Chapter 17: The Cash Box

Keith's POV

I walked across the lot before she could tell me not to.

The man in the gray car rolled his window down two inches.

"Can I help you?"

"You can give me the card," I said. "Whoever hired you has a name, and I'd like to know it."

"Can't discuss clients."

"Then you can discuss it with a deputy. I'll call one from here."

He looked at me for a while, then reached up under the sun visor and handed me a business card through the gap.

It had a phone number and the name of a firm in the next county.

Under it, in blue pen, someone had written an address I knew.

It was Dalton's mother's.

I put the card in my wallet and walked back to Monica, who was watching me with her hand flat on the truck.

"Well?" she said.

"It's his mother."

"Of course it is."

"I'll handle it."

"Keith." Her voice was gentle and not at all asking. "It's my divorce."

"I know. I'm only getting you a number."

She studied me, and I saw her decide to let me have that.

I drove her to Joanne's and waited at the curb until the porch light came on.

Then I drove to the pool.

It was a quarter to eight, and the building was dark except for the filter lights.

I let myself into the office and took out the cash box.

I had never really looked at it.

Dalton ran the private lessons on pool time.

Every dollar of them was meant to go into the scholarship fund for kids who couldn't pay dues.