That made me smile. “You have a granddaughter? That’s funny, because I don’t remember my daughter ever receiving a visit from her grandfather. Or a gift on her birthday, or a stocking stuffer at Christmas. So don’t talk to me about grandchildren, old man. You reap what you sow.”

“Hard-ass,” he said.

“I get it from you.”

He slammed down his cup. Amber liquid sloshed. I caught a whiff of whiskey and my mouth watered. Forget a circular argument that would get us nowhere. I could pull up a chair and drink with my father instead. Maybe that’s what he’d been waiting for the summer I’d been fourteen. He hadn’t needed a child to work for him, he’d needed a daughter to drink with him.

Two alcoholics, side by side in the dim lighting of a run-down garage.

Then we would’ve both failed our children.

“I’m taking a car,” I said now.

“I’ll turn you in.”

“Do what you need to do.”

I turned toward the Peg-Board on the left side of the workbench, dotted with little hooks bearing keys. My father climbed off his stool, standing to his full height before me.

Tough guy, filled with the false bravado of his liquid buddy Jack. My father had never hit me. As I waited for him to start now, I wasn’t afraid, just tired. I knew this man, not just as my dad, but as half a dozen jerks I confronted and talked down five nights a week.

“Dad,” I heard myself say softly. “I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m a trained police officer, and if you want to stop me, you’re going to have to do better than this.”

“I didn’t raise no baby killer,” he growled.

“No. You didn’t.”

His brow furrowed. In his fuzzy state, he was having problems working this out.

“Do you want me to plead my innocence?” I continued. “I tried that once before. It didn’t work.”

“You killed that Howe boy.”

“No.”

“Police said so.”

“Police make mistakes, as much as it pains me to say that.”

“Then why’d you become a cop, if they’re no good?”

“Because.” I shrugged. “I want to serve. And I’m good at my job.”

“Till you killed your husband and little girl.”

“No.”

“Police said so.”

“And round and round we go.”

His brow furrowed again.

“I’m going to take a car,” I repeated. “I’m going to use it to hunt down the man who has my daughter. You can argue with me, or you can tell me which of these clunkers is most prepared to log a few miles. Oh, and fuel would help. Stopping at a gas station isn’t gonna work for me right now.”

“I got a granddaughter,” he said roughly.