Out of Sight

He saw Buddy near the end of the hall looking back this way, his arm raised now, waiting for him. He said, "Two-gun Foley.

What'd the Snoop do, pull on you?"

"He had it in mind," Foley said.

"Listen, Ke

"I'm go

"Something I've never done before, shoot anybody."

"You know he's got that shotgun."

"If you stand against the wall next to the door, reach over and turn the knob… You know what I mean?"

Foley slipped the pistol in his left hand into his coat pocket, put his back against the wall and looked at Buddy, standing now in front of the door. Foley's left hand reached for the knob.

He turned it. Buddy kicked the door, going in with it, and the shotgun blast blew him back into the hall-past Foley already moving into the doorway. He saw them bare, both sitting up in bed, Ke

Foley watched Midge, bare naked, jump up and drag the burning covers from the bed and saw Ke

Foley knelt over Buddy in the hall, felt his throat for a pulse and said, "Shit." He looked up to see Midge-the woman not caring she was still naked, or maybe not even conscious of it standing over him.

"He's dead," Foley said.

She gave that a moment before asking, "Where's Alexander?"

"In the closet," Foley said, getting up.

"But stay here. One of them's still around."

Karen stood inside the open front door. She saw cardboard boxes lying in the foyer and a man on the staircase, a big guy with a gun in his hand. At the sound of the shots from upstairs he had stopped and now didn't seem to know what to do.

Karen kept her eyes on him, both of them waiting, listening.

She heard movement outside, hurried footsteps in the packed snow, and then silence, and then a voice calling to her, "Karen?"

She saw the guy on the staircase turn at the sound and saw Foley, in that moment, in the open part of the upstairs hallway, looking over the railing at her. She moved then, fast, to the foot of the stairs, put her Sig Sauer on the guy turned to her and said, "Police. Drop it or you're dead. Right now, drop it." She watched the guy stoop in a land of awkward way to lay his gun on the stairs. He looked scared to death. She said, "Now come down," and saw Foley, at the top of the stairs now, watching her.

He said, "That's White Boy Bob. Honest, that's what they call him. The other two are dead." He paused.

"So is Buddy."

Karen said, "Don't move."

She brought White Boy across the foyer to the open door, to the uniforms and detectives standing in the drive. She saw Raymond Cruz in the light from the coach lamps and said, "There's one more. Will you let me bring him out?"

Raymond hesitated.

"Why?"

"I know him."

"He's a friend?" Sounding surprised now.

"I know him," Karen said.

Foley had come down to stand where the staircase made its turn. As Karen crossed the foyer to the foot of the stairs she saw him pull his knit cap down over his face and now he was wearing a ski mask.

She said, "Come on, Jack-don't."

"Pretend I'm somebody else."

"You think I'd shoot you?"

Foley brought the pistols out of his pocket.

"If you don't, one of those guys will. I told you, I'm not going back."

They were in the foyer now, behind her, Raymond Cruz and a half-dozen others lined up, watching.

"What're you now," Karen said, "a desperado? Put the guns down."

He raised them hip-high and she heard sounds behind her and was quick to raise her hand, though she didn't turn or look around. Karen took her time now. She said, "Okay, Jack," with almost a sigh, brought up the Sig Sauer in one hand and fired and he fell to the staircase, dropping the guns, grabbing hold of his right thigh. She turned to Raymond saying, "Wait, okay?" and went up the staircase to where Foley was lying. She sat on a step and carefully, gently lifted the ski mask and looked at his sad eyes.

"I'm sorry, Jack, but I can't shoot you."

"You just did, for Christ sake."

"You know what I mean." She said, "I want you to know I think you're a cool guy. I never for a minute felt you were too old for me." She said, "I'm afraid, though, thirty years from now I'll feel different about it. I'm sorry, Jack, I really am."

The poor guy, he looked like he was in pain.

Eight in the morning talking to her dad, Karen said, "They don't know yet if they want to bring him up on the homicides. I doubt if they will. The Bureau's put a detainer on him, so when they're through with him here he'll go back to Florida."

"Wouldn't it be something if they sent you to get him."

"It's possible."

"Have a nice time with him on the plane-like picking up where your interlude, or whatever you call it, left off. And then throw him in the can."

"He knew what he was doing," Karen said.

"Nobody forced him to rob banks. You know the old saying, don't commit the crime if you can't do the time."

"My little girl," her dad said, "the tough babe."