Out of Sight

Then Adele had called to say it was tonight and, man, he'd have to move. Got Glenn off his ass, then went out to look for a car and found the ideal getaway vehicle in a Dania strip mall: white Cadillac Sedan De Ville Concours. Buddy was about to jimmy the door when he saw a woman coming from WinnDixie, middle-aged, wearing pearls and high heels in the afternoon, but pushing the cart full of groceries herself, so she wouldn't have to tip a carryout boy, some poor Haitian who'd come here in a rowboat. Buddy stuck the jimmy in his pants, against the small of his back. He waited until the woman was opening her trunk before coming forward with, "Here, lemme help you with those, ma'am." She didn't seem too sure about it, but let him load the groceries in the trunk and take the key out of the lock. The woman said, "I didn't ask for your help, so don't expect a tip."

Buddy waved it off.

"That's okay, ma'am." He said, "I'll just take your car." Got in and drove off. The woman might've yelled at him, but with the windows shut and the air on high he didn't hear a thing. It was the first time he'd ever picked up a car this way, sort of like what they called car-jacking.

A quarter to six. If it was going to happen the way Foley said, it should be any second now. Almost all the cons were in from the athletic field, a few stragglers coming along in no hurry, moving through the spotlights.

Now Buddy was watching the woman in the Chevy again. He saw her hand come out the window to drop a cigarette and it made him think she did know about the break and was getting ready. He saw her other hand raise, inside the car, to the mirror and saw his headlights flash on the mirror again, the same way it happened before, when he first arrived. Moments later the Chevy's lights were turned off. Buddy was pretty sure she'd be getting out of the car now.

He waited, anxious to see what she looked like.

FOUR

Foley watched the Pup creep up the aisle toward the front of the chapel, eyes on the floor, no doubt listening for sounds from below. Sure enough, he said, "I don't hear nothing."

"They're not digging now, Pup, they're done. Six of 'em in the tunnel as we speak, ready to go." Foley thought of something he might need to know and said, "What do you say when you're reporting a break?"

"That's an amber alert," Pup said.

"You sure they're down there?"

"I saw 'em duck into the crawl space."

"Where's the tunnel come out?"

"Second fence post from the tower out there. Go on, take a look."

Pup turned his back, walked up the aisle and across the front of the pews to a window. Lights in the compound reflected on the glass and turned the shades a dirty yellow. Pup said, "I don't see nothing there."

Foley, picking up his jacket with the two-by-four baseball bat, moving through the pews to the window aisle, said, "You will directly. Keep watching."

Pup said, "They's nobody in tower six this time of day-if they do come out."

Foley said, "You think they don't know that?" moving up behind Pup, seeing the guard shirt stretched tight across the man's back, a lot of heft to him. Foley let his jacket slip to the floor; he held the two-by-four in his left hand now, down against his leg.

Pup said, "There some car headlights out there…" Now he was pulling his radio from his belt saying "Jesus Christ…"

Saying into the radio, "Man outside the fence! By tower six!"

Nothing about it being an amber alert-too excited. Foley edged in closer to see the car headlights in the parking lot shining on the fence, a dark-blue car and a white one behind it that had to be Buddy, bless his heart. Foley on his toes now looking at freedom, feeling it-man, right there-as the Pup was identifying himself, saying this was Officer Pupko and where he was, sending out the word too soon, before Foley was ready. He saw a figure by the fence now, lit blue in the headlights, as Pup was yelling into his radio, "I'm looking at him, for Christ sake!"

Foley took a moment to remind himself not to hold back, to follow through. Hold back, you make a mess. He got the angle he wanted, stepped in like he was going for a high hard one and laid the two-by-four smack against the side of Pup's head.

Dropped him clean with the one swing, bounced him off the window frame and down without a sound coming from him.

Foley took another look outside, saw two figures now by the fence, before he stooped down to get Pup undressed. Undo his shirt buttons and then roll him facedown, the Pup alive but dead weight. Man, it was work getting the shirt off, Pup not helping any. Foley quick put it on over his T-shirt. He heard a car horn blowing now, somebody leaning on it, maybe Buddy trying to tell him something. Like come on, move. He saw he wouldn't have time for the pants; he'd have to chance his prison blue wouldn't be noticed in the dark. Foley squared Pup's cap, too small for him, tight over his eyes, picked up the flashlight and slipped out the front door into the ficus bushes.