Wendell started to laugh. “You hear that, Dougie? Now he’s telling us what we can and cannot call members of our own family?”
May had arrived. She looked at me first, shook her head in frustration. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Leave these people alone,” she told the two young men. She placed her hands on her son’s shoulders. “You go back to the house,” she said.
He twisted away. “In a minute,” he said.
“We’re kind of in the middle of something here, May,” Dougie said, grinning.
“Yeah,” said Wendell. “This boy here,” and he tapped Lawrence’s chest with his index finger, “is giving us a bit of atti—”
Lawrence’s arm came up and he took hold of Wendell’s finger, and in a move that Lawrence made look effortless, had Wendell twisting backwards and sideways, and then heading straight to the ground.
“Owwww!” Wendell said. “Jesus! You’re breaking my fucking finger!”
Dougie stood, openmouthed, watching the attack on his brother unfold. May took a step back, but Jeffrey stood transfixed.
In a second, Wendell was flat on his back, wailing about his finger, and then Lawrence had his foot on the man’s neck.
“Apologize to the boy,” Lawrence said. He wasn’t even winded. I, however, was breathing rapidly.
Wendell coughed, tried to catch his breath.
“I asked you to do something,” Lawrence said.
“Get your foot off my neck, man! Jesus, Dougie, do something!”
Dougie rushed Lawrence. The detective took his foot off Wendell’s neck long enough to use Dougie’s forward momentum against him, stepping into his stride and tossing him over his hip. Dougie hit the ground with a thud, and as Wendell turned his head to see where he’d landed, he found Lawrence’s foot bearing down on his neck again.
Lawrence increased the pressure on Wendell’s neck, ever so slightly. “Apologize to the boy.”
Wendell coughed. “I’m sorry, Jeffrey.”
The boy turned and ran.
Dougie was struggling to his feet, dusting himself off. Lawrence took his foot off Wendell and stepped back. Wendell sat up, rubbed his neck with his hand, and slowly got to his feet.
“Get lost,” Lawrence said.
They both turned and started shuffling back toward their farmhouse. May looked at us, shocked, but for a second, I thought I saw her dead eyes sparkle.
“I’m sorry about them,” she said. To Lawrence, she said, “Thank you for standing up for my son.” She turned and started back to the farmhouse.
“Well,” I said. “That was just great. Be interesting to see Timmy’s reaction. I’m guessing we’ve got about an hour left to live.”
27
LAWRENCE PATTED ME on the shoulder. “Everything’ll be fine,” he said. “You worry too much about things.”
“Oh,” I said. “You noticed. You think those bozos aren’t going to run right back and tell their step-daddy what happened? You think there won’t be some fallout from that?”
Another pat. “Maybe. Maybe not. And if there is, maybe that’ll be a good thing. It’s like shaking the trees.”
I was less sure. I was okay with doing things to the Wickenses that they didn’t find out about, but beating the snot out of two of them, that was kind of out in the open.
Lana popped her head out of cabin 1 again. “Zack? You wanna come over? Orville just called and said he’ll be out in a few minutes.”
Lawrence said quietly, “You go have fun. It’s still a few hours till it’s dark, can’t start watching the Wickens place till then anyway.”
So I went over to Dad’s cabin, Lana Gantry still holding the door open for me, and stepped inside. Dad was at the kitchen table, Leonard’s backpack in front of him.
“Guess I owe you an apology,” he said.
Well, I thought, at least we’re getting off on the right foot.
He held up one of the cans of bear spray we’d bought in town back on Tuesday. “I’d offered one of these to Leonard and figured he hadn’t taken it, but it was right here in his backpack. You know how I blamed you, said he’d left himself undefended because you’d convinced him there was no need to take this along?”
Slowly, I said, “Yeah.”
“Well, turns out he had it after all, tucked in here. Musta never had a chance to get it out when he got surprised by that bear.”
“I guess,” I said. “Can I have that?” I was thinking ahead, to the hours I would be spending sitting in the woods at night with Lawrence. A can of bear spray might be handy to have along.
Dad handed it over, and I left it on the kitchen counter right by the door so I’d remember to take it when I left.
“Sit down,” Dad said.
“Yes, please,” said Lana. “I’ve made some coffee.”
I sat down.
“This is, uh, this is kind of hard for me,” Dad said. “Telling you what I’m about to tell you.”
Lana put cups and cream and sugar and a pot full of coffee on the table.