He shook his head. "Not then. Me and him escaped, but we knew it was only a matter of time before they caught us. We were desperate, sitting on this stash, anxious to find a safe place for it before the cops closed in. We decided to split up. Johnny said he had the perfect place to hide the dough, but he figured it was better if only one of us knew. I'd have trusted him with my life. He swore he wouldn't lay a hand on it until we were both free to enjoy it. We went our separate ways, and by the time we got picked up he was empty-handed. The cops beat the shit out of him, trying to find out where he'd hidden the take, but he never would say. Ended up he confessed to the crime, but he never told anyone what happened to the money. The irony was, it was the cops' beating a confession out of him that got his conviction thrown out.

"Meantime, we both suspected Darrell was the one who blew the whistle on us. Like I said, after we were picked up, he testified against us in court. He swore up and down it wasn't him turned us in, trying to lay blame off on his brother, Frank. Me and Johnny both got twenty-five years to life, but Johnny's conviction was overturned on appeal.

He went home to his family while I'm sitting on my butt down in the U.S. Penitentiary in Atlanta, Georgia. Johnny went back later and removed enough from the stash to support himself and my ma, who's still back in Kentucky." He indicated her belly. "That's what's left."

"Wait a minute. What makes you so sure it's eight grand?"

"Because he told me how much he took and what he spent since then. I did the math and figured what the balance was."

"Where's the rest?"

"Well, you know. I guess it's still where it was."

I stared at him. "I hope you're not going to tell me he died without revealing where he hid it."

Ray shrugged uneasily. "That's about it."

12

Laura moaned and leaned forward as if she were on the verge of fainting. She tried to get her head down between her knees, but the bulk of her belly thwarted her. She leaned sideways against the bed pillows, pulling her knees up to her chest like a kid with a stomachache.

"What's wrong?" Ray asked.

"Oh God, I thought there'd be more. I thought you knew where it was," she whispered, beginning to weep again. I'm a hardhearted little thing. I sat there wondering why crying is occasionally referred to as boo-hooing. I've never heard weepers use syllables even remotely related.

Ray moved over and sat beside her. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head, rocking back and forth.

"Laura's fine," I said, bored. I was aware my tone was rude, but I knew what she was up to, and the girlish tears were annoying. Ray rubbed her back, patting her shoulder in a series of ineffectual moves that, nevertheless, conveyed his compassion and concern. "Hey, come on. That's okay. Just tell me what's wrong and I'll help. I promise. Don't cry."

"Excuse me, Ray, but you might want to be discreet. She's already busy double-crossing Gilbert, and she's supposedly in love with him. No telling what she does to people she doesn't give a shit about. Uh, such as us, in case you missed the point," I said.

He looked at her, his brow furrowing. "Is that right? Are you trying to get away from him?"

"By sticking it to us" I said caustically. Neither paid attention. I could have saved my breath.

I handed her another wad of tissues, and she went through the whole nose-blowing routine again. She pressed a tissue to her eyes, damming the leak of tears. She launched into a fragmented explanation, but she couldn't quite manage it, and I was left to translate. I said, "She and Farley have joined forces. She's absconding with the money. This is just a guess on my part."

"You and Farley decided to pull a fast one?" he asked. He was trying to sound calm, but I could tell he was seriously alarmed. He knew Gilbert well enough to guess the depth of trouble she was in. She nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Oh, Jesus, baby. I wish I'd known what you were up to. That's really not a good plan."

"I can't help it. Farley loves me. He said he'd help. He knows Gilbert beats me. I have to get away before he kills me dead."

"I understand, hon, but Gilbert is a lunatic. He's not going to like that. If he finds out, I hate to think what he'll do to get even. Come on now and let's talk. Maybe we can figure out a way to get you out of this."

I loved his use of the word "we."

She sighed and sat up. Without the anchor of makeup, her eyes looked like they'd shifted upward half an inch on her face. Her nose was stopped up and her voice had dropped into a lower range. Her complexion was a mottled pink, and her hazel eyes seemed vivid against the dark red of her hair. The dark green corduroy juniper was hopelessly wrinkled, and the collar of her white turtleneck was streaked with foundation. "I don't know what I was thinking of. I just had to get away." She pulled her sleeve up. "Look at that. I'm black and blue. I look worse than you do, only this has been going on for months."