The computer showed that Sandy was pulling into the parking lot of the bank. Even with her phone in her hand, he would be blind to most of her actions. This was the shakiest part of the plan, so he gave her a final pep talk.

“Don’t forget to take the phone with you. Don’t mess up now. And remember, I have eyes on you.”

She didn’t answer.

He had no accomplice inside, of course. He knew about the bald security guard because he made a visit to that bank as they were putting the plan together. All he could do now was hope that she believed his lie.

The earpiece picked up just enough of the teller’s voice for the man to hear “Good morning.”

“Hi,” Sandy said. “I’d like to make a withdrawal.”

The phone’s camera pointed up at an odd angle, catching the top of Sandy’s head and the ceiling beyond. After that, the voices became too muffled to understand. Spud began to worry as seconds ticked into minutes. How had he let himself get talked into this? What had he been thinking? He wasn’t a bad guy, but here he was, doing a very bad thing. There could be no half measures now—he was all in. The plan had to work.

Then he heard, “Here you go.” It was the teller. A few seconds of shuffling as she put the money into a bag and then: “Would you like someone to walk you to your car?”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

“Well, have a nice day.”

He heard the squeak of the door, and a few seconds later Sandy put the phone back into its place in the cupholder. Spud breathed a sigh of relief and then spoke into the phone. “You did well, Sandy. David will be proud of you. I’m proud of you.”

“I did what you asked,” she said, her voice trembling. “You promised not to hurt us.”

“I’ll leave once I get my money, I promise. You kept your end of the bargain, and I’ll keep mine. Just so you know, Pip was a perfect little boy while you were gone. He never came upstairs. He’ll never know any of this happened.”

She whispered, “Thank God.” He watched her wipe tears from her eyes. He turned the phone facedown on the table. He didn’t want to see her cry. The next step would be hard enough without that.

The dot on his computer screen made its way back to the house; Spud couldn’t seem to catch his breath. The air around him grew inexplicably thin. He put his hands on the dining room table and heaved big gulps of air into his lungs. When he became too dizzy to stand, he sat, the world around him going blurry through the tears that filled his eyes. Somewhere in that blur, he saw the movement of a small boy.

“Pip.” He wiped his eyes and blinked until the boy was no longer blurry.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”