The first full sentence they heard distinctly was spoken by Cal.
“But they went back home—to that town called Brentwood,” Cal said. “I tell you I saw them get on the train, and I saw the train pull out. So what is there to worry about?”
“I know what you told us.” Grace’s voice, which had been so diffident and polite that day in Sam Morris’s jewelry store, now had a startling note of authority and command. “But nobody can tell us what they’re going to do when they get there. Are they going to take their little story to the cops?”
“What story could they take?” Barrack demanded. “They’d be fools to report that they had a gun pointed at them on the barge tonight. Cal here could vouch that they’d been trespassing. Cops would laugh at them.”
“Cops might not laugh if the kids said it was you who had the gun,” Grace pointed out sharply.
“Cal would have to say they were mistaken, that’s all,” Barrack said. “I don’t know what you’re worrying about.”
There was a moment’s silence. Ken, in the process of lowering himself to his knees in order to look through the hole, held his body completely still.
“I’m worrying,” Grace said finally, “because they turned up there at all. They saw you last night. They’d seen me in that little jerkwater jewelry store. But how’d they happen on the barge? If you can’t give me a good answer to that, I think we ought to clear everything out of this location immediately. How do we know they haven’t already connected one of us with this place too?”
“Be reasonable,” Barrack said. “They’re just kids. They’re not geniuses from the F.B.I.”
“Anyway, you don’t have to worry about my end of it,” Cal said cheerfully. “I’m taking care of that tonight. If you just keep this stuff undercover for a while, nobody can prove anything on any of us.”