Linwood Barclay - Lone Wolf

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.”