"Ambulance'll be here in a few," Turner said from outside. "Probably catch pneumonia by then with my luck." He started to head to the Taurus, check back on the second-rate cheerleader, but he stopped when he heard Lanier call out, "Hey, Wade?"

"Yeah?" Turner said.

"I think maybe you should take a look at this."

"I'm fuckin' drownin' out here, Morgan. What is it?"

"I don't know," Lanier said, "but you better come here."

Turner sighed; felt the heavy rain pelt against his neck and down his back despite all the weather gear; and then he climbed into the back of the truck and pulled out his flashlight, pointing it toward his partner, who was crouched in the far corner.

"Check this out," Lanier said. "It's like some kind of secret compartment thing. Built-in."

Turner crawled over to the boxes, pushing aside the loose sporting equipment and clothing that had spilled out. He shone his light where Lanier was pointing. His partner was right. Some kind of wooden cabinet had been built into the paneling in the truck. Turner moved the light, saw that the cabinet went around three quarters of the space. The wood had splintered in several places, the result of the accident. Lanier reached inside, started to slide out what looked like some kind of lead weight.

"Jesus Christ," Lanier said. "It weighs a ton."

"Looks like a gold bar." Turner spoke quietly now. Almost reverently. "Like what they got at Fort Knox."

"Isn't gold kind of… you know… yellow or… gold… or something?"

"I think so," Turner said. "I've only seen it in the movies. That James Bond movie, the one with Sean Connery."

"Goldfinger," Lanier said.

"Yeah. It was yellow in Goldfinger."

"Maybe it's silver. Silver bars. It ain't yellow, so maybe it's silver."