Later, she realized that when he said he wanted total honesty, she should have known he was telling the biggest lie of all.

22

Elko was a spare and dusty town. They were married on a stranger’s front porch, a woman with dyed blond hair and a lot of eye makeup who took Roy’s money and their signatures and told them she’d file the paperwork with the city on Monday. Helene tried not to wish that her mom could be there, which was impossible, or her Aunt Willa, who’d had Helene as a flower girl at her own wedding, years and years ago. The whole thing took less than fifteen minutes, and ended when the woman said, “You may now kiss the bride.”

Roy crushed Helene in his arms, his mouth hungry on hers. She had never worn a ring on that finger before, and it felt strangely tight.

After cheeseburgers at a truck stop, Roy pulled behind a line of parked semis, peeled off the magnetic golden state solutions sign, stuck it to the trailer’s inside wall, and replaced it with premium project management. Then he took a screwdriver and swapped the California plates for a fresh set from Utah. He had a whole box of them. She counted fourteen different states.

Back on the road, he told her they only did a few jobs in each state. “And we never repeat in the same county, or even in adjoining counties. We don’t want the locals to get too curious. As long as they think it’s a onetime thing, some rich guy’s house getting robbed, they don’t pay much attention.”

“How long have you been at this?”

“Almost four years.” He flashed a smile. “If anyone knew how much shit I’ve done, I’d have an FBI task force on my ass.” He laughed and slapped the steering wheel. “But nobody has a clue.”

“Really? How can you know that?”

“I was a cop, remember? I still have plenty of connections.”

She thought of Bogaloosa, a sheriff’s deputy, and all the things he got away with. “What if somebody’s at the house?”

“That never happens,” he said. “We’re very careful.”

“Okay, what do you do with all that stuff?”

“Depends,” he said. “The tools go to one guy, the guns to a couple others. I know an antiques dealer in Chicago who will take anything I bring him. He even tells me the kind of stuff his clients are looking for. He pays really well, too.”

As Roy talked about pioneer-era furniture and high-end pistols, she realized this was the first time he had really told her anything about his life.