“I’d guess nobody’s been in there for at least five years. The last time I could actually get in there to sleep was 2007. That’s where the bed is, archaeologically. Hey, if you’re gonna excavate, somewhere in there is this really sweet Dusty Rhodes action figure my uncle Alva gave me. I would love to get that back.”

Mansur turned and gave me a blank look.

“You know? Dusty Rhodes. The wrestler. The American Dream?” I said.

“I see.” I don’t think he did see, though. He went back to shining his flashlight into my room. “Which one was LaReigne’s room?”

“That one. She moved out in 2005, so Mom filled her room up first. I doubt there’s anything in there that’ll help you. Unless you think she was plotting to make bombs with white supremacists back in 2005. That’s why you’re here, right? You think LaReigne met up with these guys’ friends or something? You don’t see how stupid that is? Nobody comes here. Except me and LaReigne.”

“And your nephew and your boyfriend and—”

“He’s not my boyfriend, and yesterday was the first time he’d ever been in the house,” I snapped. “Look around. Do you really think terrorists could meet here and build bombs? God, I can’t even find a place to sit down when I come over. You did this to her.”

“I did this?”

“You cops, searching the house. That’s what fucked her up.”

“It certainly wasn’t us,” Smith said. He’d been lurking in the hallway behind us.

“Yeah, you’re so different from the marshals who searched it back then. What about after you’re done pawing through all her shit and swabbing it for whatever? You’re gonna leave it out on the lawn and it’ll be my problem how to get it back in the house.”

“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Maybe it’d be a good idea if you didn’t bring it back in here,” Smith said.

“Fuck you, you fucking judgmental motherfucker.”

I had totally lost it, like I had flames shooting out of my head. I turned around and walked toward the front door, the first time in years I’d been able to do it without climbing over a bunch of shit.

Mansur came after me and, as I was about to step outside, Officer Toby said, “Marshal, that other search warrant you’ve been waiting on just came.”

I knew what it would be, even before he said it. What else was there to search? They’d searched the apartment. They’d searched Mom’s house. Of course, my car was next.

“How long are you going to take it for?” I said, when Mansur asked for the keys.

“It won’t be too long.”

“A day? Two days? You know, I have things to take care of.”

“Let’s say two days. Max,” Mansur said. I put the keys in his hand and he passed them to the cop who’d brought the warrant. Just like that I was homeless, jobless, carless. Fucked.

I went outside and walked across the lawn to Emma and Mom. Emma had gotten Mom a bottle of water from somewhere, and when I reached them, she said, “Do you want some water, Zee? I’ve got more in my car.”

She put her hand on my arm, so I knew she wanted me to come with her, but she didn’t say anything until we got to her car. When she popped the trunk, this chill went down my back. Because they’d found LaReigne’s car, and now they’d found a body. For all I knew, it was LaReigne, and I could see it. I could imagine her dead and stuffed in the trunk of her own car.

Of course, all Emma had in her trunk was a case of bottled water and a roadside kit. She passed me a bottle and, when I reached for it, both our hands were unsteady.

“Can you do me a favor?” I said, trying to shake that chill.

“I only came because Aunt Dot sounded hysterical. She didn’t know where you were, and I didn’t want to leave her alone. That’s it. I can’t do anything for you. This is all too much.” Emma started crying, I guess because she was freaked out about the police. She said, “Please, don’t call me again. I won’t answer the next time. And please, don’t drag my mother into this.”

“Who’s dragging your mother into anything?” I squeezed the water bottle until the plastic crackled in my fist. It was weirdly satisfying and it made me feel less shaky.

“I just don’t want my mother getting upset. You know she’s not in good health,” Emma said. “I’m sorry, but we don’t want to be involved anymore. Nothing personal, but we don’t want to be part of the Trego family mess anymore. It’s too much.”

I didn’t believe Aunt Shelly’s health had anything to do with her not coming to see Mom. They hadn’t seen each other in years. They’d had a huge fight at Uncle Tim’s funeral, over some family heirlooms Mom thought she should have. They’d gone to Uncle Tim and, after he was dead, his wife, my aunt Shelly, refused to give them to Mom, because Emma had just as much right to them as me or LaReigne. One of those stupid fights that aren’t even about anything important, but that ended with Aunt Shelly cutting off all contact except for the family Christmas letter. That was Mom and Aunt Shelly both. Some great-great-grandmother’s wedding china was more important to them than actual family members.

I couldn’t blame Emma. If I had the option of walking away, wouldn’t I? Mom’s neighbors were standing out on their porches, and pretty soon reporters would show up, because who could resist watching a six-hundred-pound woman being publicly humiliated in front of the giant trash heap that was her home? Why would Emma want anyone to know we were her family?

“Yeah, well, thanks for coming anyway,” I said.

“Sure. I hope everything turns out okay.”

“I guess you’ll hear about it on the news, one way or another.”

“I’m sorry.” She stood there all wet-eyed, like she was going to hug me. In case that’s what she was thinking, I took a couple steps backward and held up the bottle of water.

“Thanks for this.” Then I walked back to where Mom was sitting in her recliner. She straightened up a little.

“Where’s Emma?”

“She had to go,” I said. As pissed as I was, I didn’t want Mom to know that her brother’s family had written us off.

When the tow truck came and loaded my car, Mom was so fixated on the cops carrying things out of the house that she didn’t notice. I was glad for that.

We’d been there another hour, and Mom had finished her bottle of water and half of mine, when she started coughing. I checked my pockets, and then the pockets on the recliner, but all I found was the TV remote and a bunch of romance novels.