His hands rest on the table, the thumbs and pointer fingers of each hand meeting in a diamond shape, in plain view of the powers that be.

“Let me guess, Reed West,” he says.

I don’t look at Cash, but my guess is his jaw dropped like mine.

“How the fuck?” I ask.

He looks at his hands. He has twice as many shitty homemade tattoos on them as he did last time I saw them. My favorite is the kitchen knife across the top of his left hand. On the handle, it says, _I tried._ I’m thinking that has everything to do with the kid he stabbed last summer. And I would agree, if by try he means “tried to kill him.”

“I know shit,” he says.

“Yeah, it does have to do with Reed,” Cash says.

“Figured. Life chews you up. Swallows you. Becomes you.”

Here we go. Wilkinson makes sense about twenty percent of the time. I hope this isn’t a complete waste.

“We got like fifteen minutes here. We’re in a world of shit. We’re looking for a ledger that you apparently helped Reed hide,” I say.

“A document,” he says and looks out the window.

“Yeah, I guess so. Like a notebook of some sort? You know where it is?” I ask.

“Could very well be that I do, Jacky boy. But my arm’s a bit short to reach it.”

“Maybe you can tell us where it is?” Cash asks.

Wilkinson shakes his head. I hear a door open down the hall and fear our time is up. No way it’s been fifteen minutes, I’m not even sure it’s been two. Wilkinson leans in close.

“You want the ledger? I want out of here. A win-win, as they say. The easiest way to escape is through the laundry. Wes can help; he knows the driver. Pick-up is today at four.”

Then the door opens and the guard steps in. Wilkinson stands and puts his hands in the same diamond shape, but this time behind his back. He walks past the guard and stops in the middle of the hall, his toes touching a white line on the floor, apparently indicating where he is supposed to wait.

“Once you hear the door close at the end of this hall, proceed to the door you came through, and they will pop it for you,” the guard says, equally as excited about this dialogue as he was the previous.

“Thanks,” Cash says.

Wilkinson walks down the hall and as he rounds the corner, he sings, “Fly Like an Eagle.”

When they’re clear of us, Cash says, “Well, that’s a terrible fucking idea.”

“This whole thing is fucking terrible,” I whisper as the door pops and we walk back into the lobby. The woman is still sitting on her stool. From this distance, she actually does look like a witch. We go to the lockers, grab our stuff, and walk back to the counter. I pull out the note to show her I took good care of it.

“Thank you,” I say. “We’ll get this to Wes immediately.”

“I know you will,” she says and rubs her hands together. The sound is like sandpaper, and it gives me the chills.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Candace. Candace Clay,” she says and winks.

“So what would a date with Wes be worth to you?” I ask.

She shivers. Her face trembles and she moans.

“The world,” she says.

“Okay. Thanks again,” I say, and we walk out the front door.