Hostage

'We're looking at murder charges, Kevin. Let me think.'

'It's about Mars. We've got to talk about what happened.'

Kevin wore the pussy face again, the mewly lurching eyebrows and don't-kick-me expression that made De

De

'We've got to find a way out of here, Kevin, that's what we've got to do. It's that simple. We look for a way out of this goddamned house because I am not going back to jail.'

De

They reached the master bedroom at the rear of the house. It was a huge room with sliding glass doors that looked out at the pool, this one room bigger than the apartment De

Kevin plucked at his arm.

'De

'Look for a way out.'

'Mars lied about that cop who came to the door. That cop never pulled his gun. You didn't have to shoot him.'

De

'Stop it! We didn't have any choice!'

'I was standing right there. I was watching him, De

De

'You just didn't see, is all.'

'I was there. Mars lied.'

'Why would he do that?'

'Something's wrong with that guy, De

De

'You don't know what you're talking about. We're surrounded by cops and we're looking at a homicide charge. We've got to find a way out of this, so just stop.'

Three doors opened off the bedroom. De

Clothes hung on racks with shoes filling shoe stands beneath the clothes like any other large closet, but this room had something more: A bank of small black-and-white televisions filled the near wall; Mars and the two kids could be seen on one of the screens; another showed the cop car sitting out front in the cul-de-sac; the Jaguar and the Range Rover were revealed in the garage, every room, bathroom, and hall inside the house was visible, as well as views of the outside of the house, the pool, poolhouse, and even the area behind the poolhouse. Every inch of the property seemed to be watched.

'Kevin?'

Kevin came up behind him, and made a hissing sound.

'What is this?'

'It's a security system. Jesus, look at this stuff.'

De

Still inside the room, Kevin said, 'Hey, I can see you.'

De

He turned back to his brother.

'What the fuck is going on here? They've got this place stitched up like a bank.'

Kevin was on his knees at the back of the closet, partially buried by a wall of hanging clothes. He slowly rocked back on his heels, then turned around holding a white cardboard box about the size of a shoe box. De

Kevin held out the box.

'Look.'

The box was filled with hundred-dollar bills. Kevin pulled out a second box, then a third. They bulged with money. De

De

'Lets get Mars.'

Je

Thomas nudged her knee, and whispered.

'Why won't he wake up?'

She glanced at Mars before she answered. Mars had pulled her father's desk chair across the room and was sitting so that he could watch the police.

'I don't know.'

'Is he going to die?'

Je

'Jen?'

Thomas nudged her again, his voice an insistent whisper.

'Jen?'

She finally answered, and tried to look upbeat.

'I think he has a concussion. That's all it is.'

The phone on her father's desk rang. Mars glanced over, but made no move to answer it. The phone stopped ringing just as De

De

'Your old man, what's he do for a living?'

'He's an accountant.'

'He does taxes for other rich people, he handle their money, what?'

'Duh. That's what accountants do.'

Je

'What's your name?'

'Je

'What's your last name?'

'Smith.'

'Okay, Je

'Walter Smith.'

De

'How about you, fat boy?'

'Eat me.'

De

Thomas blurted out his name.

'Thomas!'

'Fat boy Thomas, you give me shit, I'm go

'Yes, sir.'

De

'That's a good fat boy.'

Je