"You're late." Mark's voice grated on Jeremy's frayed nerves.
"I'm here, ain't I?"
The boys had gathered under a cluster of trees in a remote corner of the school grounds. The dark night, made darker by an overcoat of storm clouds, rendered the boys invisible to anybody who might look their way.
Mark turned to Tim. "Hand 'em out."
A duffle bag lay at Tim's feet. When he unzipped it, light flashed against metal. He lifted something out and handed it to Mark, who passed it on to one of the other boys. Tim dug in the bag again and again, each time handing something off to Mark who passed it on to the others. In the darkness, Jeremy couldn't be sure what the items were, but unease made his hands clammy. He wiped them against his jeans.
"That's it," Tim said, handing a last item to Mark.
"Right," Mark said. "Here." He held the item out to Jeremy, who automatically accepted it. Cold steel burned against the palm of his hand.
"What is it?"
Tim snorted derisively, but Mark hushed him and flicked the pencil-thin beam of a flashlight in Jeremy's direction.
Tim had given him a knife. An eight inch long, lethal-looking knife. Jeremy swallowed hard. "What's it for?"
"Kid ain't got the brains God give a skeeter," Tim said in disgust.
"Shut-up, Tim." Mark's harsh voice didn't brook argument, and Tim subsided, but Jeremy could feel the other boy's icy stare.
"You did a good job robbin' that old lady," Mark said, turning back to Jeremy. "But now it's time you did some real work."
"He was too chicken-shit to swipe some wheels and pawn the piece," Tim said, despite Mark's earlier orders. "I can't see why you'd want him along tonight."
Mark rounded on Tim. "I thought I told you to shut-up!"
"It just don't make sense," Tim whined.
There was a sudden movement, a fleshy thud, and Tim landed flat on his back. In the dark, Jeremy wasn't sure what had happened, but he figured it was a safe bet that faces and fists were involved.
"Anybody else got any questions?" Mark asked, bending to pick up the flashlight he'd dropped.
The only sound was a low moan from Tim.
"Good." Mark reached into the duffle bag, shining the light inside while he fished about. Jeremy thought he saw the gleaming muzzle of a handgun, but then Mark flicked the light away and stood up. He nudged Tim with his foot. "Let's go."
Tim rolled to his feet and reached into the bag. Pulling something out, he shoved it into the waistband of his jeans. Soundlessly, the group moved out, blending into the shadows of the night.
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"Tea?" Harm asked, offering Mac a steaming mug.
Mac looked up from the open file in her lap. "Thanks." She took a sip and set the mug on the table beside her. When Harm sat down at the opposite end of the couch, she shifted, stretching out and putting her feet in his lap.
She wiggled her toes. "You make a good pillow."
"And you make a good book-stand." He opened the novel he was reading and propped it against her feet, then leaned back with a contented sigh. Soft music played on the stereo, and an array of candles flickered amid the framed pictures on the mantel. They often spent their evenings this way, content with only each other for company.
Harm was deeply involved in his book when Mac cursed and started rifling through the files she'd brought home.
"Something wrong?"
"Forgot a deposition I wanted to review tonight."
"Can it wait?"
She sighed and sat up. "No. I'm due in court on Tuesday morning. I'll have to run into town to get it." She closed the file and put it on the coffee table. "Do we need anything at the store?"
"Coffee, if you think of it. There's barely enough for the morning."
"I'll stop on my way home."
"Want me to come along? You can drop me at the store on your way."
"No need. Both stops combined shouldn't take more than a half hour or so."
"All right then." He turned, putting his feet up on the couch and opening his book. "I'll keep your spot warm."
"Gee, Harm. That's nice of you."
He grinned. "I do what I can."
She shook her head and picked up her keys from the end table. "See you in a bit. Love you."
Already involved in his story, Harm nodded absently. "Love you, too."
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The boys regrouped for a final whispered conversation in the shadow of an overflowing dumpster. Nervous excitement pinched their voices and dampened the armpits of their t-shirts. Jeremy was scared. The sheathed knife, shoved inside the waistband of his jeans, felt like a living thing against his skin.
Jeremy wanted to run. In his mind, his father's voice urged him to drop the knife and walk away before it was too late. Only it already was too late. It had been too late the minute Mark invited him along, and Jeremy was certain that if he backed out now his own life could be forfeit. Besides, at this time of the night, the store would be empty except for the night clerk, and what clerk would buck these odds?
"Put this on," Tim said, handing him an old ski mask.
The others were already putting on hats of their own. Jeremy nodded and pulled the mask over his head, grateful for the anonymity of its dark folds.
"Right, then," Mark said. "In, get what we came for, and out. No chatter. And—" He looked pointedly at Tim. "No stupid stunts."
