The venue itself was the same hall used for winter basketball. I had volunteered to pour red punch from a drink station a week earlier. Half the room had filled with healthier-looking men, seasoned with wives and girlfriends. The other half had, well, more bachelors. Slowly, they mingled until ten counties of firefighters were one happy mess. If you asked me, that was the true miracle.
The old vets swarmed and leered at me, asking for refills again and again. Thank God when Lieutenant Elk-Shoulder and Sergeant Martinez showed up and scattered the vets like self-interested cockroaches. Martinez did all the talking and asked for Aunty Meg as some hikers had stumbled across a Jeep half-buried in mud. My heart skipped. They had it hauled back to town and found Genie's I.D. in personal effects buckled to the passenger seat.
Whatever that meant, I heard Aunty Meg's advice in my inner ear: don't show your feelings to people you don't trust. By then, the floor was thick with dancing couples. Even if I wanted to hunt out Aunty Meg, I'd have to stand on a chair or something because of my height. I hoped to God she had found her beau, and the two of them were mugging out in some private spot. A surge came over me to protect my kin. So, I made it crystal clear—in my best Aunty Meg voice—that I was the officer's only choice and they had best lead the way.
After some lefts and rights, the three of us stepped onto the lot behind Mark's garage. Martinez, I'm sure, had his reasons for keeping the police cruiser's disco lights going. Steady, sensible lighting came from these four makeshift spotlights—the same ones carpenters use at night when rushing a job. Genie's Jeep stood where their beams crossed. I clenched my hands into fists to fight off the shakes.
Martinez was quite pushy and asked for details from the last time I was with Genie, which would be a whole other re-telling. The only time Elk-Shoulder spoke was to say, "Give her a minute," as I slid down into the passenger seat, not caring about the mud.
On a whim, I opened the glove box. I expected an explosion of gum wrappers and parking tickets. Instead, a matted, muddy clump looked back at me. Genie's ALTOIDS tin was there. After some finger-chiseling and picking, I had the tin in my hands. I opened it up to look inside.
