She opened one end. “Looks like Mack sent along some baseball gear for the kids. Why would he do that? He didn’t owe us anything.”

“Large ball caps and XL shirts?”

“I know, right?”

“Hand me that,” I said.

The box was plain brown cardboard with professional printing on the exterior: Sheriff’s Benevolent Society, Widow’s and Orphan’s Fund, XL shirts, large baseball caps. I tore open the box and found wadded-up newspaper with a note on top.

Bruno,

That night I wasn’t far behind you but I was still behind you. You’re a good cop. Don’t ever forget that. Don’t ever let anyone take that away from you. I found this at one of the places; I must’ve only missed you by seconds. From what you told me, I knew it was yours so I thought I would send it along.

Marie leaned over and pushed the wadded newspaper aside, awe in her tone. “Bruno, how much is there?”

“If I had to guess, I would say two hundred and fifty thousand.” Money from Chantal’s coffee table. The money from the train heists that I had buried in the backyard of the abandoned house on 117th and Alabama. Robby had found it, dug it up. Money he and Chantal were going to use to flee the country.

Marie covered her mouth and stared at me, her brown eyes filling with tears.