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“Morrison,” he said. “Morrison told me what to do.”
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“And he shaved his head?” he said.
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The elevator took us down to a lobby and then we stepped outside into a hot concrete yard. The prison door sucked shut and clicked behind us. I stood face up to the sun and breathed in the outside air. I must have looked like some guy in a corny old movie who gets released from a year in solitary.
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She dumped the stack of paper onto a cabinet top. Dusted herself off and flicked her hair back. Glanced at the door.
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He looked at all three of us in turn. Waited. We looked back.
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“Counterfeiting?” I said. “Counterfeit money?”
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