“Burning down the house.”

“Maybe not literally,” she said. “But something … why else would he hide the money? I promise to send it back to you as soon as I get back home but please don’t tell Scott I kept it.”

“Where is it?”

“Our storage unit. Scott and I rented one after Mom and Dad passed. For their stuff, I couldn’t bear to get rid of anything. I tucked the suitcases in back, behind Mom’s piano. Scott never goes in there.”

“So Desi had a key to the unit?”

“I gave him one. They were his parents, too.”

“When’s the last time you actually saw the money?”

“The last time,” she said, “had to be… a couple of weeks after I stored it, so five months ago, give or take. I went in there and counted it. I’d never counted it initially. Why? Once again, I don’t know.”

“Fifty thousand.”

“In fifty-dollar bills, bound neatly. Do you really think it has something do with what happened to Desi?”

“Money’s the most common motive we see, Ricki.”

“Oh, God, I told Scott he was being paranoid, but now I’m getting sick.” She grabbed Milo’s wrist. “Is my family in danger?”

“I would hope not,” said Milo. “But we do need to get the money in a secure place.”

“I promise I’ll send it straight to you. I was going to stay for a few days, to arrange for Desi to be flown back, but I’ll leave today, have the suitcases shipped first thing in the morning.”

“Please don’t touch them,” said Milo. “We need to process them first.”

“Process?”

“Fingerprinting, that kind of thing. I’ll arrange for everything after you sign some forms releasing the contents of the storage bin for inspection. Is there anything else in your unit that belonged to Desi?”

“No,” said Ricki Flatt. “I’ll fill out anything you need, draw you a diagram showing where I put them. I just want them out of there.”

“I’ll handle it, Ricki.”

“Are Scott and Sam in danger? Please, I need an honest answer.”

“I’ve got no indication your family’s a target.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Thank God.” Gazing up at the ceiling. “What did you get me into, Desi?”

CHAPTER

19

Ricki Flatt filled out the search authorization.

Milo asked her where she was staying.

“I came straight from the airport.”

“Did you rent a car?”

“I took the shuttle to Westwood, then a cab.”

“I’ll get you a place. There’s a victim compensation fund, but it’ll mean more forms and take a while to get compensated.”

“I don’t care about that.” Her hands waved restlessly.

Milo called Sean Binchy over from the big D-room. Binchy was still poring over lists of construction workers with nothing to report.

“Find Ms. Flatt a clean, safe place to bunk down.”