He chuckled again.
“Why is it your wife doesn’t know about Angelina?” I asked. “How can that be? What is your game?”
“Kellie?” He sounded genuinely surprised. “Kellie knows all about our granddaughter. She’s been working for a month getting the baby’s room ready.”
“You’re lying again. Melissa ran into her, and your wife didn’t know a thing she was talking about.”
Moreland sighed. “Mr. McGuane, I know this is tough on you. But it doesn’t need to be so tough. My offer still stands. I’m more than willing to help you and your wife adopt another child. I’m surprised you’ve waited this long, actually. The sooner we can get the proceedings under way the sooner you can have a new baby.”
“What is your game?” I said, nearly shouting. “What is it?”
“There’s no game. I explained everything to you. My son needs to be accountable. Simple as that.”
“I think you know everything your son is involved in,” I said. “You two have some kind of unholy alliance.”
“Oh please.” Moreland sounded genuinely ticked off. “I’m beginning to think I made a mistake giving you and your wife so much time. It’s given you weeks to martyr yourselves, and you’ve started to see conspiracies everywhere. I thought you were better than this, frankly.”
“You’re trying to steal our daughter!” I shouted. “Jesus, did you think we’d just let you?”
“You mean Garrett’s daughter and my granddaughter,” Moreland said wearily. “I’m afraid we’ve had this discussion before.”
“Are you going to tell me you don’t know your son is involved with Mexican gangs? With Sur-13?”
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Mr. McGuane.”
“Deny, deny, deny,” I said. “Where does the truth fit in all of this, or is that something you don’t worry about anymore? Are you so used to handing down judgments that are obeyed that you think you’re a god? That what ever you say just is?”
“You’re embarrassing yourself, Mr. McGuane. And it’s a pathetic thing to hear.”
I paused. I was shaking. I could tell by his voice that he was going to hang up at any second. I wished I could be more coherent.
“Have your son sign the papers,” I said, “so nothing else will happen.”
His voice was maddeningly firm and reasonable. “Please think about what you’re saying. Are you threatening me? Are you really threatening a sitting federal district court judge? I think we should both just pretend that you didn’t just say that, Mr. McGuane, or otherwise you could be charged with a federal crime. Not that I’m threatening you- I’m not. I’m informing you. You don’t know what you’re saying. We can chalk it up to inexperience and runaway emotion.”
“What are you hiding?” I said.
“This conversation is coming to a close, I’m afraid.”
“What is it?”
“Goodbye, Mr. McGuane.”
“Look,” I said, “I may just be a rube from Montana who is in over my head. But Melissa is the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met. She’s a fantastic mother, and she loves Angelina like no mother ever loved her child. You can’t take our daughter away. I won’t let it happen.”
“You have five days, Mr. McGuane. Use them wisely. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go to work.”
“Don’t hang up!”
“Goodbye.”
I DROVE TO SHELBY’S on 18th-the place Cody had taken me to-and pasted a fifty on the damp bar. “Keep ’em coming,” I told the bartender. “Don’t stop until this fifty is gone or I am.”
CODY FOUND ME at about the time the place was filling up with cops after their eight-to-four shift. He slugged me in the arm hard enough to nearly knock me off my stool.
“Fucking idiot,” he said. “Melissa’s worried to death. What’d you do, turn off your phone?”
I left it in the car, I tried to say, but the words came out as gibberish.
“I’ll give you a ride home,” he said. “We can come back and get your Jeep tomorrow.” He steered me out of the bar.
“You’re a good friend,” I said, but it came out “You a goo fran.”
“Shut up. We’ll grab some coffee on the way home.”
“Bourbon.”
“No bourbon.”
“My head is splitting open.” My hay ish…
We’d only been driving a short time when I gagged and belched.
“Not in my car, knucklehead,” Cody said, whipping off the highway onto an exit so I could climb halfway out the window and throw up. It burned like acid coming up. I think I might have hit some of his door.
“I been there,” he said, as I got back in and slumped in the seat. “It’s our own special corner of hell, ain’t it? But if anyone says it isn’t fun getting there, I know they’re lying because it is fun for a while.” Then: “Wipe your mouth.”
“I HAD A GOOD DAY,” Cody said.
I opened my eyes. It felt like I’d been sleeping for hours, but we were barely out of downtown.
“What?”
“I said I had a good day. A rare good day. With Brian’s call log. I think I’m getting somewhere.”
It took a moment to register.
“You need to quit feeling sorry for yourself,” he said. “You have to be alert and strong for Melissa these next few days. I hope you got this out of your system.”
I nodded, afraid to talk and sound stupid.
“I take that as a yes,” he said. “Now look, I’m going to have to be gone soon. I may be gone a couple of days, I’m not sure yet. But there’s something I need to follow up on, something in the call log. So if you and Melissa can’t find me, don’t worry. I’ll be back.”
I tried to talk. Couldn’t.
“Yeah, I know we’re running out of time,” he said.
“SEE YOUR NEW FRIEND?” Cody asked as we drove down my street. I looked out the passenger window and saw three sheriff’s cars parked across from our house, each stacked on top of the other. No, not three. As I focused it turned out to be just one.
“They’re making sure you and Melissa don’t take the baby and try to make a run for it. He’s been there all afternoon. Hey, did you do something today to piss off the judge?”
“Yes.”
“Thought so. He’s calling in his chits with the sheriff.”
MELISSA MET ME AT THE DOOR. I would have felt better if she’d scolded me, laid into me right there. Lord knows I deserved it.
She helped me get my clothes off, helped me get into bed. The ceiling spun, and I ran to the bathroom. There was very little left to throw up. I took a shower and cleared my head a little, gargled and outright drank several gulps of the mouthwash.
I was in bed when Melissa brought Angelina in to kiss me good night.
“I’m sorry,” I said to both of them. “I’m so sorry.”
“Get some sleep,” Melissa said, taking Angelina to her bedroom.
THAT NIGHT, I had a dream. It was fused with alcohol. It was cinematic: A pair of headlights snapped on in a dark garage. The light filled with hundreds of large swirling moths. No, not moths-snowflakes. A deep-throated engine roared to life and the vehicle, its front grille looking like a mouthful of teeth, blasted out through a two-foot-high snowdrift. Snow exploded as the older-model pickup bucked drift after drift, going fast enough that it wouldn’t get bogged down in the heavy and deep blanket of white.
Finally, the pickup swung onto a two-lane ribbon of black highway that was glazed with ice. The full moon lit up the snow in the meadows and sheened the ice on the road, but the pickup didn’t slow down. Gradually, as the defroster cleared the windshield, I could see the driver.
He craned forward in his seat, leaning over the wheel. His eyes were dead as stones but there was a half smile on his face. On the seat of his truck was an arsenal of weapons: rifles, shotguns, Taser, bear spray, brass knuckles, leather saps, revolvers, semiautomatics.