“Dealt drugs?” Jonas nearly smiled. “No, that wouldn’t have been exciting enough.” In the corner of the box was a small black address book. Jonas took it out to leaf through it. “But smuggling,” he murmured. “Jerry could have justified smuggling. Action, intrigue and fast money.”

Her mind was whirling as she tried to focus back on the man she’d known so briefly. Liz had thought she’d understood him, categorized him, but he was more of a stranger now than when he’d been alive. It didn’t seem to matter anymore who or what Jerry Sharpe had been. But the man in front of her mattered. “And you?” she asked. “Can you justify it?”

He glanced down at her, over the book in his hands. His eyes were cold, so cold that she could read nothing in them at all. Without answering, Jonas went back to the book.

“He’d listed initials, dates, times and some numbers. It looks as though he made five thousand a drop. Ten drops.”

Liz glanced over at the money again. It no longer seemed crisp and neat but ugly and ill used. “That only makes fifty thousand. You said there was three hundred.”

“That’s right.” Plus a bag of uncut cocaine with a hefty street value. Jonas took out his own book and copied down the pages from his brother’s.

“What are we going to do with this?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Liz rose again, certain she’d stepped into a dream. “Do you mean just leave it here? Just leave it here in this box and walk away?”

With the last of the numbers copied, Jonas replaced his brother’s book. “Exactly.”

“Why did we come if we’re not going to do anything with it?”

He slipped his own book into his jacket. “To find it.”

“Jonas.” Before he could close the lid she had her hand on his wrist. “You have to take it to the police. To Captain Moralas.”

In a deliberate gesture, he removed her hand, then picked up the bag of coke. She understood rejection and braced herself against it. But it wasn’t rejection she saw in his face; it was fury. “You want to take this on the plane, Liz? Any idea on what the penalty is in Mexico for carrying controlled substances?”

“No.”

“And you don’t want to.” He closed the lid, locked it. “For now, just forget you saw anything. I’ll handle this in my own way.”

“No.”

His emotions were raw and tangled, his patience thin. “Don’t push me, Liz.”