and that’s the thing we’re making a statement about. Even if they pulled out altogether, it wouldn’t matter. And there’s all the other things, about her own lifestyle, marrying outside her race, letting people do whatever the hell they please. That’s what’s wrong with the world now, you know. Life’s just one big party. Do whatever you want, sleep with whoever you want, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“So,” Lawrence said, “bombing whoever you want, that’s a solution?”

Timmy smiled at Lawrence, like the detective was a simple child. “You can’t change the world overnight, but every little bit helps. You bring awareness and enlightenment to people one person at a time.”

I said, “How about Morton Dewart? Did he like your brand of awareness and enlightenment?”

Timmy shook his head. “That was too bad.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It was just too bad, that’s all.”

“There was no bear, was there, Timmy?” I said. “That was all bullshit, wasn’t it?”

Timmy chuckled. “I thought it was, until one of your dad’s guests got killed by one.”

“But Morton. He didn’t meet up with any bear, did he? He had a run-in with Gristle and Bone.”

“Hey, Timmy,” said Wendell, his voice tinged with caution. “I don’t know if Mom wants you talking about that.”

“It’s okay, Wendell,” Timmy said. “It’s not going to make any difference.”

I felt a chill.

“So it
was
the dogs,” I said. For a fleeting second, I felt some sense of satisfaction. Then I reminded myself of my current situation, and got over it.

“Morton,” Timmy began slowly, “had become a bit of a problem. The boys and I, we thought, when May brought him up here, that maybe he was kind of on the same wavelength with us, you know? And so, slowly, we started taking him into our confidence, letting him know what we planned to do, because he was a bright boy. He’d taken electronics at college, knew lots of helpful stuff we thought we could use.” Timmy paused. “But it didn’t work out.”

“Two for two, huh, Timmy?” Dougie said, and laughed.

“What’s that mean?” I asked.

Before Timmy could respond, Dougie said, “May has kind of bad luck with men.”

I cocked my head. “May had a boyfriend before, who died in an accident.”

Timmy said, “She told you about that, did she?”

“Yes,” I said.

Timmy said, “I felt, we felt, that it was best for May to come home. To be with her family. With me, and Charlene and the boys. It’s a nasty world out there, and home, well, that’s the best place to be.” Timmy paused. “We just had to establish the right conditions that made it conducive for May to return to the fold.”

I wasn’t sure I was really hearing what I thought I was hearing.

“I’m not sure I’m following, Timmy,” I said. “What do you mean, establish the right conditions?”

“I got to drive,” Dougie said, beaming.

“You guys should really shut up, you know,” Wendell said.

“You ran him down?” I said to Dougie. “You ran down May’s other boyfriend? A hit-and-run?”

“But Timmy and Mom made the phone calls,” Dougie said. “They’re better at that sort of thing. But you put me behind the wheel, and I know what to do.”

“You made anonymous calls to May’s employers,” I said. “So she’d lose her jobs, one after another, run out of money, and have to come back here and live with you.”

“It had to be done,” Timmy said. “I was thinking of the boy. Of Jeffrey. It’s not right, him growing up in a world like that. He’s much better off with us. He’s a wonderful young lad. So the odd call here, suggesting May might have stolen from a company, or that she was giving secrets to competing firms, in the long run, it was to help Jeffrey. And her, too.”

“Is sending Jeffrey to his room without dinner helping him?” I asked. “Striking him with a belt? Is that helping him? And how about when he sees his own mother take a whipping from you? You think that’s going to make him into the kind of man you want him to be?”

Timmy’s eyes were full of fury and they bore into mine. “That’s the whole problem with the world today. Everyone’s afraid to discipline anymore. Kids need a firm hand. They
want
a firm hand. And it doesn’t stop when they get older. As long as they’re your own, you have a right to set them straight. I’ll bet your father never took a hand to you. I’ll bet you never got so much as a little pat on the ass, did you? And that’s why now you’re nothing but a big pussy, has to call a nigger up here to help you out. Imagine being that weak.”

I never broke his stare. I said, “So maybe all I can hope then is that Jeffrey grows up big and strong so that someday, he can get justice for his mother by taking care of you.”

And then Timmy spat at me. His spittle shot over the top of the gate fast as a bullet, landing on my right cheek just under my eye. I blinked, looked away, and used my sleeve to wipe it off.

I turned away, clenching my fists so tightly my nails left marks on my palms.

Lawrence, either to defuse the situation or get more information, or both, asked, “But what about Morton? What happened there?”

“You could tell,” Timmy said. “There were signs. He wasn’t with us. He wasn’t prepared to do what was necessary. He was talking about going back to the city, just for a visit, see his family, but it was pretty obvious to me that he was going to talk. He was going to tell the authorities. He was going to tell them about our revolution.”

