“Colleen has no family left, just in case you were going to suggest that. Her parents died in 1980. She was an only child, and she and her husband never had children. Allen Hicks remarried two more times, and he never had children either. Besides,” she said. “Everyone who ever knew Allen Hicks agrees that he was a bad, evil person.”

Jonah riffled the bills again. “I’d say this money would be evidence in a criminal matter.”

“Which means, if I turned it into the police, they’d ask me a lot of questions about how it got up there in my attic. They might even come over here and dig up my yard or something.”

“That’s a possibility,” Jonah agreed.

“If I give this money to the police, they’ll keep it,” Drue said.

“Yes. I think that’s true. It would probably go into their general fund,” Jonah said.

He gave her a curious look. “You’re not thinking of keeping it or spending it, right?”

“No. But what if I wanted to give it away?”

“Like, to a charity?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. But this charity isn’t an organization. It’s just a needy, deserving individual. And I would do it anonymously.”

He nodded. “I guess that would work.”

“I’d need some technical assistance,” she said.

“Is that why you asked me to bring my laptop?”

“Yeah. Do you mind?”

They spent the rest of the evening poring over online listings. Jonah checked Blue Book values and Drue emailed potential sellers.

Drue poked the train case with her bare toe. “Do you think the cash will be a problem?”

He picked up a banded stack of cash. “These aren’t new bills, and as far as I can tell from what I’ve read about the case, the bank didn’t keep records of the circulation numbers of the cash Colleen withdrew. All the sellers I contacted are more than happy to accept cash.”

“Good.” She leaned over and closed the lid of his computer. “We missed the sunset. But do you feel like a walk on the beach anyway?”

“Only if you promise to let me carry the Mace this time,” he said.

They strolled down to the water’s edge and Jonah slipped his arm around her shoulder.

“This view never gets old,” Drue told him, kicking at a wavelet with her pointed toes. “And you know the funny thing? When I was kiteboarding, I never really paid attention to it. I loved being on the water, and I really, really loved doing tricks and flying, but the water and the wind? They were just there. Part of the equipment, like my board and my harness and my kite. Being grounded with this stinking knee injury has made me really stop and appreciate all of this.”

“Do you miss it?” he asked.