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Talley walked away. He saw Martin watching from the command van, but didn't know what to say to her. He recalled his conversations with Rooney, and decided that Rooney did not know that Krupchek was really Alvin Marshall Bo
Talley glanced back at Jones. He and his men were waiting together at the rear of their van. Waiting for the call.
Talley decided that he couldn't wait any longer. He had to warn Rooney and Thomas, and he had to get those kids out of there.
Then he heard screaming from the house.
De
De
'Too bad you cops can't see this! You can kiss my ski
De
'Bang.'
He lowered the gun.
'Shit.'
De
De
'I guess that's it, then.'
He tossed the money into the air, watched the fluttering green bills fall around him, then called Kevin.
'Kev!'
Kevin didn't answer.
'Mars!'
Nothing.
'Shit!'
De
'Kevin, goddamnit, where are you?!'
Here the sonofabitch had begged to surrender, and now that De
'Mars!'
The voice from the other side of the kitchen startled him.
'What are you doing, De
De
'Where's Kevin?'
'He's not here.'
'Where is he? I need to see him.'
De
Mars took shape in the light. De
'Kevin left.'
De
'That doesn't help me, Mars. Is he in the security room, the office, what? I've got to talk to him.'
'He didn't want to stay here anymore. He left.'
De
'Wait a minute. Are you telling me that he left, as in went out the door and surrendered to the cops?'
'I overheard him talking to the girl.'
'SHIT! That FUCK!'
'I'm sorry, De
De
'Did he take those kids with him?'
'I don't know.'
'Jesus, Mars! Get upstairs and see! If he took those kids, we're fucked!'
Mars went for the stairs without another word, and De
'KEVIN!! You ASSHOLE!'
De
Thomas heard De
The shouting died quickly. Thomas waited for someone to come upstairs, but the hall remained silent. He decided that they were trying to sleep.
Thomas slipped back into his closet and returned to the crawl space. He thought about stopping in Je
Thomas let himself down through the ceiling hatch into the laundry room, climbing down from the hot-water heater to the washer to the floor. It was dark, lit only by some slight dim light filtering from the kitchen through the pantry. He had to use his flashlight.
Just as he reached the floor he heard De
Thomas hurried into the utility room. He cupped his hand over the flashlight and flicked it on again, just long enough to mark the spot in his mind where the gun box waited on the highest shelf. He rested the flashlight on the bench, then climbed onto the bench.
He went up onto his toes, stretching as tall as he could, but the box was still out of reach. He flicked on the light again, and spotted a gallon metal paint can at the edge of the bench. He pulled it into position, put one foot on it, and stepped up. The paint can creaked, but held. He stretched high again, and this time his hands found the gun box. He had it! Thomas pulled the box from the shelf, then lowered himself from the can and climbed down from the bench. His heart pounded with excitement. The box was a lot heavier than he had imagined! It felt as if a ca