We dragged guns and cash down the stairs, then through a narrow hall to concrete steps that took us into the alley. I stumbled on the last step, and a rifle clattered on the ground.

Jason said, “Leave it. Just get us to the van.”

We made it to the van, and none of it was real: the alleyway damp, the stink of gun oil and grease as we shoveled guns and cash. A brick of fifties split open, and Jason raked the bills like leaves. “Do you hear that?” A far-off siren, and then others. Jason rolled the door shut, then put his hands on my shoulders, and tried to steady me as Robert often had. “Decision time, little brother.”

“What decision?”

“Come with me.”

I looked the length of the alley, then back. “You told me to stay away.”

“That was then, and things have changed. I can’t come back here, not ever.”

“Where are you going?”

“There’s a place up north. It’s what the money’s for. A dozen acres of rocky coast, a fishing boat and room to breathe. It’s beautiful. Trust me.”

“Where up north?”

“Only if you’re in. Only if I know.”

“But the guns…”

“Escape money, pure and simple. Pay for the land. Pay for the boat.” His hands were like steel, the sirens closer. “Ticktock, little brother.”

I hesitated because he looked like Robert, but that was mostly bone and skin and the color of his eyes. He saw the decision before I could get the words out. “Hey, kid, I get it. We don’t know each other anymore, not really.” His hands fell away. He stepped back. “You have a life. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s not like that,” I said.

“Sure it is, and it’s cool. Take care of yourself. Tell Dad I didn’t kill her.”

“Jason, wait…”

But he didn’t. He sprang into the van, keyed the engine, and rolled down the alley without once looking back.