Stratter doesn’t even look at me. He’s not buying anything I’m saying. So, basically, I’ve gone from father of the year to a criminal in less than a day.
“You have to look into my story,” I plead. “You can track down Marli using the phone number I gave you.” It was the first piece of information I passed along.
“Dean, do you have anyone, anyone at all who can corroborate what you’re saying? Did you mention this woman to anyone after your initial encounter? Did anyone else see her?”
“Besides Mike? No.”
“Tell me where you really got the baby.”
Dick. “Her mother. Why don’t you search the airline records from Houston to Portland? She didn’t walk here, and Marli isn’t a common first name.”
He ignores me and continues pushing his theory. “Perhaps you went to your criminal brother and asked him to help you obtain a baby. For a share of the donations.”
“My brother is an addict, not a baby trafficker.” I can’t believe this shit. It’s ridiculous.
The door opens, and a man in a gray suit is standing there with another officer. Behind them both are Coach, Lara, and Hector.
“Stratter, the kid’s lawyer is here,” says the officer.
“Mr. Norland, don’t say another word,” says the guy in the gray suit.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“We’ve obtained legal counsel for you, son,” says Coach. “Larry here will take care of everything and get to the bottom of this.”
I’m completely shocked. In a good way. After how Nina and Mike acted, I thought I was on my own. Again. Words cannot describe how good it is to see these four people here to help.
“Detective,” says Larry, “it is not against the law to seek care for a child. And last I checked, parents were not required to have pink slips proving ownership of their children.”
Stratter leans back in his chair, cocky as ever. “We were called because there was concern for the child’s well-being.”
“And what alarmed the daycare exactly?” asks Larry. “Was there evidence of neglect? Is there a missing child fitting the infant’s description? Has someone stepped forward claiming the baby is theirs?”
“Mr. Norland couldn’t provide any information about the child.”
“Because, as he said, the mother left the infant in his care to attend to a personal matter. That is also not against the law. In fact, as unorthodox as her actions were, I would argue she was looking after the child’s well-being. I can tell you, as an attorney who’s been practicing family law for over fifteen years, I’ve seen neglect. That’s not it. So unless you can produce evidence that my client or the mother has harmed or stolen the infant, or has in any way broken the law, you need to return the infant to his care. Immediately.”
Stratter is red-faced and fuming. I can see we won this battle. I’m thrilled. But I know we haven’t won this war. We need to get to the bottom of this mess. For Fia. For me, too. I have to know if she’s my daughter, and if not, then whose?
And where the hell is Marli? By now, she’s had to have seen me on the news. So why wouldn’t she be calling?
The detective says that someone from Child Services will call and arrange to have Fia dropped off at my apartment, but I can tell by his tone that he’s not letting this go.
Lara, Coach, Hector, Larry and I go outside to the parking lot. The sun is finally out. Maybe it’s a good omen.
“Mr. Norland, this is my card,” says Larry, handing it over. “I have to run to the courthouse for another urgent case I’m working on, but call if you need anything. The hour doesn’t matter. I’ve also arranged for you and Fia to take a blood test first thing tomorrow. If it turns out she’s not your daughter, we’ll need to be prepared to show you were not involved in any criminal activity. If she is yours, this test will prove it so you can start the process of obtaining full custody. You do want that, don’t you?”
I don’t know. Do I? Full custody is a big deal. It means I’m agreeing to raise Fia and be there for her the rest of my life. Solid food, crawling, walking, potty training, kindergarten, training bras, periods, and boys. Oh God!
My pulse races. My brow starts to sweat. This is a lot. There’ll be no more telling myself it’s just temporary. There’ll be no more football first, Flip first, or my future first. Pursuing full custody is a formal commitment to make this baby my number one priority. And I have no clue how to do that.
Suddenly, an image of Fia’s sweet little pudgy cheeks and big gray eyes flashes in my mind. A wave of serenity washes through me, followed by a warmth in my heart. I have no plan and no idea how I’m going to make this work, but I know I want to.