Linwood Barclay - Lone Wolf

“We had a lot in common,” Dad said. “Our spouses had a child together. Our spouses had both passed on. We both learned to forgive. And we were both looking for someone in our lives.”

“Jesus Christ,” Orville said. “This is just, this is too much to deal with.”

“And Orville here,” Dad said. “When I see him, I see your mother in him. And I think about how I still love her.”

I had to get up and walk around the room. I was having as much trouble taking it all in as Orville.

“Orville,” Lana said. “Orville. The thing is, Orville, you have a brother. A sister, too, Zack’s sister, Cindy. You and Zachary share a mother. You’re half brothers.”

Orville was on his feet now, too. He backed away from the table, shook his head again. His eyes went from Lana, then to Dad, and finally landed on me.

“All these years, never having a brother or a sister,” he said. “And so now, it turns out I actually have a big brother.”

I felt a lump in my throat.

“Imagine. All your life, you wish you had a brother, and then, you finally find out you’ve got one, and he’s the biggest asshole in the world.”

Orville turned and left.

Lawrence was just coming into the cabin as Orville stormed out to his patrol car. Lawrence caught the screen door before it slammed shut, then beckoned me with his index finger. I excused myself from the table.

“What is it?”

“Alice Holland called my cell,” he said. “It broke up a lot, the reception’s lousy up there, but her secret admirer got in touch again.”

“Did she say whether she recognized him?”

“She said we had to hear it for ourselves. She was sounding, I would have say to the word is ‘bemused.’ ”

“Bemused?”

“Bemused.”

“I’ll be out in a second,” I said.

Dad and Lana were sitting quietly at the table. She was on her second or third cigarette, and Dad had opened a bottle of red wine and filled to the rim a glass that once held peanut butter.

“Thanks for telling me,” I said. I looked at Dad. “I had it figured all wrong. I’m sorry.”

“I couldn’t have cared less if you thought less of me. I didn’t ever want you to think badly of your mother. But it was taking too much effort to keep this a secret any longer.”

“I’m gonna go,” Lana said. “I’ve got a feeling Orville will drop by later, to talk about this, and I want to be there in case he does.”

“Sure,” Dad said.

“I’ve gotta take off, too,” I said. “Lawrence and I have to go see the mayor.”

“Alice?” said Lana. “You say hi to her for me.”

I grabbed my jacket, and grabbed the can of bear spray by the door as I went out, slipping it into the inside pocket.

When I went outside, Lawrence was sitting in his Jag, the motor running. I got in, closed the door. We drove out to the highway, neither of us saying a word. Finally, Lawrence said, “So, what’s up with your brother? He didn’t look very happy at the news when he left.”

I almost smiled. “I feel a bit numb.”

Lawrence nodded slowly. “You gonna have to start sending Orville Christmas cards now?”

“I thought I had it all figured out,” I said. I filled Lawrence in. “I imagined Dad was this two-timing son of a bitch, but he’s not. In fact, I don’t know who the hell he is, exactly. I find out he’s not the bastard I suspected, and now I have to consider that he may be a better person than I ever realized.” I paused, thinking back. “He said to me a couple of days ago that he and Lana were a lot more forgiving than I’d ever know. Now I understand what he was talking about.”

“And Orville? His reaction?”

“He’s a bit disappointed to learn that his new big brother is a major asshole.”

Lawrence mulled that one over. “Yeah, that would be hard to take.”

We drove through Braynor, turned down the mayor’s road, and as we pulled up behind her house she opened the door. It was just getting toward dusk, and she flicked on the back light.

“Welcome back,” she said. “I hadn’t expected to call you quite so soon.”

George was pacing in the kitchen, his hands made into fists. When he saw us come in, he said, “Alice, we don’t even need their help now. We know who it is. I want him. I want to rip his fucking head off.”

“You know who it is?” I said.

“You’ve been so helpful,” she said to me and Lawrence, “that I thought you should have the opportunity to enjoy this. But I don’t know the first thing about this machine. Can you replay the calls?”

“Of course,” Lawrence said, and proceeded to work his magic with the device he’d hooked up to the Hollands’ phone by attaching it to a laptop. “This shows you’ve had three calls since we were here.”

“It’s the last one. The first was from the town clerk, the second a call from my daughter in Argentina. Play the third one.”

“Okay,” Lawrence said. “Here we go.” Everything was digital, with no actual tape to rewind, but Lawrence was still hitting Rewind and Play buttons on the laptop screen with his mouse.

Alice Holland: Hello?

Man: Mayor Holland?

Alice: Yes, this is the mayor.

Man: You haven’t got much time left to do the right thing. The parade’s only a few hours away.

Alice: Who is this?

Man: This is the voice of reason, bitch. Are you going to get those perverts out of the parade or not?

Alice: What if I don’t? What do you propose to do?

Lawrence nodded approvingly at the way Alice had kept her caller talking.

Man: Something awful might happen to you. Is that what you want? All so a bunch of queers can walk in the parade?

Alice: You know what? I’ll bet even the lesbians in that parade have more balls than a guy who phones people up anonymously and threatens them. Have you looked in your shorts lately? Is there anything down there at all?

Man: You bitch! How dare you-

Voice: (from afar) Hi, Mr. Henry!

Man: Shit! (hangs up)

Lawrence looked at me and I smiled. Lawrence smiled. Alice Holland smiled. Only her husband George still looked angry.

“Fuck me,” said Lawrence.

I said, “Now, is this where you use your years of police training and honing your deductive skills to try to figure out who the caller is?”

Now Alice was laughing, and Lawrence was starting to laugh. Even George was starting to loosen up, unclenching his fists.

The voice in the background had sounded like a teenage girl. Alice, imitating the voice, said, “Hi, Mr. Henry!”

Now I was starting to laugh, and pretty soon, all of us were clutching our stomachs, clutching the kitchen counter to keep from collapsing.

“Oh God,” said Alice. “This is too much.”

“I think I’ve figured it out,” Lawrence said, deadpan. “But I have to hear it one more time to be sure.”

He cued up the call again, played the last part of the exchange between Alice and the caller again.

“Hi, Mr. Henry!”

“Stop it,” I said. “I’m gonna die.”

Slowly, we all pulled ourselves together.

“Oh man,” said Alice. “Whoo.”

“Okay,” said George, who had completely regained his composure. “Now let’s go kill him.”

We took two cars. George Holland led the way in theirs, taking us back through Braynor, past Henry’s Grocery and the phone booth just down from it, then a left down a street of boring, boxy brick houses that were probably built in the sixties. George put on his blinker and turned into the driveway of a two-story red brick house, blocking in a black Ford Taurus sedan. Lawrence pulled over onto the shoulder and we all got out.

As we walked up the drive, Lawrence, small briefcase in hand, glanced into the back windows of the Taurus and said, “Hello.”