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said she was working here all morning. She’s sketchy on the details, but I’ve had worse eye witnesses.”
    Faith pointed out, “She couldn’t bend down to pick up that bag of money, let alone run like that.”
    Will wondered if Faith was right about his head. Then again, Will could clearly recall the girl behind the cash register, the way she’d eyed him appreciatively after the cop had tried to rattle his cage.
    He walked around the counter and started searching the shelves, which was made infinitely more difficult because of his cuffed wrists.
    “What are you doing?” Amanda asked. “That area hasn’t been cleared yet.”
    Admittedly, Will didn’t know much about women, but he knew that they didn’t go anywhere without their purses. That is, unless there was an opportunity to exchange their purse for a bag of cash.
    He pulled out a pink handbag with green and blue spots all over it. Certainly not the kind of thing an elderly woman would choose. Will tried the zipper, but his hands were too close together to do anything useful.
    Faith already had on a pair of gloves. She grabbed the bag and dumped the contents onto the counter. Will felt an inordinate amount of relief when he saw the pink lip gloss he recalled the girl applying to her lips. Faith was more interested in the wallet. She read from the license, “Billie Eugenia Lam, born October 9, 1994.”
    The name sounded old-fashioned, but the photo showed the young girl Will remembered.
    He said, “That’s her. She was behind the counter the whole time.”
    Faith asked, “What the hell? Maw-Maw said in her statement that she was ducked behind the counter the entire time.”
    “What the hell, indeed.” Amanda crossed her arms over her chest. “According to the interrogating officer, Maw-Maw says she works here three days a week. When she’s not volunteering at the church, that is.”
    “What a sweet old lady.” Faith flipped through the photographs in the young girl’s wallet. Will looked over her shoulder. He saw the usual stuff—Billie and friends posing with pouty lips and too much makeup, snapshots from a fun day at Six Flags, a photo of the dance floor at some club they weren’t old enough to get into.
    There were no family photos, but the last picture showed Billie from a few years earlier. She must’ve been in high school. She also must’ve been into sports. She was wearing a red and white uniform. Her ballcap was low. She had a softball bat resting on her shoulder.
    Faith asked, “What do you wanna bet Doug-Ray Pierce was her coach? Only this uniform isn’t from Spivey High.” She explained, “Jeremy used to play Spivey during regionals.” Her son had been a basketball player. “Their uniforms are green and white. The mascot is a Mustang. This looks like a ladybug on her chest.”
    Amanda reminded them, “Doug-Ray Pierce taught in west Georgia before he moved to Forest Park two years ago.”
    “Maybe he was diddling his players, Billie being one of them. She followed Mr. Pierce from west Georgia. She gets a job here, they do this heist.”
    Amanda finished, “And Maw-Maw lies to keep her granddaughter from going to prison.”
    Will didn’t completely buy the theory. “That would make sense if Pierce did it on his own. There’s Walker and the third guy from the back of the truck. Plus, Pierce is a pretty crappy bad guy. He wasn’t easy with the shotgun.”
    “Winchester Model 24.” Faith looked at the weapon on the floor. Someone had secured it with a zip tie, looping the plastic through the breach. “Pistol grip, beavertail forend, full choke.”
    Amanda cut to the point. “That’s not the kind of weapon you rob a convenience store with.” She started typing into her phone. “I’ll put a fire under ballistics and see if we can trace ownership.”
    Faith bent down by the weapon. “Serial number’s been sanded off.”
    Amanda gripped her phone.
    Will ran it through his head again, Doug-Ray Pierce’s shaking voice as he