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“Fabulous,” Agnes said, and then yelled, “Doyle, get back here!” as the handyman walked across the remaining support beam of the bridge.
“Where the hell is—” Four Wheels bellowed. “Where the— Where is—” He kept stalling out, his brain refusing to get in gear. Agnes saw him look up into Doyle’s face and blink. “Who?”
Doyle grabbed the old man’s overalls in one meaty fist and hauled him upright, pointing the sprayer at him. “Where’s what, boyo?”
Four Wheels seemed to gain some degree of sobriety as he lost the flow of oxygen to his brain, and he grabbed a shotgun from inside the door and swung it into Doyle’s groin. The Irishman grunted and dropped the old crook and the sprayer, and Four Wheels shoved him hard, toppling him past the smashed bridge and into the inlet. Agnes yelled, “Doyle,” and ran for the cut just as Brenda turned her big car in a wide loop and pointed it at them.
Four Wheels spun about, shotgun in hand, screaming, “Who the fuck is Agnes?”
Agnes reached the muddy inlet and looked down to see Doyle trying to climb up the side, still gasping from the blow to the groin. “Stay there, Doyle,” Agnes said. “He’s got a gun.” Four Wheels shifted the large double muzzle so it was pointing down at Doyle. “Try it, you dumb mick. I’ll blow your ugly mug right off.”
Doyle stopped, breathing hard, his nostrils flaring in anger, but he smartly took several steps back down into the cut. Agnes saw Brenda’s car creep a little closer and then stop again, about forty feet away, Brenda invisible behind her tinted glass, probably praying that Four Wheels would pick off Agnes.
Oh, hell, Agnes thought, realizing for the first time that this could be her plan. She might even have sent the old drunk to Two Rivers, and if she had, she was going to be sorry, the dumb bitch?—
Oh, shut up and be smart, Agnes. You’ve wasted enough time swaggering around stupid.
Dr. Garvin?
Four Wheels straightened and looked at her and then slowly brought the shotgun up and pointed it at her. Calm and smart, Agnes. Think.
“Hi,” Agnes said to Four Wheels. “I’m Lisa Livia Fortunato.” The sound of wheels on the dirt road made them both look around, and she saw Shane’s truck coming down the lane. She heard footfalls behind her and looked over her shoulder and saw Carpenter running across the lawn toward her. Okay, better odds.
The relief was gone as the shotgun swung back toward her. “You ain’t Lisa Livia. You’re that Agnes. I seen your picture in the paper.”
“Uh ...”
“You killed my grandson.”
“No, I didn’t. He fell.” Agnes took a step closer. “It was an accident, I swear. I’m really sorry for your loss.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Doyle start to climb up the bank toward Four Wheels.
“Bullshit.” Four Wheels twisted his head as he heard Shane’s truck stop.
Shane opened the driver’s door and got out, gun pointed at Four Wheels. Joey got out of the passenger side, gun pointed at Four Wheels. Carpenter was at Agnes’s side, gun pointed at Four Wheels.
Agnes looked at Four Wheels and wondered if he was in any condition to gauge odds.
Carpenter put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her back.
“What the hell are you doing here, Joey?” Four Wheels called out.
“You leave my little Agnes alone,” Joey yelled. He was moving to Four Wheels’s right while Shane was moving to the left and toward them. And Doyle was taking another shuffling step up the embankment.
Four Wheels staggered slightly, the muzzle of the shotgun wavering. He got a tighter grip on his cane as his head swiveled, back and forth, trying to keep track of everyone. “Everyone just fucking stay still!”
“Ain’t gonna happen,” Joey said. “You got two shots, and I bet it’s just buckshot anyway. Then you’re done.”
“And you’ll never get the first one off.” Shane had his pistol up at eye level, aimed right at Four Wheels. The muzzle of his gun wasn’t wavering at all.
The old man was perspiring now, booze and sweat, his eyes wide. “I just want some answers. Where’s Three Wheels? What’d you do with him?”
“He’s fine,” Shane said, still heading her way. “Put the shotgun down and tell us why you sent him here with a gun.”
“I don’t have to tell you anything. Where’s my boy?” the old man yelled, and Agnes thought, Wait a minute, he’s got a right to know that.
“It’s all right,” she said, and took a step forward.
“Agnes,” Carpenter said, but she pushed his hand back and said, “Stay there, you’re scaring him,” and walked carefully across the remaining bridge support to Four Wheels.
