The kitchen door kicked open, splinters sailed to the sink and across the hardwood floor.

“What the hell?” Starner said.

Lyle Dolan filled the doorway in filthy, unlaced work boots, jeans, a grease-stained T-shirt, and a frayed John Deere cap. His red-rimmed eyes bulged and his whiskered face contorted as he swung a baseball bat next to his leg, and then leveled the tip at Trudy.

“You get my kids and you get in the truck! You’re coming home now!”

Fortin’s pulse quickened. His gut tightened as he stood slowly, showing Lyle his open palms, positioning himself at the end of the bat to shield Trudy and the Starners.

“Take it easy, Lyle.”

He looked at Fortin, who was also in his thirties, about his height and size. Lyle inventoried his navy pants with a wide yellow seam stripe, his khaki shirt, and the blue armored vest, before stopping at the Smith & Wesson semi-automatic holstered in Fortin’s leather utility belt.

“I got no beef with you, Will. Get out of my way. This is between man and wife.”

“Lyle, I’d like you to put the bat down. Let’s talk about this.”

Lyle’s breathing quickened, making his face expand and contract. He was clinging by a thread to all that he’d had and all that he was. He ran the back of his hand across his mouth.

“She tries to hide my whiskey. She thought she got all my keys. Not my spares. She tries to control everything! Don’t you, Trudy?”

“Lyle, look at me,” Fortin said. “Look at me and put the bat down.”

“A man’s got to have some control. Right, Will?”

“That’s right, Lyle. So get control of yourself and put the bat down.”

Fortin inched toward Lyle, studying every movement. Drinking should slow his reaction time. Fortin was now four feet from him.

“I said come on, Trudy. We’re going home. Don’t make me beg. Because a man shouldn’t have to beg.”

Fortin continued moving closer. He could smell the alcohol on Lyle’s breath. He could feel the heat of his desperation and see his knuckles whiten on the bat.

“Get out of my goddamned face, Will! Because one way or another, I’m taking my wife and kids home with me!”

“Lyle, put the bat down.”

“Daddeeee!”

Lyle’s daughter, Daisy, had emerged from across the room hugging a stuffed teddy bear, distracting him. Fortin grabbed at the bat, but Lyle moved fast, drawing it back and swinging it at him. Fortin deflected the blow, attacking Lyle’s grip and sending the bat flying full-force into the Starners’ ceiling.

Trudy and Edna screamed but Daisy screamed loudest, a heart-wrenching child’s shriek of sheer terror.