Chapter 5

 

Sara Cook stared at the newspaper on the kitchen counter.

DARING ARMORED CAR HEIST GOES HORRIBLY WRONG screamed the headline. And it wasn’t even the local paper, Taos’s weekly. It said Journal North across the top, so it must be the one out of Albuquerque.

How had the paper gotten here?

“Sara? Honey, is that you?” Her mother’s voice was barely audible from the bedroom.

“Yeah, Mom. Be right there.” Sara caught words in the sub-heading, something about a driver in the Taos hospital in critical condition.

“Sara?”

She folded the newspaper and stuffed it between the breadbox and the wall, then hurried to her mother’s side.

“Hi, Mom. You feeling all right?”

The withered smile came from a face that looked far older than her forty-five years. Mom’s wispy hair was pure white now, her face drawn. Her thin fingers clawed at the covers.

“A little cold, hon. Can you bring me another blanket?”

Sara pulled the comforter from her own bed, the twin to Mom’s, and turned to drape it across her mother’s emaciated frame. Cancer. Such a bitch.

“How about your meds, Mom? Did you take the pain stuff?”

Her mother squeezed her eyes shut as she nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Did Matthew come back yet?” Mom asked.

“I haven’t seen him,” Sara said. The newspaper. “Maybe he stopped by and left again.”

“Oh, that’s right. He offered to get pizza for you kids’s dinner. He must have gone for that. Don’t know where he would have got the money. My check doesn’t come for another week or so. Does it? Maybe I just lost track.”

Sara thought of the bag of cash she’d had her hands on this morning. Why had she taken it inside that place, let others see it? She could have nipped one or two of those bills and no one would have ever figured it out. But what if they did? What if she got arrested for having somebody else’s money. They’d claim she stole it. No one would believe she’d just found that bag on the ground. She’d go to jail and Mom would be here, dying and grieving over Sara instead of taking care of herself.

“Matt probably had some of his own paycheck left, Mom. Nice of him to think of pizza. Maybe you’ll feel like having some with us?”

“We’ll see.” Mom reached for Sara’s hand and pulled her closer. “You’re such a sweet girl, baby.”

Sara sat on the edge of the bed and clasped her mother’s birdlike hand, rubbing it to take away the chill. The other hand was freezing cold, too. She took turns with them, warming the skin and tucking them beneath the blankets. When she heard the heavy breaths of her mother’s sleep, Sara rose carefully, pulled the comforter up to her chin and left the room.

She peered into her brother’s room, on the chance he’d been here all along. Sometimes he locked himself away and hardly talked to her. Moods. What right did a guy of twenty have to indulge his stupid moods and leave his fourteen year old sister to do all the work? The apartment was tiny but it always seemed to need cleaning; the laundry, especially the bedding, should be done more often; cooking was minimal, but there were nights when she’d like something more than a half can of chicken noodle soup.

Since the start of term she’d tried to keep up with her classes, but already she saw it was a losing proposition. If she could make it to semester break she could at least get half-credit for everything. But, seriously … she didn’t see how she could keep this up another three months. She would think about it this weekend, whether to go back Monday or drop out.

If only she’d taken some of that money.

Forget it, she told herself. Paid caregivers cost a lot. Plus, she couldn’t leave Mom with a stranger all day. School could wait. She could always go back. After.

The sound of a key in the lock interrupted her thoughts. Just as well—they were becoming dark anyway.

“Hey, Sara. You got home just in time.” Matthew pushed the door open, letting in a rush of cold air and the heavenly scent of pizza. “I brought dinner.”

“Mom said you were.” She rushed past him to close the door before the heater kicked on. “Thanks.”

“No prob. Let’s eat this while it’s hot.” He set the box on the counter, right where the newspaper had been. If he noticed it was gone he didn’t say. His mood tonight seemed buoyant. “Mom eating with us?”

“She’s asleep. I’ll save her a couple slices.”

He shrugged out of his jacket, dropping it on one of the barstools; it slid immediately to the floor.

Sara picked up the coat, a fairly nice black leather one she’d found for him at the thrift shop. He loved it but it wasn’t nearly warm enough for the coming winter weather. Another thing she could have done with the found money—bought them all decent coats. Their old ones would have to do. At this point it would be more important to keep the gas bill paid and the heat on.

She thought again of the news headline as she bit the gooey tip off her first pizza slice. If the money she’d found was in any way tied to that robbery, it was a good thing she had abandoned the bag.