“Tyler,” said Wendy, “what are you doing? Where did you get that?”
“Mother, will you stop talking to me like I’m twelve?” he said. “Now, everybody just sit down.”
He looked over at Diane and Kingsley where they stood leaning against the wall. He stared at them like nemeses he’d longed to see in person.
“You, come over here and sit down on the couch with Colton and Kathy.”
“Tyler, there’s something you need to know,” said Diane.
“Shut up. That’s the last time I’m going to tell you. Talk again and I’ll shoot you.” He waved the gun at her.
Diane and Kingsley walked to the couch and sat down, Kingsley by Colton, Diane between Kingsley and the arm of the sofa. Diane tracked Tyler as he walked back and forth between her and Samuel Carruthers. Were it not for Samuel in the line of fire, Diane would shoot him, or at least shoot his leg. It was against what she had been taught-go for the midsection. Psychologically, Diane had a hard time with killing someone. But she could. She had.
“Marsha, sit down,” he said, pointing the gun at Mrs. Carruthers, who shot daggers at him with her gaze as she took a seat.
“Mother, get that chair over there and sit in it. I’ll just stand over here. Now, I need to figure this out.” He wiped his hand over his forehead.
“Damn it, Colton, this would have been a lot easier if you had kept our bargain,” he said, turning the gun on his friend.
Colton held his hands in front of him. “Look, man, this is wrong. This isn’t you, Tyler.”
“It’s me, Colton. It’s me.” Tyler beat his chest with his free hand. “Get that through your thick head. This is me.”
“Tyler, honey,” said his mother, “stop this. You were so young at the time it all happened. This isn’t you.”
“Mother, will you please? What is it I have to say to get you to shut the fuck up, huh?”
His mother whimpered and covered her face with her hands. Diane wondered what the hell he was so intent on thinking through. Just how had he planned to get out of this?
Diane’s cell phone binged the tones telling her she had a text message. Tyler looked over at her.
“Gimme that,” he said.
As Diane removed the cell from her pocket she flipped it open and glanced at the message: ug srchd bts Cqns shrd n clst.
Tyler looked at the message. “What’s this?” he said. “What does this say?”
“Gotcha,” said Diane.
Diane saw it in his eyes before he raised his hand, the flare of anger, the emotional call to violent action. Her hand was still in her other pocket, on her gun. She aimed as accurately as she could under the circumstances, and shot through the jacket, hitting Tyler in the shin, shattering his tibia. Lucky shot. But then again, he was close. She was up and grabbed his gun as the others were still gasping. Tyler fell to the floor and held on to his leg, moaning.
“Tyler!” screamed his mother. “What did you do to him?”
“She shot him, you stupid bitch,” said Samuel Carruthers, jumping from his chair. He grabbed Tyler by his shirt and hit him across the face. “You piece of crap. You piece of waste.”
“Stop,” cried Wendy. She jumped up and grabbed Samuel around the waist. “Stop it. You’re a doctor; help him.”
Diane gave Tyler’s gun to Kingsley, took her phone, and started to dial the police.
“Stop right there. Just stop right there and put down that phone and those guns.”
They all jerked their heads up at the sound of the different voice. A man in his seventies stood in the doorway to the living room, well dressed in brown slacks and matching sport coat, and holding a Glock 9mm. Diane guessed this was Everett Walters. Well, great.
Everett Walters may have been in his seventies, but he apparently took his own advice about keeping in shape. He was well built and tanned. He appeared strong and his gun hand never wavered.
“You, Samuel, get off my boy and wrap up his leg. Ty, wipe the blood and snot off your face and stop whining.”
He looked at Diane. She expected his eyes to be the color of his sister’s, but they weren’t. They were a lighter blue, piercing, cold. She didn’t look away.
“You,” he said, gesturing his gun at Diane, “put your gun down on the table over there. You do the same,” he told Kingsley.
The two of them laid down their weapons beside Diane’s phone.
“Boy, didn’t you check them for guns?” he said.
Tyler said something that Diane didn’t understand. He was the kind of guy who was all bluster when he had the gun, but reverted back to being a child when someone took it away from him.
“Everett,” said Wendy, “they know.”
“Shut up, girl. They know nothing. It looks to me like the two of you came in and shot my boy here. That’s what I see. What this Nicholson boy said means nothing. Hell, he might have been in on it with Ryan Dance. They can’t prove anything. Everybody just keep your mouths shut and we’ll all get out of this. These two are a couple of thugs. That’s what we’ll tell the police. Who’s to say different?”
“Me,” said Marsha. “Your boy, as you call him, raped and killed my daughter.”
“Stupid woman, you’re not going to believe what Nicholson said? Sit down and listen. I’ll tell you how this is going to go down.”
Apparently he had been listening at the door, thought Diane. Tyler must have called him.
“Now, listen here,” said Samuel Carruthers. “Who the hell do you think you are, coming in here like this after what you’ve done?”
“I’m the guy with the gun. And I’ll always be the guy with the gun. Listen here. What they’ve said is a lie.”
“He admitted it,” said Samuel.
“Did not,” said Tyler.
“If you’ve finished tying up his leg, sit down,” said Everett Walters. “Everybody sit down or I start shooting, and fuck the consequences.”
Samuel had torn a piece off Tyler’s shirt and tied it around his leg. He tightened it so that Tyler yelped and he sat back down in the chair beside his wife. Diane didn’t think he really did much in the way of tending to the wound.
“We might just have a home invasion. Those are going around.” Everett grinned at Diane with nicotine-stained teeth.
“Apparently,” Diane said. “Sometimes, though, it doesn’t play out the way you expect. You’ve made some assumptions that aren’t supported by the facts. Now, you can tell me to shut up, like Tyler did. But I’m the one with the knowledge of all the crimes and what the police actually have. That’s why you sent the assassin to my house, isn’t it? To kill the person who could make the connection.”
Diane heard someone suck in a breath.
“Everett,” said Wendy, “this has gone too far. Look what you’ve done to my son. Don’t you have any conscience?”
“Shut up, woman.” He didn’t even look at her when he spoke, but stared at Diane.
“She got a text message on her phone,” said Tyler. His face was streaked with blood and tears, even though he made an effort to wipe it with his sleeve.
“Text message? Is that something we should be concerned about?” said Everett.
“There is so much you don’t know,” said Diane. “Yes, it is something you should be concerned about. But first, you need to tell Tyler how you played him. Tell him the truth… that he didn’t kill Ellie Rose.”