Dad slows the truck down, pulls over to the side of the highway.
This isn’t going to be good.
“Brock, what the hell aren’t you telling me?”
“I made a promise, Dad. It’s not my story to tell.”
“I’m your father. You can tell me anything.”
“I want to. It’s just… Rory…”
“This has something to do with Rory? And Callie?”
I nod. I can give him that much at least.
“Rory told me in confidence,” I say.
“If it has to do with Callie, then Donny knows.”
I nod.
“All right. Maybe Donny will tell me.” Dad grabs his phone.
He can try, but he’ll fail. Donny won’t speak of it until he has Callie’s permission.
“Hey, Don. Sorry to bother you at work. Brock and I are on our way to Wyoming to check out those coordinates.”
Pause.
“Yeah, I’m going to put you on speaker.”
“Hey, Brock.” My cousin’s voice comes to the line.
“Hey, Donny.”
“I just gave your cousin some news,” Dad says. “I’m going to need to know what you know.”
“What news is that?” Donny asks.
“We got a name from our people. The name of a grandson. An alleged grandson of your great half uncle.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. A man named Pat Lamone.”
Donny’s phone clatters to his desk. Seriously. I hear it happening. Then the noise of him scrambling to pick it up.
“Did you just say Pat Lamone?” Donny asks.
“I did. And apparently your fiancée knows the man, according to my son here.”
“Brock…”
“Hey, I didn’t tell him anything. I said I couldn’t say anything until I talked to Rory. He decided to call you because he figured if it involved Rory, it involved Callie, which means you know.”
“I do.”
“Listen, Donny,” Dad says. “If this Lamone is truly a relative of ours, and if he’s a bad seed, I need to know.”