Hot Rocks

bounds, have we, Laine, that I have to check?”
    “I don’t want to lose your friendship, or Jenny’s.” She had to take a steadying breath. “I don’t want to lose my place in this town. I wouldn’t be insulted if you checked, Vince.”
    “That’s why I don’t have to.”
    She needed a tissue after all, and yanked one out of the box behind the counter. “Okay. Okay. I know where another share is. I found out this morning. Please don’t ask me how I found out.”
    “All right.”
    “The key I took from Willy’s things is to a locker. I called Max as soon as I could to tell him. In fact, I was talking to him about it when I was in the park with Henry. They’re going to be turned in, too. That’s half of them. I can’t do anything about the other half. Max has leads, and he’ll do what he does. But once the half of the diamonds is back where it belongs, I’ve done all I can.
    “Am I going to have to move away?”
    “Break Jenny’s heart if you did. I don’t want your father in the Gap, Laine.”
    “I understand. This should all be taken care of by tonight, tomorrow at the latest. He’ll be gone.”
    “Until it’s taken care of, I want you to stay close.”
    “That I can promise.”
     
     
     
    By the time Jack crossed over into New Jersey, he’d come up with a dozen reasons why taking the diamonds back was a mistake. Obviously, this Gannon character was stringing his little girl along so he could cop his fat fee. Wasn’t it better for her to find that out sooner rather than later?
    And going back to Maryland might lead Crew back to Maryland, and Laine.
    Then there was the fact that turning over all those pretty stones fit him as well as a prison jumpsuit.
    Besides, Willy would’ve wanted him to keep them. A man couldn’t deny a dead friend’s wish, could he?
    He was feeling considerably better as he maneuvered through Atlantic City traffic. Enough to whistle cheerily between sips of his on-the-road Big Gulp. He parked in the lot of the strip mall and considered the best way out was to hop a flight at the airport and head straight to Mexico.
    He’d send Laine a postcard. She’d understand. The kid knew how the game was played.
    He strolled the walkway first, scanning faces, looking for marks, looking for cops. Places like this always gave him itchy fingers. Malls, shopping centers, little packs of stores where people breezed in and out with their cash and credit cards so handy.
    Day after day. The straights buying their puppy chow and greeting cards, sold to them by other straights.
    What was the point?
    Places like this made him want to fall on his knees and give thanks for the life he led—right before he helped himself to some of that cash, some of those credit cards and made tracks to anywhere else.
    He wandered into a Subway, bought a ham and cheese with hot pepper sauce to give himself more time to scope out the area. He washed it down with another big shot of cold caffeine, used the facilities.
    Satisfied, he crossed to the Mail Boxes, Etc., strolled to the lockers, slid in his key.
    Come to Papa, he thought, and opened the door.
    He made a sound, something similar to a duck being punched in the belly, and snagged the only contents of the locker. A piece of notepaper with a one-line message.
    Hi, Jack. Look behind you.
    He spun around, one meaty fist already balled.
    “Take a swing, I’ll deck you,” Max told him conversationally. “Think about running, consider that I’m younger and faster. You’ll just embarrass yourself.”
    “You son of a bitch.” He had to wheeze it, but even that had a couple of heads turning in their direction. “Double-crossing son of a bitch.”
    “Pots calling kettles only proves pots lack imagination. Keys.” He held out a hand. “Laine’s car keys.”
    In disgust, Jack slapped them into Max’s hand. “You got what you came for.”
    “So far. Why don’t we talk in the car? Don’t make me haul you out,” he said quietly. “We’d not only cause a scene that might bring the cops in on this, but Laine wouldn’t like it.”
    “You don’t give two damns about her.”
    “You’re right, I don’t. I give a hell of a lot more than that, which is why I’m not turning your sorry ass over to the cops. You’ve got one chance, O’Hara, and you’ve got it because of her. In the car.”
    Running occurred to him. But he knew his limitations. And if he ran, there was no chance to recoup the diamonds. He walked back out with Max, then