“Exactly. She even went in and checked the evidence to make sure the hundred was still there. It was.”

I tried to think about what this could mean, if it meant anything at all.

“What did you and Jack do?”

“Well, not much. There were a lot of numbers—six pages’ worth. We figured maybe we just got a bad one. You know, maybe the guy who recorded it all had messed up, transposed a number or whatever. We were running on a new case by then. Jack said he’d make some calls to the bank and Global Underwriters. But I don’t know if he did. Then, soon after that, we walked into the shit in that bar and everything else sort of drifted away . . . until I thought about Angella Benton and called you. Things are starting to come back to me now, you know?”

“I understand. Do you remember the agent’s name?”

“Sorry, Harry, I don’t remember the name. I might’ve never had it. I didn’t talk to her and I don’t think Jack even told me.”

I was silent while I considered whether this was a lead worth pursuing. I thought about what Kiz Rider had said about the case being worked. Maybe this was the angle. Maybe the people she told me about were FBI agents. While I was working it over, Cross started talking again.

“For what it’s worth, I got the idea from Jack that this agent, whoever she was, sort of came up with this thing on her own. It was her own little program she was running. Almost like a hobby. Not on the official computer.”

“Okay. Do you remember if you ever got any other hits on the numbers? Before this one?”

“There was one but it didn’t go anywhere. It came up pretty soon, in fact.”

“What was that?”

“It came up in a bank deposit. I think it was Phoenix. My memory’s like Swiss cheese. A lot of holes.”

“You remember anything about that one at all?”

“Just that it was a deposit from a cash business. Like a restaurant. Something we weren’t going to be able to trace any further back.”

“But it was pretty soon after the heist?”

“Yeah, I remember we jumped on it. Jack went out there. But it was a dead end.”

“How soon after the heist, can you remember?”

“Maybe a few weeks. I don’t know for sure.”

I nodded. His memory was coming back but it still wasn’t reliable. It served to remind me that without the murder book—the case documentation—I was severely handicapped.

“Okay, Law, thanks. If you remember or think of anything else, have Danny call me. And whether that happens or not I’ll be back to see you.”

“And you’ll bring the . . .”

He didn’t finish and didn’t need to.

“Yeah, I’ll bring it. You sure you don’t want me to bring somebody else? Maybe a lawyer that could talk to you about —”

“No, Harry, no lawyers, not yet.”