She’d already written an apology note for Pink for what she was planning. Stepping into the pantry, she pulled down the jar Mrs. Pink kept emergency cash in. There was a little over five hundred dollars inside, and Heather took it all, replacing it with the note and putting it carefully back on the shelf. She’d stuffed the cash into her jeans and turned to leave the pantry when she heard the stairs creak.

Someone was coming.

Sucking in a breath, Heather quietly pulled the pantry door closed and stepped as far back inside as she could, hoping that whoever was awake, it wasn’t because they were hungry, and they wouldn’t look inside the pantry.

“Gravy, I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Heather heard Pink’s voice, a whisper. He was talking to his partner, Graves, a man he always called Gravy. He’d probably come downstairs so as not to wake Mrs. Pink.

Footsteps told her that Pink was in the small kitchen, pacing from one end to the other.

“No, no, I get that. I’m being an old woman, but I can’t help it. I—”

The whisper stopped and so did the pacing.

“Hey, something’s up. The alarm panel just went dead. I saw the light wink out. No, it’s not the power—fridge is still on. I gotta go, man. Send me help.”

–––

The rain fell harder, and Royal pulled on gloves. His pulse increased, and he worked to calm the shudder in his hands. He was ready for this, he told himself. Failure was not an option.

Suddenly Devo was next to him, looking and smelling like a wet dog. “Child’s play,” he whispered. “Ice, baby, ice.”

He went to work on the back door and had it open in a matter of seconds. Once Royal stepped inside, he knew the next few minutes would change his life forever.

Devo moved in first, two steps ahead of Royal. And that was when it all went wrong.

“Boom! Boom!” The report of a gun sounded like a cannon, and Devo went down. Somehow, someway, the man had been waiting for them.

All instinct and reflex, Royal crouched and stepped to his right, firing back in the direction of the sound. He emptied his gun and heard a muffled “Oomph,” then a thud.

Breath coming fast and ears ringing from the gunfire, Royal stepped forward, Get the girl singing in his mind. A big man was down on the floor, moaning. Royal knew it was the police officer who lived here, the man hiding the girl.

Shoving his own small, empty .38 into his waistband, Royal ripped the man’s shiny revolver from his grasp and shot him again. The moaning stopped. He then pivoted toward the room off the kitchen, where they’d been told the girl would be.