Shoot the Moon Read Online Free PDF

the name of this motel as his local address. For all he knows, the guy may by now have the information and be heading this way. He takes a tiny measure of comfort in knowing that what the guy wants is the car - or, more precisely, what’s inside the spare tire - and not Goodman himself. Nonetheless, he gets up and checks to make sure his door is locked. And to be extra safe, he puts the security chain on. It’s one of those lightweight brass ones, attached to the wooden molding with a couple of half-inch screws. They go for about $2.98.
    The Weather Channel doesn’t seem to want to tell him tomorrow’s forecast. He’s learned that, in southern Florida, that’s a sure sign it’s going to rain. It seems the chamber of commerce forbids anyone from giving out weather reports that don’t call for clear skies and temperatures in the low eighties. He flicks back to the MTV channel, but some cowboy is singing about his faithful Cadillac. He turns the set off.
    He dials his mother-in-law’s number again. His daughter answers in a small voice.
    “Hello, angel. It’s Daddy.”
    “Hi, Daddy.”
    “How are you?”
    “Fine.”
    “Grandma said you had a headache.”
    “A little one.”
    “How do you feel now?”
    “Fine. The doctor said Larus can come with me when I go to have pictures made of my head.”
    “That’s good, angel.” Larus is Kelly’s stuffed animal, her security blanket. It’s almost as big as she is, a sort of a cross between a teddy bear and an elephant. No one can remember where it came from or what it’s really supposed to be.
    “Daddy, when are you coming home?”
    “Soon, angel, soon.”
    “Grandma doesn’t know any good stories.”
    “As soon as I get back, I promise I’ll tell you a real good story.”
    “A long one?” she asks.
    “A long one,” he agrees.
    “With chapters?”
    “With chapters.”
    “All right.”
    “Well, you feel better,” he tells her. “And remember Daddy loves you.”
    “I love you, too, Daddy.”
    “Let me talk to Grandma, okay?”
    “Okay.”
    After a few seconds, he hears his mother-in-law’s voice. “Did you call the insurance company?” she asks him.
    “There is no insurance,” he tells her again. “Do I have to call a lawyer?”
    He ignores that. “What do they think this could be?” he asks her. “The kid’s only six years old.”
    “Six-year-olds can’t get sick?”
    “Take her for the tests,” Goodman says. “I’ll find the money.”
    “You better find the money.”
    He understands it’s important for her to get the last word in. “Goodbye,” he says.
    “Goodbye.”
    “You got anythin’ else?” Robbie asks Russell.
    “No, man, thas it.”
    They had both nodded off, sitting in their corner of the rooftop overlooking 145th Street. Russell awoke first; it took Robbie another twenty minutes. Now, with nothing to keep them there, they stand up, stretch, and head for the stairs. At street level, Russell turns one way, Robbie the other.
    “Later, man,” Robbie says.
    “Later.”
    As he heads back home, Russell reaches into his pocket and closes his fist around the second yellow cap, the one he’s held back from Robbie. The one to get him through the afternoon.
    Goodman decides to let the matter of the spare tire take care of itself. He figures he’ll just leave the car right where it is tonight, parked just outside his room. Whoever’s looking for it will show up sometime during the night. Either they’ll break into the trunk and grab the spare or they’ll simply steal the whole car. In the morning, Goodman will find out which it was, then notify Avis one way or the other. Then, if they’ll let him use his Visa card again, he’ll rent another car and hit the road for New York. End of problem.
    He turns the TV back on, hunts for a movie, and settles on a National Geographic special about a lone wolf migrating north, trying to find his way home. The wolf is hurt, and Goodman senses that it’s not going to make it, so