I looked down at Shae. She was perfectly still, as if posed for a snapshot. Her hair was splayed out on the ground beneath her and a dark red pool was spreading outward from her body.
There was a short, guttural sound, full of despair. I realized a moment later it came from me.
I turned fired over the top of the desk just as the cop started to pop up and he hunkered down again immediately. My best guess said that I had one, maybe two rounds left in this magazine. The second mag was in my back pocket, but I’d have to put the bag of money down to reload.
More than anything, I wanted to stay and shoot it out. I wanted to kill the sonofabitch who fucked up my plan, who took away our future.
Go with the flow, baby, I heard her say.
I backpedaled toward the door. The cop stayed behind the desk and no civilians got suddenly brave. At the door, I emptied the rest of the clip into the desk the cop was hiding behind, turned and ran out of the bank.
The rest of the plan went off perfect.
“That one was for Micah,” the woman on the radio said, “sending her love from far away to Jordan, stationed in Germany.”
I sat at the desk, sipping the whiskey and listening to the saccharine dedication show that Shae loved. She called it her guilty pleasure. The.45 rested next to the bag full of money. I stared at the droplets of blood on the bag. I hadn’t noticed them at the bank, or as I ran to the car and drove back to our shithole motel. But under the weak yellow light at the desk, the dark red drops stood out.
It wouldn’t take the police long to put the pieces together. They’d probably have her identified in less than a day. Two at the most. Her prints weren’t on file locally or in the U.S., so that would buy me some time. Once the cops struck out, though, they’d think to check with Canada. They’d find out about the banks we did in Vancouver. Maybe we left some prints behind on one of those jobs. They’d figure it out.
I reached down to my abdomen. Through my shirt, I felt the rough edges of scar tissue. I knew that the coarse skin under my fingers was still a deep and angry red.
Tears stung my eyes.
I should be driving north instead of drinking and sitting. And I suppose I would, just as soon as I drained my glass. I’d tuck the money in my suitcase, already packed before we even left for the bank, dump the shopping bag and the gun into a sewer grate and drive north. It was an hour or so to Colville, where my cousin Murph lived. I could hole up there, check the news coverage and get some rest. Then we’d drive further north, hauling a snowmobile in the back of his truck. One snowmobile instead of two. I’d pay him off and then snowmobile across the border into British Columbia.
I hoped Shae’s Uncle Terry would still take me in after what happened. I suppose I had enough money to make it happen, but with blood, you never know. Especially Irish blood.
And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Terry showed up with his truck, right where we’d gone cutting wood last winter in B.C., and met me with a shotgun. If he chose to do that, he’d do it without a sneer or curse. He’d just level it at me and blast me in the heart, without a word. That was his way. And maybe that’s what I deserved.
I could lie on the cold ground and my blood would spill out onto the white snow, just like Shae’s did on the cold tile of that bank.
“I’m Charity,” the woman on the radio said, “and you can call me with your long-distance dedication.”
I imagined a bit of light brogue in her voice that wasn’t really there, smiled and downed the last of the whiskey.
Another saccharine song started playing.
“This one is for all of you long distance lovers out there,” Charity intoned.
I’d head north, and go with the flow.
Laddie
“Hold on, Laddie.” Shae reached back and grabbed hold of my arm. “Jes’ feckin’ hold on.”
I opened my mouth to reply but only a gurgle escaped. The fiery pain in my gut sent shock waves outward.
“Oh, Jaysus,” Shae moaned, glancing back and forth between me and the road in front of her. Stress always deepened her already thick Irish brogue. “Oh, sweet Jaysus, Laddie. Don’t feckin’ die on me!”
I shook my head at her the next time she looked back. “Just drive,” I managed to say.
She pulled her hand away and clamped both on the steering wheel and headed north.
Pain lanced through my belly, and I bit back a scream.
Her hair hung in my face. She brushed her lips with mine and then suddenly, she stopped. “We should get outta Vancouver,” she said, her voice firm with decision.
“What?”
“Ye heard me,” she said. “We should leave fer a while.”
I moved my face toward hers, but she pulled away.
“I’m serious,” she said.
“You’re coming up with travel plans while we’re making love?” I asked, a little hurt.
She lowered her face to mine and planted a kiss on me. “It’s not like that, baby. I was jes thinking about how much I love ye and never wanna lose ye. I’d do anything to keep that from happenin’.”
“You’re not going to lose me.”
“It’s gettin’ too dangerous. Three banks in two months. We’re too hot around here.”
I ran my hand through her long black hair, enjoying the cool, silky feel of it. “You’re too hot, that’s for sure.”
“We should go somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“What about your hometown?”
I sighed and let my hand drop to the mattress. “I left there for a reason, Shae.”
“We don’t have to make it a social visit. We’ll get some work done. Maybe something other than banks.”
“Banks are where the money is. At least, that’s what some fine Irish lass once told me.”
“’Tis you who told me that,” she said. She dropped her chin and looking up at me with doe eyes. “But ‘fine,’ is it?”
I didn’t have any witty comeback. A dopey grin was the best I could do.
So we went to River City.
The pain settled into a dull throb, but the shivering got worse. The old Datsun’s tiny heater finally managed to spew out something moderately warm, but it did nothing to stop the shakes. The blood soaked through my clothes and coated the back seat.
“Is it stoppin’?” Shae asked. “The bleedin’?”
“It’s slowing down,” I stuttered back through chattering teeth. I wasn’t sure, though, if I’d stemmed the flow or if I was just running out of blood.
“Can ye make it to yer cousin’s?”
I swallowed hard and thought a moment. Colville was sixty miles north of River City. We’d barely cleared the north side of town, so it’d be an hour before we got to Murph’s house. “I don’t think so,” I breathed.
“What?”
I shook my head at her and took a deep breath. “Just drop me at an ER and go.”
I didn’t like the idea of going back to jail, especially for what would be long stretch, but it was better than dying.
“Feck that, Laddie,” Shae said. “I’m not losing ye.”
I started to tell her that somewhere between here and Colville, that was exactly what was going to happen. I passed out instead.
Once we’d arrived in River City, I started to plan the next job. All my old memories of the town came cascading back to me. Planning seemed like the best way to keep them at bay, or at least under control.
We stayed in a cheap motel called The Celtic Spirit. Shae insisted, as soon as she saw the name on the sign advertising cheap rooms. I sat at the rickety table with a yellow notepad and an open phone book, whittling down the options.
Shae seemed relaxed now that we’d left Canada. She took frequent trips to the Jacuzzi, read her history books on the bed and made love to me. I tried to pretend her interruptions were a distraction, but the truth was just the opposite. She was the reason I planned.
After two days, she announced, “We’re outta money.”