A revolution. A bunch of nuts with a bomb and a van.

“So you decided to do something about it,” I said.

“The boys and I invited Morton to come along with us when we took the dogs for a late-night walk. I think he must have thought something was up, but he came along, and we talked about this and that, it didn’t really matter, because no matter what he told us then, we wouldn’t have believed it. He was going to leave. And he was probably going to take May and Jeffrey with him.” Timmy sighed. “No way I was going to allow that to happen.”

“Of course not,” Lawrence said.

“And so you took him into the woods,” I said, “and sicked the dogs on him.”

Timmy shrugged.

“What about the bear story?” I asked. “Where did that come from?”

“Well, once it was over, we started thinking, someone might come looking for him, or find him, which did happen the very next morning. And the first thing we thought of was the first thing everyone else thought of. That it had been a bear.”

“And you came up with that story about Morton seeing a bear, and going off after it.”

“We figured, if anyone came around asking questions, that was the story we’d stick with. And that’s what we told May and Jeffrey, too.”

I leaned up against the side of the pen, kicked at some old hay with my shoes. “Have you ever actually seen a bear around here, Timmy? Because you gave Orville and everyone a pretty good description of it.”

“Nope. There’s obviously some in these hills, but I’ve never laid eyes on one.” He smirked. “I guess that’s what you’d call ironic, huh? Considering.”

“So what’s your plan for us?” Lawrence asked. I wasn’t so sure I wanted the answer to that question. “You going to turn the dogs loose on us, blame it on a bear again?”

Timmy gave that some thought. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I think we’ll just shoot you.”

34

C
HARLENE RETURNED WITH ICE CREAM.
Three bowls of vanilla, two with chocolate syrup on top. She handed them out to Wendell, Dougie, and Timmy.

Dougie spooned into his, looked contemplative, and asked his mother, “Do we have any sprinkles?”

“I think so,” she said. “You want me to go get some?”

Timmy said, “Stop making your mother make so many trips. If you want sprinkles, go back and get them yourself.”

Dougie set his bowl just inside the back of the van, on the floor, and said, “I’m gonna get some.”

Timmy said, “You know what? I think I would like some chocolate sauce after all. Bring some back with you. The stuff in that little squeeze jar.” Dougie nodded and ran out of the barn.

I said, “What about Tiff Riley?”

“Huh?”

“The guy at the co-op,” I reminded him. “The one who was stabbed to death.”

Timmy’s eyes lit up. “What about him?”

“Did you kill him, too? You broke into the place to steal fertilizer and a barrel after hours, not expecting anyone to be there, and he got in the way. That about right, Timmy?”

“Wendell took care of that,” Timmy said. “It’s good to be giving the boys more responsibility. That’s what their mom wants. Although I have to tell you”—he leaned toward the gate conspiratorially—“I’m not so sure about Dougie. I want to give him a little more to do, but I don’t know that I’ll ever be convinced that he’s ready to handle the big stuff. But you can’t argue with his mother, you know what I mean?”

“You talking about me?” asked Wendell, leaning up against the far side of the van. I could hear him scraping the bowl with his spoon, trying to get the last of the syrup.

It must have occurred to me before this, at some subconscious level, but it wasn’t until this moment that it fully hit me.

This was an entire family of psychopaths.

Dougie had mowed down May’s previous boyfriend with a car. He and his brother and Timmy had set the dogs on her next boyfriend, Morton. Wendell had murdered Tiff Riley. They’d set a lawyer’s house on fire. Timmy had already indicated he was going to shoot me and Lawrence. They were preparing to set off a bomb in the middle of a small-town parade, an act that could kill any number of innocents. And all Charlene was worried about was that none of her men be hungry when they embarked on a killing spree. They were a family without a single conscience to share between themselves.

Except for May and, if it wasn’t too late, her son, Jeffrey.

Dougie reappeared with a small glass bottle, about the size of a salt shaker, filled with multicolored sprinkles. He grabbed his bowl and covered his ice cream liberally with the dessert garnish.

“Where’s my chocolate sauce?” Timmy asked.

Dougie winced. “Shit, sorry, I forgot.”

“Honest to fucking Christ, Dougie,” Timmy said.

“I can go back.”

“Never mind.”

“No, really, I can go back.”

“My ice cream’s almost totally melted anyway, so it’s not worth it,” Timmy said angrily. He shook his head in disgust.

“I’ll go get you some syrup,” Charlene said.

“I said it’s not worth it!” Timmy shouted. “If your stupid son could just remember one goddamn thing…”

“Don’t you talk about Dougie that way,” Charlene said. She had a tone, like she was giving her husband, the boy’s stepfather, a serious warning. “The reason he forgets things is because you pick on him and make him nervous.”

“Yeah, it’s all my fault.”

