The Reckless Oath We Made - Bryn Greenwood Page 0,94

him go, with this mix of anger and sadness and hope. He looked so frail going down the stairs, holding on to the railing with both hands. He hadn’t seemed that weak last night.

After he was gone, I went down the hall to use the toilet. I planned to go downstairs alone, but when I came out of the bathroom, Gentry was waiting for me in the hallway. He had his boots on, and a red crease across his cheek from the pillow.

Downstairs, Uncle Alva was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a newspaper folded up in front of him. He’d taken off the button-down shirt he’d worn earlier and was in an old wifebeater. The tattoo was there, like I knew it would be, and, above it, a strip of medical tape held some gauze at the crook of his elbow. That kind of appointment.

I sat down across from him, and Gentry went to stand at the back door, staring out through the screen with his arms crossed.

Uncle Alva unfolded the newspaper and slid a big, old waxed manila envelope across the table to me. I started to untie the rotten shoelace wrapped around it, but he tilted his head toward Gentry, whose back looked like a wall. Now that I’d seen him in his armor, I could picture him that way all the time, even when he wasn’t wearing it.

“You trust him?” Uncle Alva said.

“Yeah. He brought me this far.” I didn’t say, More than I trust you.

After what he’d told Dane, I wondered what kind of crazy secrets Uncle Alva was offering me. I was not expecting ten stacks of hundred-dollar bills with yellowed bank bands around them. I pulled out one bundle and looked at the date on the top bill. 1996. I flicked through the stack, looking at all the dates. Nothing after 1999.

It was money from the first bank robbery.

“Jesus Christ,” I said, and for a while I couldn’t get any other words out. When they finally came, they were in a crazy jumble. “What is—why are you giving me this? Is this—you’ve had this all along? You asshole! All this time?”

“Keep your voice down. The boys don’t know, and they don’t need to know.”

I was quiet, until the urge to yell had mostly passed.

“Why give it to me now? There were probably a hundred times in the last fifteen years this might’ve been helpful. Like when I got hurt. Or for LaReigne to go to college.”

“Girl, you think I was holding out on your mama? Shit, if you knew how much money had gone through her hands. Them ladies novels. All them goddamn figurines. She spent what money she had on crap that didn’t add up to nothing. That there, I kept that back for you girls, like my brother asked. Only now I guess you need it.”

“I need more than money. It won’t do me any good if I can’t find her,” I said.

“You seem pretty damn sure she didn’t run off with them two fellas.”

I took out my phone and pulled up the home screen. “This is your great-nephew. He was born after Dad died. This is Marcus, LaReigne’s son.” My voice cracked. “She may have done a lot of stupid things, but she did not abandon him. She wouldn’t do that, not after what we went through when we were kids.”

Uncle Alva was quiet, looking at Marcus’ picture and tapping his pack of cigarettes on the kitchen table.

“How much is this?” I said.

“It’s a hunnert thousand. Fifty thou for each of you.”

“Let me ask you: did LaReigne—does LaReigne know about this?” I meant Is it remotely possible that the assholes who took her knew about the money?

“Might could be. I reckon over the years it’s possible your daddy told her, but she never asked me about it. He didn’t dare tell your mama, and I reckoned if I gave it to you while she was alive, you’d end up spending it on her.”

“Why are you giving it to me now?” I said.

“Because there’s a small chance I know somebody who can tell me where them boys are holed up. That information ain’t gonna be free. And if I can find it out, you ain’t gonna be able to waltz in there and say please. You’ll need something to bargain with. Them boys might be inclined to swap your sister for this money. I’d do it myself, but I don’t know that I got it in