28
ONE more dread added to an already dreadful day. Cassie sat in the Boxster, the engine idling, at the curb across the street from the house on Lookout Mountain Road. The family had left the curtain behind the big picture window open. She could see in through the living room to the lighted kitchen where the three of them sat at the table eating. She couldn't see it from this angle but Cassie remembered from the open house that the chair where the girl now sat had a phone book on it. She probably thought of herself as too old for a booster chair, yet she needed the extra inches.
She looked away from the window to the sign. A short strip of painted wood had been hooked to the bottom of the realty sign below the name of the Realtor.
IN ESCROW
Cassie had never bought a house before but knew that the new sign meant an offer had been accepted. The place was being sold and the family would move soon. She gripped the wheel tightly. It made her elbow and shoulder throb. She thought about Leo's plan to give the money back. She knew there might not be time for another job – and no job would have the kind of money that had been in that briefcase. She found herself hoping Leo would fail in his efforts. She couldn't help it. She wanted the money now. She wanted to run.
Her cell phone rang. She dug it out of her backpack and answered. It was Leo but he didn't say his name. The connection was horrible. She was surprised he had gotten through to her in the hills at all.
"How you feeling?" he asked.
"The same."
"Well, you know those… you were waiting on? I just got a call. It looks like… and I'll pick them up tonight."
She heard enough to be able to fill in the blanks.
"Good. But they won't do me any good if I don't have the money."
"… ill working on that. I'm reaching… Maybe tomorrow I'll know something. One way or anoth – "
"What am I supposed to do in the meantime?"
"I didn't get that."
"What am I supposed to do in the meantime?" she asked loudly, as if the force of her voice could improve the fragile connection.
"We talked about this, Cass. You go to wor… your thing. Everything normal until we get this figured…"
"Whatever. This connection sucks. I want to go."
She sounded sullen and she didn't care.
"Look, sweetheart, we're almost there. I'm just waiting on – "
"I don't want to give it back, Leo. We're making a mistake. You are making a mistake. I have a really bad feeling about this. We need to go. Just go. Now!"
Leo was silent for a long time. He didn't even bother reminding her not to say his name. She was thinking that she had lost the connection when he finally spoke.
"Cassie, look," he said in an overly calm voice. "I'm getting… ibes, too. More than I usually get. But we have to… and cover all the bases. It's the only way to be…"
Cassie shook her head and glanced over at the realty sign once more.
"Sure, Leo. Whatever you say. Just be sure to call me and let me know when you figure out what to do with my life."
She flipped the phone closed and turned it off in case Leo tried to call back. As she did it she had a sudden idea of creeping into Leo's house while he slept and getting to the money. She would take only her share, leaving the rest for Leo to do whatever he wanted with. As angry as she was with Leo, the idea filled her with guilt. She pushed the thought aside and looked back at the house.
She saw the husband standing up at the table and looking through the length of the house and out to the street. At her. She saw him put his napkin down and start coming around the table. He was going to come out to her, to see what she was doing in front of his house. She quickly dropped the Boxster into gear and drove off.
29
"SUMMER Wind" was the song. It always got to Karch. Every time it came up on the Sinatra's Greatest Hits CD he had to hit replay and hear it again. They were all good but none could touch "Summer Wind." It was the class of the class. Just like Sinatra.
Karch was on the fourth run-through of the CD, watching the front of Warner Post amp; Pack It from the crowded parking lot of a bar called Presnick's a half block away. It was exactly eleven o'clock when he noticed the brake lights flare on a car going by the shop. It was a black Jeep Cherokee about five years old. It was the second time it had gone slowly by the store. Karch turned the CD down and got ready. He was already wearing his black jumpsuit, though for a different reason this time. The sleeves were decorated with varying lengths of heavy-duty duct tape that he had cut in preparation. He reached into his open briefcase and removed the remote global positioning system receiver along with the cellular link box and antenna as well as the GPS antenna from the foam cushioning. He got the tools he would need ready and got out of the Lincoln after popping the trunk. From the trunk he took the Rollerboy Mechanics Helper – a cushioned creeper board on one-inch wheels – then locked the car and walked quickly across Warner Boulevard.
Warner Post amp; Pack It was a one-story stand-alone building in a long line of stand-alone buildings, all of which were built to the property line, leaving anywhere from one to three feet of space between buildings. Karch slipped into the opening one storefront down from the mailbox business. It was about twenty inches wide and had primarily been used over time as a trash disposal point by pedestrians. Karch found himself almost knee high in debris – mostly bottles and crumpled bags of fast food. There was also the overpowering smell of urine in the cramped space. His entry into this dark crevice caused some unseen creature to loudly scramble through the debris and go back farther into the darkness.
Karch hung back about three feet from the opening, out of the direct light from the street, and waited. He was sure the Cherokee would come back and that it would be Leo Renfro driving. What Karch had to do next he had done many times before on other cases. But never as fast as he would have to do it this time. He figured he would have less than a minute to complete the installation. There could be no delays or mistakes.
The sound of an approaching car filtered into the hideaway. Karch crouched down and held the Rollerboy up as a shield. Even if Renfro was looking between the buildings, it was unlikely that he would notice Karch unless he completely stopped and shined a light into the darkness.
The car went by slowly and then Karch heard it stop in front of the mail drop business. He slowly moved toward the edge of the building he was leaning against. He glanced around the corner and saw it was indeed the Cherokee, sitting at the curb, still running and with its lights on. Karch pulled himself back into the crevice and waited. He knew he could step out and take Renfro right at that moment. But it was too risky to undertake out in the open and, more important, Renfro wasn't the goal. The money was the priority. To achieve that he needed to follow Renfro to his home, to the place he felt safest. It was there that Karch knew he would find either the money or a line to Cassidy Black.
The Cherokee's engine cut off. Karch braced himself against the wall, ready to move. He felt the hard points of the stucco digging into his back. He bent forward to listen and heard the car's door open and then close. He heard steps moving quickly on the asphalt. He moved forward and looked once more around the corner. He saw a man in his mid-forties and of trim build working a key into the front door of Warner Post amp; Pack It.
Once he had the door open the man looked up the street to the left and then back to the right. Karch ducked behind the corner. When he heard the door close he stepped out and crossed the sidewalk to the Cherokee. Crouching behind the car, he watched through the front window of the business as the man approached the wall of postal boxes. When he bent down in the area where box 520 was located, Karch knew he had his man. It was Leo Renfro.