“Huh?”

“Never mind. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I saw my guy just yesterday morning, I was almost close enough to spit on him.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“What I’m getting at is that I could have done the job and been home by now. I almost did it, anyway, Dot. With the gun or with my hands. I was supposed to wait but I thought, hell, why wait? They’d have been pissed but I’d have been out of here, and instead I’m in the middle of a manhunt for a killer they haven’t identified yet. Unless there’s been something on the news in the last few minutes?”

“I’ve got the set on,” she said, “and there hasn’t. Maybe you should just come home.”

“I was thinking of that. But when you think what airport security is going to be like around here—”

“No, don’t even try. You’ve got a rental, right? You could drive to, I don’t know, Chicago? And catch a flight there.”

“Maybe.”

“Or just drive all the way. Whatever you’re more comfortable with.”

“You don’t think they’ll have road blocks set up?”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“Of course I didn’t do anything, but the ID’s fake, and just attracting any attention—”

“Is not the greatest idea in the world.”

He took a moment, thought about it. “You know,” he said, “the son of a bitch who did this, they’ll probably catch him in a matter of hours. My guess is he’ll be killed resisting arrest.”

“Which will save somebody the trouble of sending a latter-day Jack Ruby to take him out.”

“You asked if this was my doing.”

“I really knew it wasn’t.”

“Of course not,” he said, “because you know I’d never touch anything like this. High-profile stuff, it doesn’t matter how much they pay, because you don’t live long enough to spend it. If the cops don’t kill you your employers will, because it’s not safe to leave you around. You know what I’m going to do?”