Her dad took all of two seconds to examine the mess in the barn. He shouted at the hole in space. “Mollie! What in the hell are you doing? You’re scaring the cows, for Christ’s sake.”

“Hi, Daddy. You wanna round up the boys and get to work? Those slot machines are hard to open, but they’re full of cash.”

Brent squinted at the Cyrillic script on the battered machines. “Uh, where did these things come from?”

Mollie said, “No place you’ve ever heard of, dumbass.”

“Oh, yeah? Who are you trying to rob this time? Who you gonna get killed this time? I don’t want to get stabbed again, you know.”

“Hey! Screw you—”

“SHUT UP! Both of you,” said their father. He licked his lips. “Brent, go fetch your brothers. Mollie, I see another row of machines behind you that ain’t been touched yet, so keep at it.”

It wasn’t We love you, it wasn’t We miss you, it wasn’t even Why don’t you come home and help out on the farm for a while. Not that she would ever go back to the farm. But it would be nice to know she was welcome. That she had a home to return to, if she wanted it. She didn’t. But still.

Gazing into the barn, she glimpsed a length of coiled hose. It gave her an idea. “Hey, Daddy? Do you still have those hydraulic tools you bought at auction?” A couple of years before her card had turned, Mollie’s father had scooped up a lot of machinery in an estate sale.

“Yeah, it’s around. Why?”

Because slot machines were petty cash. But real wealth could be found in safes and fireboxes. And she knew where she could find a few. “I think I’ll need them. I’m gonna try to snag a safe or two.”

The squad room was like many others the Angel had seen in pursuit of her duties. Smaller and shabbier than most and also not as active. The Angel could sense that something was going on and as she exchanged glances with Billy, she knew that he realized it as well.

This was not a happy place. One or two of the cops were engaged in processing possible felons or were desultorily picking away at their computer keyboards with a couple of fingers. One, a big furry guy frowning with concentration who looked like a cross between an escaped Muppet and a child’s nightmare, used only one finger at a time from his big, clawed paws and even so, in the brief look that Angel got, seemed to spend a lot of time backspacing and retyping.

This being the Jokertown precinct, there were other unusual-looking cops. But they weren’t working. They were gathered in twos and threes in various corners of the usually busy room and engaged in quiet, almost ominous conversations. Most looked up at the four as they passed through.

Clearly, Lonnegan felt it, too. She stopped at the door to the corridor that led to the inner offices and turned back to the squad room with a frown.