Curt started up the Jeep. “Rox wouldn’t let me leave her at home,” he said, rocketing down the road toward the highway.
“Yeah,” Roxanne said. “I was supposed to go to Padre for spring break, but I figured driving with Dad to pick up a -couple of fugitives from justice would be much more fun.”
Dekker smacked the back of her seat.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I meant ‘little lost lambs.’ Not fugitives.” She smiled back at me. She wore a lot of black eyeliner around eyes that were the same color as her dad’s. “We brought provisions,” she said, producing two bottles of water and a bag of Cheetos. I’d never actually eaten them, but I’d seen about a thousand commercials for them over the years. She passed the snacks back to us.
I opened my water bottle and drank it down without stopping. Dekker dug into the Cheetos. The bulldog leaned hard into me, and I rubbed his head. He made these funny wet grunting sounds and worked his jowls like he had something important to say but couldn’t quite get it out.
Dekker pointed at the lump of fur in his lap and said, “This is Bob. The bulldog is China Cat Sunflower.”
“After the Grateful Dead song,” Curt said over his shoulder.
Dekker smiled and shook his head.
“Okay,” Curt said. “Let’s have the story. Out with it, nephew. I want to know what I’m dealing with here.”
Dekker told him about Dad’s will and Randy King and Mr. Dooley. Roxanne kept interrupting until Dekker told her to shut up. She did, but she wasn’t happy about it. Throughout the story, she turned in her seat and gave me horrified looks. It took me a little while to understand that Roxanne was outraged on my behalf. Unlike Ashley, Roxanne was interested in what I had to say. I wondered what it would be like to have a friend like this.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Curt said. “Randy King? I don’t know if Dekker told you or not, but I grew up outside of Niobe, and I knew Randy. He’s about ten years younger than me, but he’s too old for you, girl. Is that even legal, or are you just pulling my lariat?”
“Her dad was—-no offense, Petty—-fucking crazy,” Dekker said.
Then he recounted how I’d kidnapped him—-although he didn’t use that word—-and about the bus station, and Ashley, and the cops. He left out the part about me pulling a gun on him. I wasn’t sure whether he was trying to spare me or himself.
“So what you stole from Dooley’s office should be yours anyway, right?” Roxanne said.
“Yes,” I said.
“Why didn’t your dad want you to have the photo album?” Curt asked. “Are there pictures of him in lingerie, or what?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “He always told me there weren’t any pictures. But I found a photo of my mom in a box and it led me to the album.”
“So you two can’t go to the cops until we get you a lawyer,” Curt said. “You want to get as far from Keith Dooley as possible. He and I went to school together in Niobe, so I’ve known him most of my life too. When my buddy Bill’s grandpa passed away, Dooley handled the estate. He handled it so much, in fact, nobody in the family got a dime.”
“That’s bullshit,” Dekker said.
“No, that’s a fact. Dooley sits on estates and says he can’t get in touch with any of the heirs, and his ‘expenses’ bleed off the money a little at a time until everything’s gone. So I’m telling you, if Dooley’s this interested in getting you to marry that guy, there’s some scratch in it for him. He wouldn’t have called the cops on you otherwise, not for going into his unlocked office to get a photo album and some letters.”
All this talking had the opposite effect on me that it usually had. I felt more relaxed than I had since this adventure began. I’d never been in a group discussion before, and it made me long for a real family of my own. These -people genuinely liked each other, listened to each other, respected each other. I yearned to be part of a family like this.
“So, my point is,” Curt said, “we gotta get you a decent lawyer.”
“I can’t afford one,” I said. “I’ve got twenty--four hundred dollars, but I have to live on that for as long as I can.”
“You’re in luck,” Curt said. “It so happens one of my best friends is a lawyer in Topeka. I’ll give him a call first thing.”
“Uncle George,” Roxanne said, fist in the air. She turned around in her seat and said, “When I was little I always used to tell -people he was my favorite uncle, which didn’t sit very well with the ones who were actually related to me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “I can’t pay him.”
“You won’t have to,” Curt said. “George owes me big--time. Even if he didn’t, he’d take your case. That’s the kind of guy he is.”
I didn’t believe a lawyer who’d never met me would take my case for free, but I didn’t say so.
“He really is,” Roxanne said, as if reading my mind.
“You were going to ride the bus to Detroit,” Curt said, changing the subject. “Why Detroit?”
“That’s where my parents were from,” I said. “I want to find out about my mom. I have this weird feeling that—-” I stopped myself.