'We can talk.'
'I saw all about it on the news.'
I could hear the excitement in her voice, the relief. She thought it was over, she thought we were free. It was how I wanted to feel.
'Yes,' I said.
'It's done now, isn't it? We're the only ones that know.' She sounded elated. I was half-expecting her to laugh.
'Yes,' I said again.
'Come home, Hank. I want to start our celebration. I've planned it out.'
Her voice was rich with joy. It stabbed at me like a knife.
'We're millionaires now,' she said. 'Starting from this very moment.'
'Sarah--'
She cut me off. 'I don't think you'll care, Hank, but I did something stupid.'
'Stupid?'
'I went out and bought a bottle of champagne.'
I shut my eyes, pressed the receiver against the side of my face. I knew what she was going to tell me; I could see it coming.
'I used some of the money,' she said. 'One of the hundred-dollar bills.'
I felt no surprise, no rush of panic. It was as if I'd known from the very beginning, from the very moment I'd pushed the duffel bag out of the plane, that this would happen. It seemed just; it seemed deserved. I rested my forehead against the side of the phone booth, the Plexiglas cold and smooth along my skin.
'Hank?' she said. 'Hon? Are you mad?'
I tried to speak, but my throat was clogged, and I had to clear it first. I felt drugged, half asleep, dead.
'Why?' I said. My voice came out very small.
'Why what?'
'Why did you use the money?'
She was immediately defensive. 'It just seemed like the right way to start things off.'
'You promised not to touch it.'
'But I wanted to be the first one to spend it.'
I was silent, struggling to find a way through this. 'Where?' I asked finally.
'Where?'
'Where did you buy the champagne?'
'That's how I was smart. I didn't buy it around here. I went all the way out by the airport and bought it there.'
'Where by the airport?'
'Oh, Hank. Don't be mad.'
'I'm not mad. I just want to know where.'
'A place called Alexander's. It's a little package store on the highway, right before you get to the airport's access road.'
I didn't say anything. I was thinking, my mind moving slowly, painfully around the situation, searching for an escape.
'I was good, Hank. You would've been proud of me. I said the bill was a birthday present, that I hadn't wanted to break it, but the banks were closed and my sister had just been proposed to, so it was worth it.'
'You brought Amanda with you?'
Sarah hesitated. 'Yes. Why?'
I didn't answer her.
'It's no big deal,' she said. 'The cashier hardly even seemed to notice. He just took the bill and gave me my change.'
'Was there anyone else besides the cashier in the store?'
'What do you mean?'
'Customers? Employees?'
She thought for a second. 'No, just the cashier.'
'What did he look like?'
There was a pause on the other end.
'Hank,' she said. 'He didn't even notice.'
'What did he look like?' I asked again, raising my voice.
'Come on. He doesn't know me. It's no big deal.'
'I'm not saying it's a big deal. I just want to know what he looked like.'
She sighed, as if exasperated. 'He was big,' she said. 'Black hair, a beard. He had wide shoulders and a thick neck, like a football player.'
'How old?'
'I don't know. Young. Probably midtwenties. Why?'
'Don't spend any more of it before I get back,' I said, forcing a little laugh, trying to make it sound like a joke.
She didn't laugh. 'Are you coming home now?'
'In a bit.'
'What?'
'In a bit,' I said more clearly. 'I've got a few things to take care of here. Then I'll be home.'
'Are you mad, Hank?'
'No.'
'Promise me you aren't.'
I lifted my head and stared off across the intersection. Carla and Lucy Drake had reemerged from the church. They were moving down the opposite side of the street now, their faces hidden beneath their yellow hoods. The little girl seemed asleep. Neither of them sensed me watching them.
'Hank?' Sarah asked.
I sighed, a tired sound. 'I promise you I'm not mad,' I said.
Then we said good-bye.
THERE was a directory hanging from a wire beneath the phone. I looked up Alexander's in it and called the number. A young man's voice answered.
'Alexander's.'
'Yes,' I said. 'What time do you close tonight?'
'Six o'clock.'
I checked my watch. It was 4:52.
'Thank you,' I said.
I WAS halfway back to my car when I thought of something else, the first vestige of a plan. I stopped in midstride and returned to the phone booth.
I looked up the state police in the directory.
A woman answered. 'State Police.'
'Hello,' I said, deepening my voice to disguise it, in case they taped their calls. 'I'd like to report a suspicious person.'
'A suspicious person?'
'A hitchhiker. I picked him up outside of Ann Arbor, and while we were driving south he pulled out a machete, started sharpening it right there in my front seat.'
'Pulled out what?'
'A machete, a big knife. I told him to get out after that, and he did, no problem, but then I started thinking,
