“We got into the car and drove to town. I didn’t know what to do exactly, but I knew deaths have to be reported. It isn’t a town, really. There’s a store with a post office inside and a gas pump outside. The other building is the guy’s house. But he’s a real sheriff. It was dark by then. They’d closed up and were just getting ready for supper. We stood on the front porch and knocked. Carlotta was holding the baby. She still hadn’t cried or anything. He was nice to us. His wife, too. They brought us in and tried to feed us. We sat at the table while they ate. They gave us tea. She was a big fat lady. The sheriff was fat, too. But Lotta wouldn’t put the baby down anywhere, so she sat there at the table with the baby in her arms. It was dead, you know? But she kept sneaking little looks at the baby. She’d pretend not to be paying any attention to him, but every minute or so she’d take a quick hard look to see if maybe, after all, you know?

“Anyway, the sheriff said he didn’t have any authority in this kind of business and we’d have to drive to Missoula and report it to the coroner. The sooner the better. There was no use waiting. We went out to the car. It was about eighty miles.

“Driving at night in the mountains is something very strange. The roads are tight, snakey. There are bits of cloud wandering around, your headlights hit them and they flash and disappear. I saw ghosts. I can tell you they were mist and reflections, but I believe they were ghosts. Carlotta wasn’t talking. She just sat there holding the baby, making sure his head didn’t touch anything, bump against anything. He had a lot of hair. Anyway, I don’t ever want another ride like that. All the time I was wondering how long before he began to smell and if they’d put me in jail or something.

“It was late when we got there, eleven, around that. Everything was closed up. It’s a pretty dead place, Missoula. Finally, a cop stopped us and we asked him directions. The coroner’s office was in the basement of the municipal building. Everything else was dark. There was just one night clerk in this standard green room full of beat-up file cabinets and fat record books. There was a bad smell, and this high counter where we stood.