C Box: Three Weeks to Say Goodbye

Sanders and Morales agreed to split up, each going with two SWAT officers. Torkleson, Cody, the tech guy with his video camera, and I would move straight down the middle of the trees toward the back of the trailer, where Torkleson would establish a command post to direct traffic.

“Turn your radios down and put your earpieces in,” Torkleson told his men. “ Communicate. Report what you see so we all know. This exchange is supposed to happen at nine, so we have an hour and a half to wait.”

“To freeze to death,” one of the officers said sourly.

“To save a little girl and put three monsters away,” Cody said.

As the men checked their weapons and equipment before splitting off into teams, I thanked each one of them for coming and I shook their hands. I hugged Morales and Sanders, and they hugged me back.

“We’re glad we could make it,” Sanders said. “We’ve got to square this thing.”

“We’ll get her back,” Morales said, fire in his eyes.

WE FOUND a small clearing 150 yards from Coates’s trailer and stamped the snow down with our boots. It gave us something to do, and the work kept me warm. We were on a steep hillside and could see out over the top of the trailer and the park and the access road. There was a thick U of four-foot-high juniper between us and the trailer to hide behind. Every few minutes Cody would raise his binoculars and study the trailer, watching for movement.

To me, Cody whispered, “I wish we could just go down there and cap the guy, believe me. But we have to do it this way, Jack.” He looked up to make sure Torkleson was far enough away that he couldn’t hear, and said, “You and I are dirty. We’ve got to get all these guys involved and let them make the arrest and the case. My name’s got to be out of it, and so does yours. Henkel will make the case for them when he testifies. I wish you hadn’t have shot him.”

“Me too,” I whispered back. “Something snapped inside.”

“It happens.” Cody grinned. I noted the frost on his eyebrows and three-day length of beard.

AT 8:45 we saw headlights coming down the access road into the park.

I couldn’t hear what the SWAT team was saying to Torkleson through his earpiece, but Torkleson said, “Yes, we see it. Can anyone get the make?”

He listened, nodded, and turned to us. “A yellow H3 Hummer.”

“Garrett’s car,” I said.

“Showtime,” said Cody.

THE H3 WAS MOVING very slowly. It wasn’t the snow that was holding it up but caution by the driver. I borrowed Cody’s binoculars and tried to see who was inside. The smoked glass made it difficult, but I thought I saw the silhouettes of two heads.

“I still don’t get Garrett,” I whispered to Cody. “What is it with him? I can’t figure him out.”

“Psychopath,” Cody said. “We may never understand. The kid crushed his mother’s head in with a rock while his dad looked on. This is one gene pool that needs to be drained for good.”

Realizing the implication of that statement, he said, “Jack, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean Angelina, for Christ’s sake.”

I shook my head. “She’s our daughter, Cody. She has nothing to do with Garrett.”

But I can’t lie and say what Cody suggested didn’t shake me to my core.

GARRETT’S SUV SLOWED to a stop in front of the trailer. It was close enough I could hear the ratcheting sound of the emergency brake being pulled. I still couldn’t see who was inside. They kept it running, and the headlights were still on. If Coates was inside he would have to know they had arrived.

The passenger door opened, and the dome light inside the H3 went on. I raised the binoculars. Garrett driving, the judge in the passenger seat. And between them, covered in blankets in the backseat in a car seat, was Angelina.

My heart filled my mouth. “Screw this! We’ve got to go get her. ”

Cody reached out and put a gloved hand on my arm. “Not yet, Jack. At this point they might be able to come up with some kind of lie that explains why they’re here. Remember who we’re dealing with, Jack. We’ve got a judge with connections and a known pedophile who has never been to prison. They both know how to work the system. We’ve got to let this play out so we can get them cold. ”

The crime-scene tech had set up a tripod and leaned into his camera eyepiece.

“Got ’em?” Torkleson asked.

“Perfect,” the tech said.

Torkleson bent his head to the side, listening to his earpiece.

“Coates just opened the front door,” he whispered.

The judge climbed out of the vehicle.

“He’s having a stare-down with the judge,” Torkleson reported. We couldn’t see Coates yet because his trailer blocked our view, but I could follow his movements by watching the judge’s eyes through my binoculars. Finally, the judge motioned toward the trailer and pointed at his car.

We couldn’t see Coates until he approached the H3. He was lightly dressed in some kind of dark one-piece overall suit, and he wore a fur cap. When he bent over to look into the backseat, I could see him rub his hands together and hear him squeal with delight-an inhuman sound that made a shiver rocket up my spine and lodge at the base of my skull. He started to move closer to the car when Moreland blocked him.

“Kill them,” I said.

“Wait,” Cody cautioned again. “They still haven’t done anything yet.”

“Cody,” my voice rose, “that’s my daughter down there.”

Torkleson looked away, concentrating on what he was hearing through his earpiece. “They’re arguing about terms,” he said. “The judge doesn’t want to hand over the baby before he gets the photos and the negatives.”

I could see the judge gesturing at Coates, and Coates crossing his arms and shaking his head. The words got heated, and I could hear shouting but couldn’t make out what was being said.

At last, the judge nodded and turned to the car and barked something at Garrett, who was still behind the wheel. Garrett’s door flew open, and the boy jumped out into the snow. He walked around the back of the H3 and opened the rear door and leaned in to unbuckle the car seat.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” I said.

“I can’t believe he brought her,” Cody mumbled.

Garrett freed the seat and swung the carry handle up. With one hand, he carried the seat away from the car and placed it in the snow between the judge and Coates. I raised the binoculars to my eyes so hard the eyepieces hit me in the forehead. I focused in on the car seat. She was covered in the same blanket the deputy had brought with her to our house. I couldn’t see her face. I imagined that her dark eyes glistened and her mouth was screwed up and she would begin to cry, not knowing where she was.

“Behold, the exchange,” Cody said, as Coates reached into his clothing and withdrew an envelope. He squatted and stuck it into the snow near the car seat.

“Hold it,” I said, my panic rising. “ There’s something screwy here. It’s the wrong kind of seat,” I said, and felt Cody and Torkleson look at me, puzzled. “I’ve helped her in and out of car seats so many times I know for a fact that Angelina outgrew an infant seat like that months ago.”

I swung the binoculars over to Garrett. He had walked back to his car and was leaning against the grille, watching both men, smiling at how childish they looked negotiating terms.

The judge grabbed the envelope and tore it open. He rifled through what was inside several times. When Coates made a move to reach for the car seat, the judge warned him off until he was through. Apparently satisfied after a few moments, he nodded to Coates, who took a step forward to pick her up. I saw the judge mouth “no” and lift it himself to hand it over.