female cop was looking at one of the hymnals from a carton in the van.
“Hello,” Parker said, and they all looked at him. He nodded at Sandra and said. “There’s nothing down there.”
“Good,” she said, and explained to the cops, “This is Desmond. He’s the other volunteer.”
“I’m in recovery,” Parker said.
The male cop said, “You were in the basement?” Nobody interrogates somebody in recovery.
“We wanted to know if there was anything useful down there,” Parker said. “But it’s been cleaned out.” To Sandra he said, “The refrigerator’s gone, dishwasher, everything.”
The female cop pointed at the flashlight Parker carried. “No electricity in there?”
“No water, nothing.” He looked over his shoulder at the building. “Empty forever.”
“Not forever,” she said, and surprisingly smiled. “I went to this church when I was a little girl.”
Sandra, delighted by the news, said, “You did? What was it like?”
They all had to discuss that for a while. Parker saw that Sandra had toned herself down, made herself look softer, and that both cops had bought into the idea that she was connected to some sort of religious mission on Long Island, and that he and McWhitney were rehabilitated roughneck volunteers.
After the reminiscence about the old days at the church wound down, the male cop said, “Louise, do we have to toss this place? These people have been all through it.”
“Maybe I’ll just peek in,” Louise said. “See what it looks like now.”
“It looks sad,” Sandra told her. “Been empty a long time.”
Louise frowned, then shook her head at her partner. “Maybe I don’t wanna go in.”
“I think you’re right,” he said, and told the others, “We’ll let you people finish up here.”
Louise said, “I’m glad the hymn books are going to a good home anyway.”
Sandra said, “Would you want one? You know, as a reminder.”
Louise was delighted. “Really?”
“Sure, why not?” Sandra grinned at her. “One hymn book more or less, you know?”
Louise hesitated, but then the male cop said, “Go ahead, Louise, take it. You can sing to me while I drive.”
Louise laughed, and Sandra handed her a hymnal, saying, “It couldn’t go to a better person.”
McWhitney said, “Could I ask you two a favor?”
“Sure,” said the male cop. His partner hugged the hymnal to her breast.
“We’re driving a little truck,” McWhitney pointed out. “Just what everybody’s looking for. If we’re gonna get stopped by all these roadblocks, we’re not gonna get back to Long Island until Tuesday. If you could get the word —”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Louise told him. “The roadblocks are stopped.”
“They are?”
“That’s why we’re out here,” Louise said. “We’re searching every empty building in this entire area.”
“Not for the fugitives,” the male cop said. “For the money.”
“It has to still be somewhere around here,” Louise explained. “So this is a change of policy. The idea is, if we find the money, we’ll find the men.”
“That makes sense,” Sandra said. “Good luck with it.”
“Thanks.”
The cops moved off, Louise holding her hymnal. They got into their patrol car, waved, and drove off. McWhitney watched them go, then said, “Good thing they didn’t start that new policy yesterday.” Looking at Parker he said, “We can throw those prayerbooks out of the van now. We get to take the rest of the money after all.”
4
No, you don’t,” Sandra said.
McWhitney glowered at her. “How come?”
“You’re still two guys in a truck,” she told him. “They don’t have to have roadblocks to see you drive by and wonder what you’ve got in there.”
“Sandra’s right,” Parker said. “And we’ve got to move. Those two are going into the house across the way.”
They watched as, across the road, the two cops left the patrol car, went up on the porch, tried the door, and stepped inside.
Sandra said, “What do they find in there?”
Parker said, “A broken window, and your mat.”
“I can live without the mat.”
McWhitney said, “What if Parker drives your car? Then we’re a man and a woman in a truck.”
“I’ll drive my car,” Sandra told him.
Parker said, “I’ll ride with Sandra. We’ll follow you, and we’ve got to go
McWhitney was fast when he had to be. He nodded, slammed the van doors, and headed for the cab of the truck. Parker and Sandra passed him on their way to the Honda, and Parker said, “Head east.”
“Right.”
Sandra got behind the wheel, Parker in on the other side. She started the engine, but then waited for McWhitney to drive around her and turn right, toward the bridge over the little stream. As she followed, Parker looked back at the white house. The two cops were still inside.
“They’ll call in reinforcements,” he said. “But they won’t come from this direction.”
“I wondered why you wanted to go east.”
Up ahead, McWhitney jounced over the bridge, the van wallowing from all the weight it carried. The Honda took the bridge more easily, and Sandra said, “Did Nelson tell you about the guy who followed him?”
“Guy? No.”
“Oscar Sidd.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Nelson says he’s somebody knows about moving money overseas. Nelson talked to him about our money, but he didn’t expect Oscar to follow him.”
“Oscar thought he’d cut himself in.”
“That was the idea.”
“And Nels’s idea, talking to him in the first place was, cut us out.”
“I noticed that, too.”
