his soldiers out to search the city. But the queen had disappeared.'
Amanda giggled. She slapped one of her hands at the water, and it made a hollow clapping sound. She kicked her foot at Sarah's breast. Sarah giggled too.
I couldn't tell if the story was finished, so I waited a few moments before I spoke. I had the photocopies in my lap. They gave off a faint chemical smell in the moist air.
Sarah lifted her thighs, then dropped them, drawing a gasp from the baby. They were both pink from the water. The ends of Sarah's hair were limp and damp.
'You found them at the library?' I asked.
She nodded.
'I guess it has to be our money, doesn't it?'
She nodded again, bending forward to kiss the baby on her forehead. 'Do you recognize one of them from the plane?' she asked.
I turned to the back page and stared at the photographs. 'I can't really tell. His face was all chewed up.'
'It's definitely our money.'
'He'd have to be the younger one. He was small.' I held the picture out toward her. 'The other guy's big.'
She didn't look at the photo. She was watching Amanda. 'It's weird, their being brothers, isn't it?'
'What do you mean?'
'I mean you and Jacob.'
I allowed myself to pursue that for a moment, but then I stopped. It wasn't something I really wanted to think about. I set the photocopies down on the edge of the sink.
'How'd you find them?' I asked.
She reached forward and pulled the plug on the drain. There was a rushing sound beneath the bathroom floor as the water began to make its way out. Amanda lay very still, listening.
'I just started going back through the old papers from the time you discovered the plane. I didn't have to go far. It was right there on the front page. When I saw it, I even remembered reading it.'
'Me too.'
'But it was just an article then. It didn't seem important.'
'It changes things. Doesn't it?'
She glanced over at me. 'How's that?'
'The way we talked ourselves into keeping it was that it was lost money -- it didn't belong to anyone, no one was looking for it.'
'And?'
'And now we know someone's looking for it. We can't say it isn't stealing anymore.'
She stared up at me from the tub, her face confused. 'It's always been stealing, Hank,' she said. 'It's just that before we didn't know who we were stealing from. Knowing where it's from doesn't make it any different.'
She was right, of course. I saw it as soon as she said it.
'I think it's good we know where it came from,' she said. 'I was beginning to worry that it might be counterfeit, or marked. That we'd done all this and it was useless, we'd never be able to spend it.'
'It might still be marked,' I said. I felt my heart throb painfully at the idea -- the bills were worthless; we'd killed them all for a bag full of paper. My mind reeled at the thought of it -- all our struggle, all our terrible choices, coming now, like this, to nothing.
But Sarah waved it aside. 'They demanded unmarked money. It says so in the article.'
'Maybe that's why they shot her. Maybe they got the ransom and discovered--'
'No.' She cut me off. 'It says they killed her right away. They shot her before they even saw the money.'
'Couldn't we tell by looking at it? Can't you hold it up to an ultraviolet light or something?'
'They wouldn't have given them marked bills. It'd be too much of a risk.'
'It just seems like--'
'Trust me, Hank, all right? The bills aren't marked.'
I didn't say anything.
'You're being paranoid. You're just looking for something to worry about.'
A little whirlpool formed at the far end of the tub. We both watched it spiral. The drain made a loud sucking sound beneath it.
'It makes me want to go back to the plane,' I said. 'See whether or not it's him.'
'Was he carrying a wallet?'
'I didn't even think to check.'
'It'd be stupid to go back, Hank. It'd be just asking to get caught.'
I shook my head. 'I'm not going back.'
Sarah lifted Amanda off her legs. The water was nearly gone from the tub. 'Get a towel,' she said.
I stood up, pulled a towel from the rack. I lifted the baby from Sarah's hands, swaddling her, and then brought her back to the toilet. When I sat down, I rested her on my knees, bouncing her a little. She started to cry.
'What scares me,' I said, watching Sarah dry herself, 'is that someone out there knows about the money.'
'He's terrified, Hank. They have his name.'
'The FBI said they're sure they'll catch him. He'll tell them about his brother disappearing with the money in a plane.'
'And?'
'The connections are just under the surface, Sarah. It wouldn't be that hard for things to come together. Carl knows I heard a plane with engine trouble out by the nature preserve. He knows about Jacob and Lou and Sonny and Nancy getting shot. If they find the plane, and they know it's supposed to have four million dollars on it...' I trailed off. Hearing myself say these things, I felt an instant's flicker of panic, a tremor in the muscles at the back of my neck. I waved toward the photocopies on the sink. 'It's like them forgetting about the security camera. We're bound to be overlooking something.'
She dropped her towel into the clothes hamper. Her bathrobe was hanging from the back of the door; she took it down and put it on. Then she picked up Amanda from my lap.
'The connections only seem obvious to us,' she said calmly. 'No one else would see them.' The baby slowly stopped crying.
I stood up. I was beginning to sweat beneath my suit, so I took off my jacket and draped it over my arm. My shirt was stuck to my back. 'What if Jacob or Lou or Nancy left something behind, a diary or something. Or if one of them told somebody we don't know about...'
'We're okay, Hank,' she soothed me. 'You're letting yourself think too much.' She stepped forward and hugged me with one arm, the baby -- still whimpering a little -- pressed tightly between our bodies. I let her rest her cheek against my own. Her skin smelled clean and damp and fresh.
'Think about how people see you,' she said. 'You're just a normal guy. A nice, sweet, normal guy. No one would ever believe that you'd be capable of doing what you've done.'
SARAH'S birthday was Saturday, the twelfth of March. I wanted it to be a memorable one, not only because it was her thirtieth but also because of the money and the baby, so I got her two big gifts -- both of which were well beyond my pre-duffel bag means.
The first was a condominium in Florida. Toward the end of February, I'd seen an advertisement in the paper announcing a government auction of property seized in drug raids. They listed all sorts of things that had to be sold -- boats, cars, airplanes, motorcycles, satellite dishes, houses, condominiums, jewelry, even a horse farm -- merchandise that could be purchased for less than 10 percent of its appraised value. It was on the following Saturday, March 5, in Toledo. I told Sarah that I had to work that day and drove into the city around nine, the hour