The others nodded. Jeremy tried to remember to breathe.
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It was nearly closing time when Mac arrived at the store. She waved a greeting to Tom Greeves, the night manager, and hurried to get what she needed so that he could go home to his wife. Few customers did their shopping at this hour, so the aisles were dimly lit and quiet. Mac perused the coffee selection, looking for the brand she and Harm usually preferred.
A commotion at the front of the store made her look up. She couldn't see anything beyond the displays at the end of the aisle, but there was something new in the air, an indefinable wrongness that made her put the can of coffee she'd been looking at back on the shelf.
She eased down the aisle. With luck, she'd find that Tom had dropped something, in which case she'd round the corner to see him busy with broom and dustpan. But an abundance of close encounters over the years had taught her to be cautious. She'd rather laugh at herself later than walk into an ambush now.
Her caution paid off. A quick tally revealed six masked intruders. Most brandished knives, but two were armed with handguns. Tom was pulling money out of the cash drawer and shoving it into a nylon duffle bag. Mac dropped to a crouch behind a soup can display. Judging by their build, these were teenagers - maybe even the gang Jeremy'd been hanging out with.
The odds were against her. Six men, two with guns, and all of them looked nervous. They shifted uneasily, turning this way and that like anxious rabbits. It wouldn't take much to provoke a violent and possibly deadly reaction.
In her pocket, her cell phone rang.
Heads swiveled in her direction. She ducked out of sight and pulled the phone out of her pocket, glancing at the screen. Harm. She hit the receive button.
"I'm at the store. There's trouble." She hoped he could understand her whisper.
"We know you're there." The youthful voice carried a note of authority augmented by steel and lead. "Come on out before someone gets hurt."
Mac left the phone on. Hastily tucking it behind the cans of tomato soup, she stepped out of her hiding place.
"I'm unarmed," she said, raising her hands.
"Get over here."
The boy gestured with his gun. Mac walked slowly, buying time.
"Hurry up. We ain't got all day."
"Actually," Mac said, "it's night." Her voice was calm, but her pulse pounded in her ears.
"And I'm just dyin' to shoot me a smartass bitch," another kid said. Tough Guy, Mac thought, she'd call him that.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the boys stiffen.
"You don't have to be that way." The voice was young. Familiar. Damn.
A flick of the wrist, and Tough Guy had Jeremy in his sights. "Didn't we tell you to be quiet?"
Jeremy nodded, but sidled in Mac's direction. Tough Guy sneered. "Babysittin's about all you're good for anyhow."
"Shut up. Both of you." Leader, as Mac dubbed him, was taller than Tough Guy. Was this Mark Emerson? The body type matched Miss Emily's description, but his head was covered with the same black ski mask the others wore, so she couldn't see his hair.
Leader turned to Mac. "Where is it?"
"Where's what?"
"Don't play dumb, lady."
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." A quick glance through the big front window revealed a nearly empty parking lot and the deserted street beyond. No help there.
With a grunt of annoyance, Leader turned to the other kids. He gestured to three of them. "Find it," he said. "And make sure there ain't nobody else hidden away someplace."
The boys melted away to do his bidding. Black ghosts.
"You," Leader said, turning to Tough Guy. "Check the other registers."
The last few bills went into the nylon bag, and Tom set it on the counter. "That's all there is."
Leader shook his head. "You think I'm stupid or somethin'?"
Tom looked over at Mac, a silent plea in his eyes. She shook her head. Don't fight them, she thought. It's too dangerous.
"They're all locked," Tough Guy said, coming back. "Can't open any of 'em."
Leader waved the gun at Tom. "Open 'em."
"But they're empty," Tom said desperately. "I already closed them out for the night."
"Then where's the rest of the cash?"
"In the safe."
"Show me."
The ghosts returned from their mission, and one of them handed over her cell phone.
"All clear?" Leader asked, pocketing the phone with a swift glance in Mac's direction.
A chubby boy in a too tight t-shirt nodded.
"Good." Leader looked at Tough Guy. "Keep an eye on things. I'll be right back."
Tough Guy nodded and turned his gun on Mac. "Be happy to."
"Don't be stupid," Leader said, though Mac couldn't be sure whether he was talking to her or to Tough Guy. "You and you." He gestured to Jeremy and the chubby kid. "Stay here. You others come with me."
This improved the odds somewhat, but it was still one of her against three of them, and they had weapons. She glanced outside again. Still nothing.
"What are you lookin' at, Bitch?" Tough Guy had seen her furtive look. "Ain't nobody gonna rescue you, if that's what you're thinking. This town's deader'n dead once the sun goes down."
