Acts of Nature

the place out. When they had what they wanted, they’d just open the door and drive away. In the past he’d left the two boys outside as lookouts, giving them a Nextel so they could beep him if anyone approached or things got hinky outside. This was the first time he’d given Wayne a shot at working the inside and he’d done it mainly so they could load the big stuff that he couldn’t hoist alone.
    While Wayne went back downstairs, Buck did the master suite. He’d lied. The best stuff was always in the bedroom. He went to the walk-in closet first, the boxes up high and then behind all the hanging stuff, looking for a wall safe. You never knew, especially in these new suburban places. Folks had jewelry passed down, coin collections, shit that was valuable like Granddad’s antique fishing rods were to him. He dug an old gray metal lockbox out from a spot back on the floor. Take it with, there will be time later to bust it open. From the closet he moved to the dresser. There was unopened mail to someone named Briand A. Rabideau tossed on top but nothing like a credit card app or something he could use. Inside the drawers he found the lady’s jewelry box, under some silk nighties. Why did they always think that was a place to hide valuables? Like some burglar is going to be shy about rooting through their underwear. Young Wayne already proved that theory wrong and he wasn’t even seventeen yet. Buck went through the box, took the necklaces and the rings, some good-looking stuff there, and then stripped the pillowcase off the bed and tossed the jewelry and the lockbox inside. Then he moved to the bedside nightstand drawers: lip balm, bottle of aspirin, warming jelly, and a wad of one-dollar bills. Buck pocketed the cash and muttered something about the lucky bastard. He pulled the drawer out full. They were always stashing stuff in the back. That’s when he saw the old-style .38 revolver. He stared at it a minute. Bobby the Fence always liked to deal guns. Good as gold, he always said. Acid off the numbers, they went like cash on the streets and among the woodsmen out in the Glades. But Buck disliked guns. Too many idiots without an idea how to use them. Gave them bullshit false courage. Fools rush in; he remembered that one from his grandfather. Buck was a planner. Guns made shit happen too fast.
    Bleep, bleep. The sound of the Nextel decided for him. He shoved the drawer closed and left the gun behind.
    Bleep, bleep.
    Pissed, Buck snatched the phone off his belt.
    “Goddamnit, boy. I tol’ you one signal was enough,” he said into the instrument.
    “I know but I think it’s the lady, Buck,” came the excited voice from Marcus, who was keeping watch outside. “I think it’s her car just came in down at the east end. Y’all ought to kick on outa there.”
    Buck was already at the top of the stairs and taking them two at a time.
    “Let’s roll, Wayne,” he called out but the other one was already ahead of him, with an armload of stuff from the den and heading through the kitchen for the garage door. Both of them dumped what they had into the open van doors and Buck jumped into the driver’s seat, keys still in the ignition. Soon as the engine cranked, Wayne hit the garage opener alongside the entry door and skipped to the passenger side and slid in. Buck eased the van out of the garage while the door was still rising, and just like they’d planned, Wayne turned in his seat and pointed the stolen signal back and flicked it. The door rolled back down and its seemingly undisturbed look would give them a few more minutes of getaway time before the owner discovered the burglary.
    Buck drove slowly out into the street and hung a left. Wayne looked sharply at him but was smart enough not to question why he was going in the opposite direction from the development’s entrance.
    “We’ll run us a circle. The lady’s gonna drive the shortest route, straight home. Better she don’t even pass by a white van today,” Buck said to answer the question that hadn’t been asked. They took another left and another and then paralleled the street they’d been working on for four blocks before Buck used the Nextel to get Marcus, who’d been instructed to use the backyards to make his getaway if they ever had to bail out of a house.
    “Meet us out on the main road,” Buck said into the handset.
    When they took another left at the entrance road, they both peeked down to the west to see if the woman’s car was in