Spencer felt a tap on the shoulder. He looked around to see Chris holding the certificate. “I think I’ve figured it out,” said Chris. “Insurance. We need so much insurance it’s coming out our asses.”

As they worked, Chris made Spencer run through everything he knew about McGrath’s operation, from day one when Spencer had made such an impression on everyone, especially Cal, to how the robbery was supposed to work. The brainstorming led to a plan, not the best of plans as there were way too many variables to inspire confidence, but a plan nevertheless.

That night Chris was careful to finish cooking before the Yo-Yo’s pizza arrived. The aroma from his buttermilk chicken was sublime and he knew it.

“There’s some left. If you want it, you better call it because this has been known to get my neighbors knocking on the door hunting for leftovers.”

And thus the Yo-Yo ate from the table of those he would kill.

As soon as the AtoB courier entered the Taco Bell, Spencer double-parked by his truck, got out, and grabbed the digital signing box off the dash. Then he was gone. The courier didn’t realize it was missing until his next delivery. He was dead certain he’d either left it at his last drop or it had fallen out of the cab. After all, who would want to steal it?

Later, with online assistance from a geek buddy in Kansas, Chris would learn how to master the box’s software without leaving a digital footprint. To anyone watching, though, as the Yo-Yo often was, it would seem he was just selling Thermo Booster Burn.

“Steak?” said the Yo-Yo.

“Yeah, big day tomorrow, right?” said Chris, clutching his Whole Foods bag.

“I want her in here with me.”

Neither Chris nor Spencer liked the thought of leaving Abby alone with the Yo-Yo, but there was no way he would allow all of them out of the apartment at one time. However, the situation had been anticipated. Spencer had taken her aside the previous night.

“I know it’s asking a lot,” he’d said. “I’m sorry, baby.”

She wiped a tear away but said nothing. She was trying valiantly not to cry. Her father spoke differently to her these days, and it made her want to be strong.

So Abby came when Chris called. She sat down at the opposite end of the couch from the Yo-Yo. Chris couldn’t look back as he closed the front door.

“Who’s playing?” asked Abby.

“You watch basketball?”

“Sure,” said Abby.

“Then you don’t need me to tell you who’s playin’.”

Abby felt her mouth go dry. She looked over at the wall clock and wished she could time warp the little hand into moving as fast as the big one.