Pike brought the bags home, but did not open them for three days. He put them in his bathtub the first night, figuring they would drain. The next day, he moved them to his bedroom at the foot of his bed.

He brought them downstairs on the third day, and opened them for the first time since they’d been out of the water. He slit the plastic wrappers and stacked the packs of cash on the floor. There were a few packs made up of fifties and twenties, but most of the four-inch-thick packs held only hundreds.

It took Pike four hours and thirty-five minutes to count the money, keeping track of how much was in each stack on a yellow legal pad. When he finished, Pike leaned against his couch and considered the miniature skyscraper city spread across his living room.

William Rainey had lied to the end, telling them he only had three hundred forty-two thousand.

If only you knew.

Pike counted six million, seven hundred, fifty-five thousand dollars.

Pike wondered how much remained hidden in other locations, but didn’t much care one way or another. He stared at the money for a while, trying to figure out what to do with it, then turned on ESPN and watched the late-night sports.

Later, Pike turned out the lights and went up to bed. He didn’t pick up the money. He left the stacks on his floor like the meaningless paper it was.

Chapter 52

52

Marisol Rivera Angel Eyes

Father Art was doing better except for the fever. The color had cleared from his urine, but a low-grade fever remained. Not so bad, only a degree or so, but it hung on like bad debts, leaving him weak. Marisol was worried, so she came early and stayed late, and tried as best she could to keep Angel Eyes open.

That morning when she arrived, well before the counselors or kids, Marisol found a blue nylon bag on the ground beside the front door.

That the bag would be here was odd, but more odd was the card pinned to the bag. It was a simple white index card bearing her name.

She looked around to see if anyone was watching, like maybe someone playing a joke to see what she would do, but she saw no one.

She brought the bag inside and put it on her desk. The bag had a hefty, bulky weight, maybe eight or ten pounds, like it might be filled with chocolate.

Father Art called from the back.

“Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me. Who else?”

“Don’t come back here. I’m on the toilet.”

“Finish your business. Call when you’re ready.”

Marisol went behind her desk, studied the bag, then pushed her suspicion aside and opened it. The first thing she saw was another white card. The note on this card was simple.

Someone is watching.

Chapter 53

53

Elvis Cole