Max unclipped the thin bar that connected the float to the valve, dropping it into the tank. Now the water would continue to flow.

But the tank had a fail-safe. The water would stop rising once it topped an overflow tube. Max looked around for something to shove into the overflow tube, and found only toilet paper, which might dissolve once the water hit it.

Then an answer came to him. He planted his right foot on the toilet seat, untied his boot, and removed the boot and his sock, then slipped his bare foot back into the boot. He twisted the sock and shoved it down the overflow tube. Then he stepped back and inspected his work, mentally going through the mechanics of what would happen. Satisfied, he put the lid back on the tank and gave it a flush.

By the time he finished washing his hands, he could hear water lapping onto the floor.

CHAPTER 29

It wasn’t just that Spud had disobeyed him, it was his tone, pushy—resolute—as if they were equals. He hadn’t asked Reed about going to St. Paul; he’d told him. Spud never talked that way to him. It was always maybe we should, or how about if we… And where had Spud found the balls to hang up on him like that?

Two more people took seats at the bar, one of them holding up a twenty to get Reed’s attention—a mojito and a scotch.

Reed went to work on the mojito. What if Spud didn’t come back? Christ. That would ruin everything. The world had to see that Reed was going about his life. Like it or not, he needed Spud. The plan wouldn’t work if someone didn’t stay with Pip.

The plan had always been to take Pip up into Canada once suspicion died down. But Reed also had a backup plan—his break-glass-in-case-of-emergency plan—that would immediately send him and Pip into the woods and into Canada, where he knew a shady pilot with a float plane. But that plan was supposed to be a last resort. If Reed took off for Canada now, everyone—including Bolger—would suspect he’d had a hand in Sandy’s disappearance. The case would be reopened. He and Pip would be fugitives.

Reed served up the drinks as a group of three men slid up to the only open barstools. “Three shots—whiskey,” one called out.

He had to trust that Spud would return. They were tied to one another; surely Spud didn’t believe he could walk away without any consequences. Reed had to believe that Spud knew better.

He served up the whiskeys and took an order for a vodka tonic. As he opened a new bottle of tonic, he looked up to see Grain Belt man standing in front of him again. The man kept his face tilted down in an odd fashion, the bill of a cap obscuring his eyes. He pointed the neck of his beer bottle at the men’s room. “Dude, you have a problem in your john.”