24 Hours

As Will neared the door, the FBI agent held out a small black box with a blinking red LED on it. “GPS,” he said. “Military grade. We can track you down to the square foot you’re standing on. Don’t lose it.”

Will stuck the unit in his pocket, went through the automatic doors, and raced for the Tempo. When he hit the driver’s seat, Cheryl said, “Where the hell have you been? I’m peeing prune pits out here.”

“You’ve got a real way with words, you know?” He cranked the Ford, backed up, then pulled out of the lot and onto Highway 90. Traffic was heavy, but he didn’t see any obvious pursuit vehicles.

“Where are we going?” Cheryl asked, her voice jittery from the speed she’d taken earlier.

“That’s up to Joe. Right now, we’re headed up to I-10. Wherever the meet is, it’s going to be north.”

Will swung into the right lane and started around a dawdling pickup truck. As he came alongside it, he rolled down his window, tossed the GPS device into the bed of the truck, and sped past.

“What was that?” Cheryl asked.

“A pig trail for the FBI to follow.”

“The FBI? Was the FBI in the bank?”

“Yes.”

“Oh shit. Oh God…”

“The FBI raided the cabin, but Huey and Abby weren’t there. All they found was the green truck and Huey’s cell phone.”

“Shit. I was right about the truck, though. I told you.”

He turned and gave her a hard look. “They also found a regular phone. A landline. You told me there was no regular phone service at the cabin.”

“I didn’t know there was! I told you I never went there.”

He lifted the briefcase from the floor and set it in her lap. “Open it.”

“Is the money in here?”

“Yes.”

She hefted the case. “It doesn’t feel right. It’s too heavy. Is there a dye pack in here or something?”

“No dye pack. Open it.”

When the lid rose high enough to reveal the neatly stacked hundred-dollar bills, Cheryl’s face lit up like Abby’s did when she saw a deer walk into the backyard on a cool fall morning. “This is too much,” she said in a flustered voice. “Isn’t it?”

“That’s three hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

She picked up a stack of hundreds and ran her fingers over it, then fanned the edges like a kid playing with a deck of cards. A high-pitched noise that was almost sexual came from her throat. Will knew the effect of cash money on poor people. He had learned it the hard way.

“Talking about money and holding it in your hand are two different things, aren’t they?” he said. “I told you I’d give you enough to start over. Now you’ve got it. That’s more lap dances than you could do in a lifetime. That’s freedom, Cheryl. Mexico, Bermuda, anyplace you want to be.”

She turned to him, her eyes guarded. “Can I leave now? Right this minute?”

“No. Joe is going to call any second to set up a meeting. I need you to tell him everything’s still all right.”

“No way.” She shook her head like a two-year-old. “I’ve already done too much. Joey will-”

“He won’t do anything! You’ll never even have to see him again.”

“You’re lying. To bluff Joey, you’re going to need me up to the very last second. Then I’ll be with him. And he’ll know.”

“He won’t know anything.”

“You don’t know him.” Unalloyed fear shone from her eyes. “Joey’s got this thing about betrayal. Like the mafia. He’s totally paranoid about it.”

“He’s going to kill my little girl, Cheryl. You don’t want to believe that, but deep down, you know. If he’s capable of killing you, he could kill Abby without batting an eye.”

“Would you let me go if you knew where she was?”

Will nearly slammed on the brakes. “Do you know where Huey’s going?”

“Would you let me go if I did?”

“That depends on whether I believe you.”

She pursed her lips and looked down at the money in her lap. “I was supposed to bring you to the motel, like I said. Then Joey was supposed to pick us up. I think he was going to take us back to the cabin where Huey was keeping Abby. But if the FBI raided the cabin, and Joey knows that…”

“He knows.”

“Then he’s going to his backup plan.”

“What’s his backup plan?”

“For Huey, I don’t know. I’m still supposed to go the motel in Brookhaven. Only I don’t bring you. I’m supposed to stay off the cell phone, too. Joey will call me at the motel-on a landline-and tell me what to do. I might sit tight with the money until he tells me to go somewhere, or he might pick me up.”

“Where would he tell you to go?”

She looked at the money again and swallowed. “I don’t know for sure. But I’ve been thinking about it. One time we were driving from Jackson to New Orleans, and Joey got all hot and wanted to do it. I told him I didn’t want to in the car, and he said we didn’t have to. About ten minutes later, he pulled off the interstate and went down this two-lane blacktop a ways and stopped at an old house. He climbed in a window and unlocked the door for me. His daddy’s people owned it, I think. The house was mostly empty, but there was a bed and a stove. I think if things went to hell up Jackson way, that’s where he’d go.”

This was what she had held back during the torture session. “Could you find that house again?”