Before Hadley can puzzle it out, Grace is done, the bag so full the last bundles are stuffed in the outer pockets.
“Hand it over,” Hadley says, holding out her left hand while keeping the gun trained on Grace with her right.
Grace rolls her eyes, shakes her head like Hadley’s an idiot, then hoists the bag onto her shoulder and walks toward the door.
“Stop or I’ll shoot,” Hadley says, following her with the gun.
Grace turns and, without an ounce of fear, snatches the gun from Hadley’s hand and jams it into the diaper bag. The butt sticks up through the bundles of cash.
“Next time, check the safety,” she says, and she turns again for the door.
Before she can take a step, Hadley lunges and gets hold of one of the straps of the bag, spinning Grace around with so much force she nearly yanks her off her feet. With catlike reflexes, Grace recovers and grabs hold of the other strap.
Money flies everywhere as they pull against each other, threads popping as the bag stretches between them.
Hadley wishes she had thought to change her shoes. The Jimmy Choos slip on the slick tiles and make it impossible to get traction. The good news is Hadley outweighs Grace by at least fifty pounds. Finally an advantage to being fat. Loading up with everything she has, she puts all her weight into a final colossal pull, only realizing her mistake after it’s too late, when she is already flying backward, the bag flying with her and money tumbling everywhere.
Her shoulder slams into the wall first; then she crumbles to the floor, her ankle twisting painfully beneath her.
Grace picks up the gun, then begins to collect the money. And all Hadley can do is watch as her and Mattie’s future is gathered up in front of her.
Her chin quivers as she thinks of Mattie in the car and the hope in her voice when she asked if they were going back. Now it is only a few short hours later, and already, before they’ve even begun, she has failed.
When Grace is done collecting the money, she closes the safe and puts the lid back on the tank.
At the door, she stops. “I was actually trying to be fair,” she says. “Offering to share. I could have just waited for you to leave, then taken it all.”
“The money isn’t yours,” Hadley spits, the words trembling with her misery and rage.
Grace pats the bag. “It is now.”
She opens the door, starts to walk through, then stops. She shakes her head, then looks up at the ceiling as if thinking about something.
When she turns back, there’s a look of irritation on her face.
“What?” Hadley snarls, pain shooting through her ankle.
Grace sighs heavily and walks back to where she is. She squats down. “Put your arm around my shoulder. Come on, I’ll help you up.”
12
GRACE
Grace helps Mrs. Torelli out the back door, then locks it behind them. As they hobble toward her SUV, parked in the loading zone, her ears strain for the sound of Miles crying, and she is relieved to hear nothing but night noises and the slight rustling of the wind.
The diaper bag clunks against her thigh, heavy and bloated with far more money than Grace ever could have imagined. She tries not to think about it. She came to get what Frank owed her, but he didn’t owe her this much—not even close.
The problem is she’s not sure what to do about it. Leave it? Give it to Mrs. Torelli?
The woman pulled a gun on her. If the situation had been reversed, Grace knows that Mrs. Torelli wouldn’t have hesitated to take all the money and leave her with nothing.
Beside her, Mrs. Torelli hops on her bare left foot, her heels held in her free hand.
Grace stops.
“What?” Mrs. Torelli says. “You planning on stealing my car now?”
Grace sighs through her nose. She didn’t steal anything. She made a deal, and just like her deadbeat husband, Mrs. Torelli tried to renege on it. But this is a lot of money. Her brain spins as she tries to figure out the right thing to do.
Mrs. Torelli unwraps her arm from Grace’s shoulder. “I’ve got it from here.”
“You’re not going to be able to drive,” Grace says.
“I’ll be fine.” As if to prove it, Mrs. Torelli takes a step that nearly buckles her; then she takes another and ends up on the ground, her face twisted in pain as she hugs her injured leg to her chest.
“Like I said,” Grace says, “you’re not going to be able to drive.”
Mrs. Torelli glares. “I hate you.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not exactly on my Christmas list either.”
Mrs. Torelli’s face drops, and though she’s at least ten years older than Grace, at the moment, sitting barefoot on the pavement, holding her leg, she looks like an oversize toddler whose favorite toy has been broken.
“Come on,” Grace says, crouching beside her. “Upsy-daisy. I’ll drive you where you need to go.”
Mrs. Torelli doesn’t move; instead she continues to hold her leg and look hopeless.
“Look, Mrs. Torelli, you don’t have a lot of options here. Either you let me help you, or you call an Uber and invite someone to pick you up at a crime scene.”
Mrs. Torelli tilts her head, then tilts it the other way, her eyes narrowing before growing wide, as if she’s just realized she might be in trouble for what she’s done. Then she looks at the ground, shakes her head, and starts to cry.
Crap.
“Why?” Mrs. Torelli mumbles through her tears as her head continues to shake.
“Why what?” Grace says, losing patience. Miles is in the car, and now that things are what they are, she really wants to get as far away from this place as possible.
“Why are you helping me?”
“I have no idea,” Grace says, thinking she should have just left her on the bathroom floor. She’s about to tell Mrs. Torelli to forget it when the woman pushes onto her haunches and holds out her arms. With great effort, Grace lifts her to her feet, then helps her the rest of the way to the SUV.
A minute later, they are parked beside her Honda.
Grace nearly cries with relief when she finds Miles exactly as she left him, peacefully asleep in his car seat.
She carries it to the SUV.
“You brought your baby to a robbery?” Mrs. Torelli says as Grace straps him in behind her.
“You wore stilettos to a robbery?” Grace shoots back. Then she slams the door and walks back to the Honda.
13
HADLEY
Hadley stares at the baby, watching him as he breathes. She is alone in the passenger seat of her own car at the scene of a robbery with a stranger’s baby.
She shakes her head. Of all the ways she’s imagined this night could have gone, she can honestly say she never imagined this.
She flexes her ankle, and fresh tears fill her eyes. She can’t walk. She can’t drive. She has no money. She’s not even out of Orange County, and any hope she had of escape has been quashed. Her best option now is to follow Frank’s plan and hope he never finds out she was a part of this.
She bites her lip to keep her emotions inside, knowing babies are very sensitive to the emotions of others, even when they’re asleep.
The door opens, and Grace climbs in, her cheeks flushed from walking from wherever it is she’s stowed her car and from carrying the bag with the money.