“The line cook or the one with the tattoo of the pope?” She looked at me, eyebrows up, bouncing.

“Tattoo of the pope.”

“Okay.” Deena took the kid over to the empty dresser drawer she’d just finished fixing up. She lowered the sleeping thing, the size of a football, and set it in the drawer so carefully you’d think it was a bundle of dynamite.

“And out of the blue, Cally called,” I said. “Long story short, she had the baby, but she wanted more time. Asked me to help.”

“So you brought her up here,” Deena said, standing up and wiping her shirt.

“To the hunting cabin, yeah.”

“And what’s in it for you?” Deena crossed her arms.

“Five grand,” I said.

Deena made a face like she was impressed. “So what’s the plan?” she said, moving to the kitchen.

“What do you mean?” I said, following her.

“For getting your money? When do you get your five grand?” She handed me my beer and opened the fridge to get one for herself.

“Oh, um . . .” I took a swig.

“And why isn’t Cally with you?”

“Um . . .” I swallowed and cleared my throat, trying to think of what to say.

“I don’t like the sound of that.” Deena opened her beer, keeping her eyes on me the whole time.

“She’s back at the cabin,” I said.

Deena swallowed. “Why?” she said.

“Because I left her there.”

“What the hell, Digger?” Deena rolled her eyes. “Does she know you’re here?”

I shook my head.

Deena put her beer down. “Then why are you here?”

“I panicked,” I said, shrugging.

“Oh, Jesus.” Deena turned away. We’d been leaning against the counters, but Deena picked up her beer and walked over to the kitchen table and sat down. She pulled out a cigarette and lit up.

I followed her and sat across the table. “Cally’s been acting like she wasn’t gonna go through with it,” I said. “And saying things.”

“Like what?” Deena took a drag.

“Like she wants to keep the baby.”

Deena exhaled. “Shoulda got the money in advance.”

“No shit,” I said.

Deena just shrugged and took another swig of beer. “So you thought it’d be a good idea if you kidnapped the baby instead?”

“What the hell? I didn’t kidnap shit.”

“Yeah, you did.” Deena pointed her cigarette in the direction of the living room.

“No,” I said. I felt my teeth clench. “I’m returning the fucking thing.”

“And who do you think is gonna pay you?” said Deena, but she didn’t wait for me to answer. “Because it sure isn’t gonna be Cally now that you’ve taken the kid. Without telling her.”

“Maybe we just went for a drive?” I said. My beer was warm.