Would she find the million dollars?

   Lindy had gaped at the man who lay bleeding on the stretcher.  My God, it was Reed! He had found her!
   Running out of the Dallas Hospital, she found the taxi she'd called for and whispered hoarsly, "take me to the Regency Hotel."  Reed  had been shot, she'd heard them yell in the emergency ward. She remembered the blood. What if he died? The following day she called the hospital and told a little fib. She was his sister she said.  He was out of danger and would recover baring no complications they ressured her 
   Should she go to him? She wondered what he would say if she told him the million dollars was gone!
   She gimaced then at that thought. And she remembered she needed to check the post office again. And after being laid up for days in the hospital herself, maybe, just maybe the thief had seen the ad in the paper by now.
   Lindy showered and dressed and another taxi was there in minutes. When she opened the post office box, she gasped. A plain white envelope lay there.  Her hand shook as she reached in for it,  then ripped it open. It read; Russel's Bar and Diner. October 4th-9:00PM. Wear red. Bring money.
   My God, could it mean she'd get her car and money back after all these months? The date was two days away. Back in her hotel room she paced. Could this be a set-up of some kind?  But she'd know her BMW anywhere and she had to take a chance and find out.
   October fourth came finally, and she opened the room's safe and counted out some of the cash she had gotten  from the sale of Dade's ring then grabbed another taxi. It was eight-forty-five.
   She'd dressed in a red shirt and her knees shook as she opened the door of the bar and walked in. Cigarette smoke and stale beer greeted her. The place was so dark she stumbled over someone's foot as she made a beeline to an empty booth. She put her purse and the canvas bag with the money down on the seat beside her and looked around cautiously. It was a workingman's bar. Most of the customers in work boots and dusty jeans she saw. Couples swayed to the music of Roy Orbison. A waitress came by carrying a tray of burgers and fries and her stomach did a flip over the smell of grease that it left in its wake.
   Would she recognize the man?
   She ordered a brandy Manhatten, although it didn't appeal to her, but maybe it would settle her nerves. Right now she had to take small breaths to still the nausea that threatened to well up in her throat. She lit a cigarette with shaking hands and of course, that tasted awful. She sipped some of the Manhatten and looked at her watch. It was nine o'clock with on the dot. Her heart thumped in her chest as Vince Gil's voice come on in a love song. The air was damp and hot. She willed her nerves to be still. Just then a man slid into the seat across from her.
   As she looked into his cold hard eyes, he whspered, "Where's the money?"