Anna pulled on Wyatts arm. You didnt have to do that.
Yes I did.
Wyatt stood looking at Stolle, seeing him with a cops eyes. Wyatt had got powder residue on his own hand but there would be enough on Stolles. The angle indicated suicide. He turned, took the slipcase from Anna. The money still had the TrustBanks paper bands around it. He took out a bundle of fifties, removed most of the notes from it, dropped the rest in their paper wrapper on the floor by Stolles feet. There were question marks but a suicide explained away most of them. Stolle had lost almost all of the stolen money at the gaming tables. Then hed lost heart and shot himself.
Wyatt turned to Anna. We cant stay here. Lets go.
She was holding herself for comfort, staring at the body. You meant to do that all along.
Hes a killer, Wyatt said.
What does that make you?
He took her arm. Come on.
They went back to their room. She wouldnt let go of the shock. You didnt have to kill him.
Wyatt cupped her small head in his hands. He found me when nobody else could. He would have found me again. You too.
She dropped her eyes. He felt her warm cheeks move in his palms as she nodded acceptance. He released her. Lets see what weve got.
They sat on the bed a metre apart and Anna tipped the money into the gap between them. He watched her count it, the tendons working in her slender fingers and knew a sense of loss.
She said, avoiding his face, How much did you say you got away with?
One strongbox, about a quarter of a million.
Theres less than half of it left. A hundred and five thousand.
They looked at the money, not each other. After a while Wyatt heard Anna say:
They want you but they dont know who you are and they dont have prints to tie you to any of this. Methey have my picture, my prints, theyre in a frenzy out there because I walked out of their precious prison.
Yes.
Theres nowhere I can go, is there, Wyatt? Not here, at least. Id always be looking over my shoulder. Id be a liability to you.
Her hand closest to his was restlessly sifting and sorting among the banknotes. He closed his big fingers around it and at once it went slack and boneless.
You got me out of prison but Ill never know exactly why. Do you know exactly why?
He couldnt go on holding that dead hand. He let it go and for a while she left it on the coverlet between them.
Ive always led a chancy life. Never the straight and narrow. Id always thought I had your kind of nerve and calculation. She shook her head. I dont.
Then she was looking at him, a sad face. Ill learn it now, on the run. The thing is, you never learnt it, its what you are, so Id never be like you.
Wyatt tried one last useless thing. Well build you a new identity, the person youd like to be, with interests youd like to have. Ill disappear two or three times a year for a week, a month, and come home again and you need never know the details.
She laughed; she gripped his hand. Wyatt, the little wife? No. She went sombre again. No. Always looking over my shoulder. I cant stay here.
He knew she meant more than that she should get out of the hotel. Where?
Europe. There are people who can get me that far.
Then she was pumping his arm for emphasis. Wyatt, let me have the money. Ill need all of it.
He looked away and shortly after that he said, Leave me five.
Five thousand dollars in the world.
A couple of days later, when she was gone, somewhere in the Coral Sea aboard an islands steamer, he took the five thousand dollars into Jupiters, a delay of his run south. Wyatt didnt believe in good or bad luck but he thought that surely things had to get better from this point.