While Paul stares at me in confusion, I reach across the hardwood with my shoe and slide Max’s pant leg up over the nylon holster. Paul looks disinterested at first. Then his eyes narrow, and he pulls the gun from the holster.
“This is mine,” he mumbles. “My compact Springfield.”
“Did you lend it to him?”
Paul hesitates, then shakes his head. “It was in my desk at home. It was there last night. This morning, too. He . . . he must have stopped on his way into town and grabbed it.”
“If the guy he paid drove him fast enough when he followed you from Jackson, he just had time.”
“This is too crazy, man. This is wack.”
“This is Max. Remember when he asked you to walk over to him so that he could whisper something to you? He tried it twice. Twice. The second time he asked you to go out on the patio. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t know what.”
“No.”
“You know I’m right. To fit his narrative, he needed a contact head shot. A contact wound with your gun. One that would look like suicide.”
“But . . . why kill me first?”
“Seriously? You were the only real threat to him in here. He’d have shot us right after he shot you. But when he talked to the cops, he’d have told it in reverse. I followed Paul out there, worried sick. I heard two shots and busted in. I saw Jet and Marshall dead, and Paul turned the gun on himself before I could stop him.”
Paul blinks like a man struck with a club. “You really think he would have killed us all?”
“It’s the only way he could get custody of Kevin. Last night he tried to talk Jet into leaving you. He had some crazy plan to move you to Atlanta or Dallas, offer you a lot of money. But Jet refused. No threat would make her screw you over like that.” I turn back to her. “Tell him.”
“It’s true,” she says in a ragged voice. “He’d lost his mind. He said he was going to cut you out of his will if you didn’t get out of his way. He tried to rape me last night, I swear to God. That’s why I hit him with the hammer.”
“Don’t talk to me,” Paul says sharply. “Don’t say one damn word.”
Paul looks down at his father again.
What can he be feeling? I spent most of my life believing that my father wished I’d drowned instead of my brother. What can it feel like to know your father would disown you—even kill you—so that he could take your wife and child for his own?
Paul raises his head and turns until he can see Jet. His eyes are filled with what looks like Puritanical judgment. “Pop was right,” he says. “This is your doing. All of it. You poisoned this family with your lies and betrayal. You seduced him. You wanted a kid by him. Then you brought Marshall here to take you away from the lie you made us all live.”
“Paul, listen,” she says in a quavering voice. “I’m not sure who fathered Kevin. Okay? You were with me three times that month. I never saw any DNA test report, and I don’t want to see one. Our job is to make sure our son never questions who his father is. He’s ours, okay? Yours and mine.”
Paul gets slowly to his feet, and for a moment I think she’s gotten through to him. Then he raises his gun and aims at her midsection.
“That’s what you say now. But you’d say anything to get out of this room. You could always talk circles around me. But not tonight. Pop showed you for what you are. A liar. And a whore.”
Jet recoils as though struck. Then she takes a step toward Paul and says, “A whore gets paid for what she gives up. What did you pay me with? I never had a husband. I’ve had two little boys.”
With a long sliding step, I interpose myself between them, blocking Paul’s aim. He’s only ten feet from Jet, though, and he could still hit her almost anywhere with a snap shot. I hold out my arms, trying to make myself as wide a shield as possible.
Paul smiles strangely. “There you are, old friend—right where you’ve always been. Between us.”
“I can’t let you shoot her, man.”
He takes a step closer. “I don’t want to shoot you. You’re just another sucker like me. But I will. She’s not taking Kevin.”
“You’re not doing this for Kevin,” Jet says from behind me. “Have the guts to be honest, at least. You’re doing this because of what Max said. Your sense of ownership is offended. He got me pregnant when you couldn’t. You’re afraid he fucked me better than you. You think by shooting me you’ll stop that pain? You won’t.”
Jesus, would you shut up? I think in desperation. You’re committing suicide—
“You and Max were so blind,” she goes on. “You think Kevin loves baseball more than his mother? For God’s sake.”
“I know he loves you,” Paul says. “And I wish I didn’t have to do this. But it’s the only way I can stop you. As soon as the sun comes up tomorrow, you’ll be charting out your legal strategy to steal him from me. And if I’m not his biological father . . .”
Nearly paralyzed by futility, I experience a thunderclap of revelation. “Paul, wait, man. You’re missing the forest for the trees. Max is dead. You have his seat in the Poker Club now. You own the judges in this town. She can’t get Kevin from you. Think, man! Come on.”
For the first time since he got up, my words have struck home.
“But the DNA,” he reminds me. “There’s no way around that. Blood trumps all, like Max told me in the hospital. To get Kevin, I’ve got to be the only parent left. So nobody even raises the question.”
“And me?” I ask, stating the obvious. “Are you gonna kill me, too?”
When he averts his eyes, I realize the answer is yes. To get custody of Kevin, he will kill me. Maybe I should have let him kill himself after all—
“Not if you don’t make me,” he says, an offer of clemency in his eyes. “Why would you defend her now, anyway? After what we heard tonight? Christ, you heard what Pop said. How disgusting was that? She fucked him, and she loved it. She fucked us all, betrayed us all. She’s poison, man. End of story. Now step aside.”
“You make me sick,” Jet says from behind me. “Both of you. You say you love me? Love me. But tonight Max slandered me, and who did you believe? Him. A lying psycho, and you take his word over mine. If I didn’t know how badly Kevin needs me, I’d just as soon you shoot me.”
Paul is edging to his right, prepping for his shot. I move left with him, still using my body as a shield. My nerves are vibrating like I’ve taken hold of a live wire.
“Get out of my way, Goose,” he says. “Let me do it clean. No pain.”
Abject fear raises every hair on my body.
“Do it, Marshall,” Jet says in surrender. “Move clear.”
For a second I wonder if she means to shoot at Paul when I move. Surely she’s not that deluded, to think she’d have any chance of killing him first. “Jet—”
“There’s no use in you dying, too.” Nadine’s gun clatters to the floor. “He’s past all sense, all caring. He doesn’t see that by killing me, he’s killing himself. But this is where we are. And maybe I did bring us here. I just wanted love. You know? I wanted to be loved.”