Mac took a half step closer to Jeremy, hoping to get near enough to talk to him without being overheard. A few feet away, the chubby kid was stuffing his pockets with candy bars and gum. Tough Guy backed up a step to watch.
"Get some of that for me," he said. "'Specially them M&M's."
"Jeremy," Mac whispered, when she was certain Tough Guy wasn't watching. "Don't do this."
Jeremy stiffened at the sound of his name and glanced toward Tough Guy. Seeing that the other boy was preoccupied with the candy, he looked back at Mac. "It's too late," he whispered back.
"It's never too late to do the right thing."
Sad eyes looked back at her through the slits in the ski mask. "My dad would say I made my bed, and now I gotta lie in it."
"Your dad was a smart man," Mac said. "But we can fix this if we work together. Isn't that what your dad would want?"
Another glance at Tough Guy and Chubby, then back to Mac. "How?"
"Distract Chubby long enough for me to handle Tough Guy." Chubby held a knife much like Jeremy's, but Mac didn't worry about that. Only the two older boys looked like they had any real interest in using the weapons they held. Besides, Jeremy was wiry and fast. He could take care of himself while she dealt with Tough Guy.
Jeremy shook his head at her. "You crazy? He's got a gun!"
"You've got to trust me, Jeremy. I know what I'm doing."
For long seconds, he watched her, considering her plan. Then he nodded and took a step in Chubby's direction.
"Jeremy," Mac whispered urgently. "Be careful."
Another nod.
A few seconds later, Jeremy had involved Chubby in a conversation about the merits of different types of candy bars. Mac watched them, biding her time and waiting for Chubby's interest in the candy to outweigh his interest in her.
A gunshot gave her the opening she needed. Without stopping to think about the sound's source or meaning, Mac hurled herself toward Tough Guy. Three strides and two rapid-fire kicks, and Tough Guy went down with a grunt of pain.
He still held the gun.
Mac saw the glint of light on steel, saw his hand come up. She ducked, rolled, and came up on her feet, but not before he fired off a single shot in her direction. Fire bit at her arm, but she didn't stop to check the damage. Spinning around, she kicked out once more and felt bone snap beneath her foot. Tough Guy screamed and dropped the gun. She kicked it away, only now becoming aware of a commotion behind her.
Busy with Tough Guy, Mac hadn't seen the struggle between Chubby and Jeremy. Now she saw Jeremy on the floor and Chubby running for the door. She heard sirens, saw the glare of lights in the window.
No time to check on Jeremy now.
Chubby wasn't fast enough to escape an angry Marine. She caught up, tackled him, brought him down, and smiled in grim satisfaction at his muffled grunt. A bloody knife spiraled away across the polished floor.
Rolling him to his stomach, she planted her knee in the small of his back and caught his flailing hands, bringing them back and up hard enough to make him whine. She hoped Bill and Harm caught up with the other three, but even if they didn't Chubby'd probably be naming names before they got the cuffs on him.
"Mac!"
She'd had her head down, catching her breath, but she looked up at the sound of her name. Harm. His worried gaze settled on her arm.
"I'm okay," Mac said. "Check on the others."
He ignored her, dropping to his knees by her side. "My God, Mac. You're covered in blood!" He reached out to her, but she pulled away.
"It's nothing," she insisted. She felt the dripping warmth and knew she needed medical attention, but right now there were more important things to worry about. Keeping her weight on Chubby's back, she reached out to her husband. "Please," she said, grasping his arm. "Check on Tom and Jeremy."
"Jeremy's here?"
She nodded and jerked her head back the way she'd come. "Over there. He's down. Maybe hurt."
"Where's Tom?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. They took him to the office to make him open the safe." Unwanted tears burned at the back of her eyes. She blinked them away. "Harm, I heard gunfire."
He nodded and turned. "Check the office!" She couldn't see who he was talking to, but she didn't care. "And get some help over here!"
With a last worried glance at her, he left, moving quickly in the direction she'd indicated. She saw him stop where she'd left Tough Guy, saw him say something to the boy who was sitting up now, cradling his own injured arm. Then he turned toward where she'd last seen Jeremy. He bent down, disappearing behind the candy rack.
The sound of approaching footsteps brought her head back around. "Bill. Thank God."
Pulling out his handcuffs, Bill knelt beside her. "You're hurt, Mac." He snapped the cuffs around Chubby's thick wrists. "Looks bad."
"It'll wait. We need to check on Jeremy."
"Jeremy's here? Where?" Fear gave Bill's words a sharp edge as he jumped to his feet.
"Over there." Mac jerked her head in Harm's direction.
"Mac," Harm called quietly. "You'd better get over here."