Twenty minutes later, Jenner returned to his room carrying two Winn-Dixie shopping bags. The sign was still on the doorknob, the roar of rushing water still coming from the shower. Under the vanity, the bag was untouched. And he was sure no one had followed him.

He tossed a bag of rubber bands onto the bed, then a box of contractor-weight, heavy-duty garbage bags. He set one of the empty Winn-Dixie paper bags on the floor between his feet, and went through the packets one by one. Some were professionally wrapped with paper binding ribbon while others were held together by rubber bands; Jenner tore off the wrappers and the rubber bands, discarding them into the paper bag at his feet and replacing them with fresh rubber bands.

The packets were mostly in hundreds, the bills nonconsecutively numbered. Some of the notes were pristine, and a smaller number were ready for shredding, but generally the cash was in fair-to-good condition.

It took Jenner an hour to repackage the money; when he’d finished, he had a heap of $835,000 in used currency, apparently unmarked and untraceable. He took a laundry bag from the closet and shoved $100,000 into it. He divided the remaining packets between two heavy-duty garbage bags, and then jammed the gutted overnight bag and its torn-out lining into a third.

Jenner set the bags on the armchair, then turned the chair to face the bed. He stretched out on the bed, looking at the money and thinking.