Dougie’s gaze moved between Timmy and his mother. He had a smudge of chocolate sauce, with sprinkles in it, on his chin.

Wendell said, “I think I’m gonna go get changed.” He left the barn, but was back only a few seconds later. “There’s a guy down by the gate,” he said worriedly.

“At this time of night?” Timmy said. “It’s got to be long after midnight, isn’t it?”

“Who is it?” Charlene asked.

“It looks like maybe he’s on crutches or something.”

Oh no.

“Crutches?” said Timmy, looking at me. “That must be Mr. Walker.”

“I’m sure he’s just getting some air,” I said. “He likes to walk at night.”

Timmy shook his head slowly. “A man on crutches doesn’t go out for a midnight stroll. My guess is he’s out looking for you.”

“I’m not lying,” I said. “He’s just looking at the stars, I’ll bet.”

Timmy gave Wendell a nod. “Get him.” Wendell grabbed his shotgun and slipped out the door.

“No!” I said. “Timmy, come on, leave him alone. He’s just an old guy.”

“If he’s looking for you, and can’t find you, then he goes back, starts making phone calls. That’s not good. Can’t have that.” Timmy suddenly looked very serious, as though something had just occurred to him.

“What?” I said. “What are you thinking?”

“It’s just…You see, you go missing, and your father comes looking for you. And now your father’s going to go missing, and who’s going to come looking for him?”

“No one,” I said.

“What about the people at the camp? How many people are staying in those cabins?”

“Everyone’s checked out,” I lied. “After our guest got killed running away from that bear, they all got spooked and went home.”

Timmy thought about that. “I don’t think I believe you.”

“It’s true,” Lawrence said. “I tried to talk a couple of them into staying, but they wouldn’t hear of it.”

Outside, in the distance, I could hear shouting, an argument. Gradually, the voices grew louder, more distinct, as they approached the barn.

“Jeez, old man, can you not move a little faster on those things?”

“Goddamn it, I’m going as fast as I can!”

Lawrence whispered to me, “We’ll figure a way out of this.”

“You have a plan?” I whispered back.

Lawrence said nothing.

Dad appeared first in the doorway, and one of his crutches got caught on the latch, sending him falling to the barn floor.

“Dad!” I said.

“Zachary?” he said, raising himself up and looking over at me through the slats of the stall gate.

“Dad, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.”

Wendell stepped in behind him, pointing the shotgun downwards, in Dad’s direction.

“Mr. Walker,” Timmy said, “you’ve had quite the week, haven’t you? A body found on your property three days ago, a guest killed by a bear today. It’s no wonder all your guests have packed their bags and taken off.”

“Huh?” said Dad. “Where’d you hear that?”

I looked down at the floor, shook my head. Lawrence laid a consoling hand on my back.

Timmy strolled back over to the gate and said to me, “This is becoming a much fucking bigger problem by the moment. How long before someone else comes looking for you or your friend or your father?”

“It’s late,” I said. “People are asleep. No one will be looking for us.”

The hell of it was, that was probably all too true. The Wrigleys were in their sixties and turned in early, and Bob was their age, too. Lana had gone back into town, figuring Orville might need to talk. And the next closest set of neighbors was probably half a mile away, at least.

“I don’t know whether we can take that chance,” Timmy said. “Wendell.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re going to have to go down to the cabins. Round up anyone staying in them, bring them all back here.”

“How many’s that?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Three, four, something like that.”

Three. Bob and Betty and Hank.

“Okay.”

“You need your brother?”

Dougie, wiping his chin with his shirttail, looked up.

“No, I think I can handle it,” Wendell said. “Long as I have this.” He waved the shotgun. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, and disappeared into the night.

So now Timmy was prepared to kill me and Lawrence, my father, Bob Spooner, and Betty and Hank Wrigley. There was no way he could leave any of us behind, not once he’d brought off his parade surprise.

Timmy went over to my father, put his hand under his arm, and hauled him over to the stall. “Stand back there,” he ordered me and Lawrence. “Dougie, cover them.”

Dougie grabbed a shotgun and held it on us as Timmy opened the gate and shoved my father in with us. His crutches were back on the floor where he’d fallen, and he limped over to us.

I hugged him.

“I was worried,” Dad said. “You’d been gone a long time.”

“Yeah, well, we’re sort of in a situation,” I said. “You hurt?”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Dad said.

“How’s your ankle?”

“Not too bad.” He glanced back into the open area of the barn, took in the van, the blue drum in the back, the device perched atop it. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked.

Lawrence and I both nodded.

“Timmy,” Lawrence said, “just where do you plan to be twenty-four hours from now?”

“Huh?”

“Tomorrow night. You’re not planning on still being here, are you? Living in this farmhouse?”

Charlene gave him a sly, questioning look. Dougie, not capable of that, just looked, as did Timmy.

