Burkett’s eyes lit up. “So you still have it. I don’t care if it’s marked. My creditors don’t care, either. We only care that you haven’t spent it.” He tensed his jaw. “Tell me which bank. Now.”

Ephraim yawned again, this one faked. “Ask my mom,” he said, slurring his words for effect.

“I did. She doesn’t remember. Listen to me, Harry, and listen well. Once that sedative drags you under, you’ll be asleep for at least twelve hours. If you tell me where to find the safe-deposit box, you’ll wake up. If not, I’ll kill you and tell the cops that I shot you in self-defense because you broke into my home.”

It was what he’d expected, but rage still boiled up from Ephraim’s gut. Asshole.

He could go for his own gun, but the doctor would shoot him before he could draw it from its holster. He swallowed hard. And pretended to be getting sleepier. Play along until he lets his guard down. “What difference does it make what the key goes to? She gave it to Mercy. The cops probably have it.”

“True, but they’ll have to get a warrant. All that takes time.”

“And if I tell you, I’ll wake up?”

Burkett nodded too eagerly. “I promise.”

Yeah, right. He let his eyelids dip to half-mast, so that he looked affected by the sedative but could still see Burkett. “What if she’s too batshit?”

Burkett frowned. “Your mother?”

Ephraim made a production of swallowing hard. “Yeah. What if the bank knows she’s incon . . . incomp . . .” He pretended to be frustrated. “Incompetent?”

Burkett’s frown melted into a smile. “Then you and I will take a trip to the bank together. When you wake up, of course.”

Fuck you, asshole. But the asshole still held a gun on him, so he continued to play along. “Won’t work. Cops will catch me. Bank will call the cops.”

“No, because I’ll stay with the bank teller, and if she tries anything, I’ll give her the same thing I just gave you. She won’t be making any phone calls.”

Ephraim snorted drunkenly. “And she’ll just drink your coffee?”

Burton smiled. “I have other ways to administer the drug.”

Ephraim smiled back, making himself look as goofy as he could. “Then I can see my mother?”

“Absolutely. I’ll bring her here when we’re done at the bank so that you can see her with your own eyes.”

“Okay.” Ephraim dropped his head to his shoulder. “Costa Bank,” he slurred. “Main branch.”

“Thank you,” Burkett murmured. “Was that so hard?”

Ephraim let out a sleepy groan and let his eyes droop closed. He was tensed, though, listening for the sound of Burkett’s finger on the trigger of his silenced gun. So far so good, he thought when nothing happened. I’m still here. He played possum for at least two minutes, biding his time until he heard the shuffle of the doctor’s shoes on the carpet, followed by an audible sigh of relief.