You’re going to think I’m the bad guy of this story, when I tell you I came into town with half a million dollars stashed in the trunk, and a squalling baby in the backseat, neither one of them mine. See? Now you’re waiting for justice to be done. Somewhere in your head, a clock is ticking, counting down the hours until I get caught.

You don’t even know me, and you’re already waiting for me to be behind bars again.

That’s all right, though. I don’t blame you for that. Same thing anybody would think if they saw us. That’s why I needed to ditch this money as soon as I could, before the cops tracked us down.

“Come on now,” I said to the baby, whose name was RJ. “We’re here.”

That didn’t soothe him one bit. He was gnawing on his finger like a fox caught in a trap. Eyes all red and watery. Looked just like his daddy, my brother Ray. Last time I’d seen Ray, he’d looked like a trapped animal too.

You want a bad guy for this story, Ray will do. Except I needed him not to get caught either. Which is why he had fled up north, while I played Santa Claus delivering the cash to all the bad girls and boys. Leave it to Ray to get us involved in something this close to Christmas.

“Dada?” the baby asked me through his tears.

“Not yet,” I said. “Soon, hopefully, assuming he doesn’t get himself arrested in the meantime. No, now, don’t look at me like that. If it weren’t for your daddy’s criminal nature, we wouldn’t be in this bind.”

We’d made it. Not to safety, not just yet. I wouldn’t feel safe until the money was in other hands than mine. Still, twenty-three hundred miles, two days of red-eyed driving, and at least forty diapers changes later, we were pulling into the Oceanside Downtown Shopper’s Parking Pavilion, as the gussy sign out front called it, my beat-up black Olds looking out of place among the Priuses.

I got out my phone to call Ray, then dropped it in my lap. “Give me a minute,” I said to nobody in particular, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hand. My eyelids felt like sandpaper. I could use a pot of coffee. Or some sleep. Yeah, sleep would do. Sleep for days, stretched out on a motel bed, a real mattress, not the couch I slept on back home. No TV, and especially not a TV tuned to the news. I’d had the radio on the whole way here, listening out for the phrase nationwide manhunt. Those words had not been spoken, nor had I run into police roadblocks. I’d kept my speed carefully below the limit--not too slow, definitely not too fast. Hands at ten and two. Good boy all the way.

“Down?” the baby asked me.

I looked back at him. He had stopped crying, but was still sniffly, and now he was pulling at the straps of his car seat with one hand, and his ear with the other.

Ray could wait a few minutes for his phone call. RJ needed some freedom, and I did too. It had been a long damn drive.

When I got out of the car, my back was tight. I took a big stretch, arms up over my head. Saw some people walking by, turning their heads to look at me. Move on, people. Don’t act like you’ve never seen a man stretch before. But you know how people are, regular people. They’ve got a sixth sense for the bad guys. I’d never be able to blend in among people like this. I didn’t even recognize them. They looked like TV people in their slim jackets and long scarves and big coffees. They weren’t like the people back home.

“All right now,” I said to RJ. I got him unbuckled, and put him down on his feet. That got him perked up, and he started looking around, even though on his level there was nothing to see but cars. I kept a grip on his hand.

Leaving the car alone worried me. What if somebody broke into the trunk? What if they tugged out that heavy bag, fifty pounds of twenties?

I told myself I had nothing to worry about. I’d already counted three security cameras in the parking lot. These were posh people. They weren’t going to try jimmying my locks. Hell, if they wanted to steal from a car, they should try the little blue one that was parked next to us; somebody had left a laptop computer on the front seat, plain as day for anyone to steal.

“You hungry?” I asked RJ, and he nodded. His eyes were still red from his cry earlier, but at least he had stopped that screaming. “Tell you what. Let me call your daddy real quick, and then we’ll go into one of those restaurants over there.”

“Dada!”

“The man himself.” We found a bench to sit on, and I gave him my keys to play with while I called his dad.

Problem was, Ray wasn’t picking up. I got his voicemail. “I’m here, call me,” I said to it. Didn’t want to leave a more detailed message than that. Never knew who might be listening in.

Damn it, though, this was just like Ray. He had one job right now, staying safe and waiting for me to call.

“This ain’t good,” I said to RJ. Tried to keep my voice light and cheerful. No sense in letting him know how worried I was. This was supposed to be quick.

Calm down, I told myself. Knowing Ray, he was sacked out in a motel bed, a stack of empties next to the bed, his phone buzzing unheard beside him. Give him a couple hours, he’d drag himself back to being awake.

“All right,” I said to RJ. “Now, about that lunch. You like spaghetti? I’m in the mood for spaghetti.”

I was expecting him to smile about that; he loved getting his hands into a bowl of spaghetti. Instead, he grabbed his ear again and gave me that look, his little lower lip jutting out.

“Oh hell,” I said, as the crying storm hit again. “What is it, babe? What can I do?”

I scooped him up. Why was he so sad? Was he sick? Sleepy? I didn’t know the first thing about kids. But I felt a sense of panic as his voice got louder and louder. I had to do something, and fast.