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?”
“It’s not a coincidence,” I said. “First one gets hit by a car, then another gets killed in the woods.”
“Gary?” May said, looking at Timmy. “The hit-and-run?”
Timmy tried to adopt a gentler stance, reaching his hands out to May’s shoulders, but she took a step back. “Honey, you and Jeffrey need to go back to the house. We can talk about this later. We’ve all said a few things that we’re probably going to regret later. And we’re kind of busy out here, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Busy doing what? What have you been doing out here? You’ve been out here for days, working on something.” She caught a glimpse inside the van. “What’s all this?” She whirled around. “What was he talking about, my boyfriends?”
“He killed them both,” I said. “With help from Wendell and Dougie. And sabotaged your jobs with anonymous phone calls. So you’d have no choice but to come back home.”
May was stupefied. Jeffrey, who had stopped crying, was looking a bit baffled as well.
“That’s not true,” Timmy said softly. “You know I’d never do anything like that.”
May looked at her father as though seeing him for the first time. “You’re a monster,” she whispered. “I guess I’ve always known it, but I’ve never known until now just how big a monster you really are.”
She turned and reached out her hand to grab Jeffrey’s hand. She was about to exit the barn when Charlene stood in her path.
“What?” May said. “Get out of my way.”
Charlene looked over at Timmy, her look cold and dispassionate. Her eyes had no life in them.
Timmy shook his head slowly. “Son of a bitch.” He and Charlene looked into each other’s eyes, neither of them saying a word, but there was plenty of information being exchanged. They were making some hard decisions. Facing up to some cold realities.
“Jesus,” Timmy said, and shook his head again. “Charlene, put the two of them-Jesus H. Christ-put them in the pantry at the back of the house, I don’t know. Lock them in there, and we’ll sort this out later.”
“You’re going to lock up your own daughter?” May asked. “Your own grandson?” Then, screaming, “What are you! What the fuck are you?”
Charlene had the gun in her hand that she’d had earlier, and she nudged May with it. “Come on,” she said. “You and your boy, you got none of my blood, so pulling this trigger wouldn’t be all that hard for me.”
Timmy started to say something, then stopped himself.
Charlene motioned for May and Jeffrey to go through the door ahead of her. She gave May’s shoulder a shove on the way out.
A look of resignation had come over Timmy’s face. What chance did we have, I thought, if he was already considering the possibility of killing his own daughter and grandson?
“That was a stupid, stupid thing to do, telling her those things,” he said to me.
“She should know,” I said. “She should know just what kind of loving father she has.”
Timmy simmered, the air whistling in and out of nostrils.
“It’ll be easier when Wendell gets back here with the others,” he said, as much to himself as to me. “Then we can do everybody at once.”
35
I WANDERED TOWARD THE BACK CORNER of the stall, leaned my head in close to Lawrence’s.
“Wendell’s going to be back here any minute with Bob and Betty and Hank,” I said. “Then he’s going to kill the whole lot of us.”
“Yeah,” said Lawrence. “I’ve been following.”
“What if we hop the gate, rush Timmy, maybe one of us gets to a gun before Dougie does?”
Lawrence thought. “What about your bear spray?”
“Used up,” I said. “All gone.”
He sighed. “Rushing Timmy may be our only option. But I don’t think we’ll all survive it. He’ll get at least one of us before the other two can take him. And that’s only if Dougie’s slow off the mark.”
“I’ll go first,” said Dad, who had edged close enough to hear what we were talking about.
“No, Dad,” I said.
“Look, I’m the old guy, I’ve had a good run. Let me go first, and while he’s dealing with me, you two grab him.”
The thing was, even if I liked the idea, which I didn’t, it would take Dad, in his condition, so much longer to hop the gate that there wouldn’t be the slightest element of surprise.
“Something you’d like to share with the class?” Timmy said. We broke apart. “A little less chatter, okay?”
We said nothing. Timmy called Dougie over to the back of the van.
“Okay,” Timmy said. “I know the parade’s not till morning, but I want you in position early, before the sun comes up. You got to be somewhere that’s close to the parade route, and close to the town hall, because I want both of them taken out. You understand?”
“Sure, Timmy.”
“Good. Before you go, I’ll set the bomb so it’s ready to receive the signal from the remote detonator, so you won’t have to worry about doing that.”
“Okay. That’s good, because you’re better at that stuff than me.”
“No kidding,” Timmy said. Dougie’s brow furrowed, like maybe he was picking something up on his sarcasm detector.
“Now this,” Timmy said, holding up what looked like a walkie-talkie, with a short stubby antenna and a number
