Jack Beale 00 - Killer Run

pick-up sticks in the crowded aisle. As Alfred tried to catch himself he cleared off the nearest display case with his arm, adding to the mess on the floor.
    As soon as he was released, Malcom dove for the door, ignoring all the noise behind him.
    Alfred caught himself on the display case, which stopped his fall, then lunged forward in an attempt to catch Malcom. A sharp pain shot through his ankle when his leg became wedged between several of the umbrellas, and he fell forward over the fallen elephant leg and crumpled to the floor.
    Malcom reached the door just as Alfred fell. He turned back as he pushed the door open. Alfred was on the floor in a tangle of umbrellas, lying across an elephant’s leg. The whole situation might have been funny if it weren’t for what had just happened and all the adrenalin pumping though his veins. He stopped, looked at Alfred, and said, “Have it your way, but this is your only chance to reconsider and return what you took.”
    As Alfred looked up at him from the tangle of umbrellas, Malcom continued. “Two weeks. I’ll be back in two weeks to run the Rockdog, and that’s when you will give them back to me.”

CHAPTER 47
    “HOW’D IT GO?” ASKED POLLY when he walked in the door.
    “Okay.”
    “Did you get them?” She seemed puzzled at his short answer.
    “No. I didn’t, but I will.”
    “What happened?” she asked, concern creeping into her voice.
    “We talked. When I go down for the race, I expect that I’ll get them then.” It wasn’t entirely true, but it would do.
    “Great.”
    * * *
    “Hey Dave.”
    “Jack.”
    Dave pulled the car door open, and Jack cranked the heat back to high to overcome the blast of cold air that filled the car as Dave threw his bag and a cooler in the back seat and then climbed in up front.
    “Son of a bitch it’s cold,” he said as he rubbed his hands together. It was in the mid twenties, but sun and low forties were predicted by mid-morning.
    “No shit, Sherlock,” said Jack.
    The moon, having set earlier, left a cloudless sky still bright with stars. The weather channel had promised a perfect fall day. It was just after 4:30 A.M. and the race started at 6:00.
    “What did you bring for the aid station?” asked Jack.
    “I cooked some new potatoes, cut ’em in half, with a little oil and salt … and a bag of M&M’s.”
    “That’s all?” said Jack, feigning surprise.
    “What do you think?”
    Jack said nothing and shifted into gear.
    “I do have some adult beverages for after.”
    Jack smiled. There were some laws of the universe that you could just count on.
    “And you?”
    “Made a pan of double chocolate brownies.”
    “Nice.”
    Not much else was said during the forty-five minute ride to Ipswich.
    The highway had almost no traffic so it was a quick forty-five minutes. Arriving at the elementary school where the start was, they were still early enough to get one of the treasured parking places at the school, but there weren’t many left. It wouldn’t be long before the additional parking would be needed, which meant quite a hike back for those late arrivals.
    Despite the security lights around the school, they moved in a world of dark and shadows that was punctuated only by flashes of light from the cars of other arriving competitors, who circled, hoping to find a close-by place to park. As they unloaded Jack’s car, their breaths swirled about their heads in a way that was made all the more eerie by those circling flashes of light.
    In spite of that continuous stream of traffic and the soft muffled voices of other new arrivals, what struck Jack was how quiet it was. Maybe it was the cold. Maybe it was the early hour, or maybe it was just the daunting task ahead, but the usual pre-race noise and excitement was absent, replaced by a more subtle, sober, almost conspiratorial kind of murmur.
    As they rounded the corner of the school, things began to change. Ahead was the playground where they would check in, leave their bags, and add their donations to the aid table. Portable floodlights lit the area closest to the school, but you didn’t have to go too far away before darkness would swallow you up.
    Jack put his bag on the ground and pulled his coat close as he shivered. His fingers were already cold so he blew into his gloves in an attempt to warm his fingers.
    Dave dumped his bag on the ground next to Jack’s, looked around, and then said, “I’ll go check us in. Be right back.” Then he walked off.
    As