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
CHARLENE 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.