"It's the government that screws up. Look at the state we're in. The country's a mess."

"That's not the point. You can't violate the law."

"Listen to you, Miss Prissy Ass. What law?"

"Shall we start with breaking and entering?"

"That wasn't breaking and entering. We went up with Marty. He let us in of his own free will."

"And then you stole the keys."

"I didn't steal them. I borrowed them. I intend to put 'em back."

"It doesn't matter. I'm telling you, I'm through with this," I said. I turned the key in the ignition, shifted gears, and backed out of the space.

"Don't you want your bag?"

"Not now. I'm taking you home."

"Tomorrow morning, then, and I swear that'll be the end of it, okay? I'll pick you up at eight."

"Why so early? It's Saturday. The mall doesn't open until ten."

"We'll be long gone by then."

"Having done what?"

"You'll see."

"Uhn-uhn. No way. You can count me out."

"You don't come with me, I'll do it on my own. No telling what kind of trouble I'll get into."

I would have closed my eyes in despair, but I was already pulling up the exit ramp and didn't want to crash in my haste to get us out of there.

I turned right on Chapel. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Reba pull something from her jacket pocket, saying, "Well, this is cool."

"What."

"Looks like I stole something after all. Naughty me."

"You didn't."

"Yes, I did. These are Beck's. I found 'em in his desk in that Mickey Mouse secret drawer. Must be planning to skip town, the little so-and-so." She was holding up a passport, a driver's license, and assorted documents.

Abruptly I pulled over to the curb, greatly annoying the driver of the car behind me, who leaned on his horn and made a rude hand gesture. "Give me those," I said, grabbing for them.

She held the documents out of my reach. "Hang on. This is the real deal here. A passport, birth certificate, driver's license, credit cards. 'Garrison Randell' with Beck's photograph. Must have cost a mint."

"Reba, what do you think's going to happen when he realizes that stuffs gone?"

"How's he going to know?"

"How about he looks in his drawer the minute he gets back? That's his means of escape. He probably checks the docs twice a day."

"You're right," she said. "On the other hand, why would he suspect me?"

"He doesn't have to suspect you. All he has to do is figure out who's been in. Once he gets a bead on Marty, it's over. Marty's not going to risk his neck on your account. You'll end up back in the clink."

She thought about that. "Well, okay. I'll put 'em back in his desk when I return Onni's keys."

"Thank you," I said, but I knew I couldn't take her at her word.