“I mean, come on,” Lawrence said. “You’re going to kill all of us, kill God knows how many at the parade, you think people aren’t going to be looking for you? I don’t think something this big is going to be left for Chief Orville Thorne to figure out.” Lawrence glanced at me, did something with his eyebrows that seemed to say “No disrespect intended to your new stepbrother.”

Lawrence continued. “This county, this town, it’s going to be swarming with every law official imaginable, from Homeland Security to the Mounties. What happens when they find no one at Denny’s Cabins? No. One. Not even the owner. You think you can pretend not to know what happened to all of us? We’re just over the fucking hill.”

“Maybe,” said Charlene slowly, “I should start packing a few things.”

“Yeah,” Timmy agreed, nodding. “We might want to go away for a while.”

“A while?” said Lawrence. “How about forever? Don’t you have some like-minded brethren, committed to the same whacko causes, who’ll hide you for a while?”

“Jesus, Timmy,” said Dougie. “You don’t think we could get caught for this, do you?”

“Look,” Timmy said, working up some courage, “we do what we have to do. We’re fighting for ideals that are bigger than just us, okay? We’re sticking with this, we’re not going to turn back now. But yeah, Charlene, you might want to throw a few things together.”

“I want to take my Hot Wheels collection,” Dougie said.

“What’s going on?”

We all turned our attention to the open doorway. There stood Jeffrey, in slippers and a pair of striped pajamas, his hair all tousled.

“Why’s everybody out here?” he said. “What’s everybody doing?”

“Get back to bed!” Timmy shouted. That prompted Jeffrey to look over Timmy’s way, and then his eyes landed on me, and Lawrence, and Dad.

“What are they doing in there?” Jeffrey said. He smiled at Lawrence. “Hi,” he said, and made a small wave.

“Hi, Jeffrey,” Lawrence said. “How’s it going?”

“Okay,” he said, quietly. He could tell something was going on. Something bad. “Why are they all locked up?” he asked his grandfather.

“Jeffrey, go back to the house. Charlene, take him back to the house.”

“But I don’t get it. Why are they there? Did they try to steal something?”

Timmy pounced on that. “That’s right. They were trying to steal some tools. These are actually very bad men.”

“That’s not true, Jeffrey,” I said.

“Jeffrey?” It was May, just outside the barn. “Jeffrey, are you in there?”

The boy looked back as his mother, wearing a long pink housecoat, stepped inside. It took her a second to take in the scene. Dougie, Charlene, Timmy, the three of us in the stall. The white van in the middle of the barn.

“What the hell is going on here?” she asked.

Timmy said, “May, take your boy and put him to bed. You know he’s not ever supposed to be out here. You too, for that matter.”

Jeffrey said, “Grandpa, these aren’t bad men! They’re good men! Even that one!” He pointed at Lawrence.

Timmy shook his head in anger. “Jeffrey, I’ve had just about enough—”

“He was really nice to me! He isn’t mean like you!”

Timmy grabbed the boy by the arm and started shaking him. “Why, you little shit, I oughta—”

“Daddy!” May screamed. “Leave him alone!”

Jeffrey was leaning back, trying to break free of his grandfather, who was holding on to him with one hand and trying to swat his cheek with the other. Jeffrey was waving frantically with his free arm, working to deflect the blows.

May ran forward, grabbed her father, which allowed Jeffrey to wriggle free. Now Timmy had to wrestle with his daughter, whom he grabbed by the shoulders and flung to the barn floor.

“I hate you!” Jeffrey screamed at him, and burst into tears.

Timmy stood there, looking down at his daughter, wondering whether he should offer to help her up or not. May was looking from him to Jeffrey and, finally, to me. In addition to this domestic crisis she was having, she seemed to be trying to get her head around why the hell I was penned in with my father and Lawrence.

“Mr. Walker?” she said. I wasn’t sure whether she meant me or my father. She got to her feet, ignoring her father’s outstretched arm, and took three steps toward the stall. “Mr. Walker, what’s going on?” She was directing the question at me, not Dad.

I was thinking, the way things were going, that maybe May was our new last hope. That if she knew the truth, if she knew the extent of her father’s evil, maybe she could do something. That if she were presented with the truth, and could throw it back in Timmy’s face, maybe he’d reconsider what he was going to do.

I said, evenly, “Your father’s getting ready to kill us and a whole lot of other people, May, that’s what’s going on.”

“Shut up!” Timmy shouted at me. “May, get out of here!” He grabbed her by the shoulders and started turning her away.

“Don’t touch her!” Jeffrey shouted, still crying.

“Ask him about your boyfriends!” I shouted. “Ask him what happened to Morton, and Gary!”

May twisted out of her father’s grip, looked back at me. “What?”

“I told you to shut up,” Timmy said.

“What’s he talking about, my boyfriends?”