“No. After I’ve left with Bradshaw, I want you to take this bag to the recycling bin in the kitchen. You’ll find a stack of the past week’s newspapers. Take them out of the bin and then remove the top layer of the money and set it aside. Put the rest of the money in the empty bin, and then hide it with a layer or two of the newspapers. Put the remaining newspapers in the gym bag and hide them with the top layer of money. Try to replicate the original weight. There are magazines in my bedroom if the newspapers aren’t enough.”

“I get it, but why are we doing this?”

She lifted the bag off the floor. “Because of your question, whose money is it? Jonathan could have prepped this bag with some kind of tracker sewn in the handles or the base. Or, if it’s not Jonathan’s money, then someone else could have done the same thing. Maybe that’s how they found him if the money was a dead drop.”

Jesse stared at the bag as the revelation hit him. “Then they could come back.”

“They could, but if they haven’t seen its location change, they may think Jonathan hid it. I don’t think they’d return in broad daylight. Most likely at night or when they knew for sure no one was here. Put on some loud music. Study on the porch. But just in case, follow me.”

They went up to her bedroom and she pulled back the bedspread and reached between the mattress and box spring. She offered him a pistol, butt-first.

Jesse didn’t take it immediately. “What’s this?”

“Well, if you have to ask, then it’s not going to do you much good. It’s a Smith & Wesson Thirty-Eight Special.”

“Is it loaded?”

“Revolvers tend to be more effective that way, unless you’d prefer to throw it at an assailant.” She released the cylinder. “It holds five shots, but I only load four cartridges, leaving an empty one under the hammer. I don’t want to drop the damn thing and have it discharge. All you have to do is point, pull the trigger, and the cylinder advances so the hammer lands on a loaded chamber.”

Jesse took the gun. Ethel pulled open her nightstand drawer. “Here’s a box of ammo, but if you need more than four bullets you’re probably in over your head and should make a speedy exit.”

Jesse ran his tongue over his dry lips. “Okay. Is there a holster or something?”

“Don’t fool with that. Just tuck it in your waistband and cover it with your sweatshirt. I’ll be back before dark. Are we good?”

Jesse slipped the pistol under his belt in the small of his back. “Yes. If I don’t shoot myself.”