P Is for Peril

Last night I stopped at the office. I looked across the alley and saw the door standing open."
    "What time?"
    "Seven, I think. Sometime around then."
    Tommy said, "Why didn't you call the cops?"
    "I thought it was Richard and he was showing the place."
    Tommy was sitting with his knees drawn up, shaking his head. "Jesus. You don't know how much trouble we're in. Christ, everything is gone. Every goddamn…"
    "Shut up, Tommy. She doesn't need to know. Let's get her out of here before someone shows up."
    "I'm sorry your valuables were stolen, but it wasn't me. I swear."
    "Yeah, well we're sunk, anyway. Wiped out. It's over."
    "Knock it off," Richard said, and hauled me to my feet. "You take her. I'll drive."
    "I'll drive. It's my truck."
    "Right." Richard locked his arms around me, pinning my arms against my body. He lifted me off the floor and walked me to the door, half-dragging me, half-carrying.
    I grabbed the doorframe long enough to get my feet down. I stiffened my knees, forcing him to halt. "Let me get my bag," I said, gesturing. I felt like a kid pleading for her teddy bear. Tommy leaned down and picked up my shoulder bag. He did a quick search, pawing through the contents. He found the Davis, checked the load, and tucked it in his pocket, tossing the bag aside. There went that hope. I glanced back, watching him turn the lights out and pull the door shut before he joined us on the patio.
    His truck was parked around the corner. Richard held my left arm, his fingers digging into me so hard I knew I'd bruise. The two of them crowded against me, walking in a lockstep that forced me to trot along. What were they going to do with me, rape, maim, and kill? What would be the point of that? If they took me to the house, I could scream my bloody head off and no one would hear.
    We reached the pickup truck. Richard opened the door on the passenger side. He flipped the seat forward and shoved me into the narrow space behind the seats, knocking my head against the frame in the process.
    I said, "Hey!" This was pissing me off. I managed to rub my head while I squeezed into the well. Tommy got in on the driver's side. The two doors slammed in quick succession like rifle shots. Tommy jammed the key in the ignition and the engine fired to life. He pulled out with a chirp that probably left a little skid of rubber on the pavement. I clung to the seat back, trying to assess the situation.
    For the moment, I was safe. Tommy was too busy driving to pay attention to me and Richard didn't have a sufficient angle to turn around and level more abuse. Rain was stinging against the windshield. Tommy flipped on the wipers.
    I said, "Where'd you have the safe? The place always looked empty to me."
    Tommy said, "In the closet floor, under the wall-to-wall carpeting."
    "Don't play dumb." Richard was bored.
    "How many people knew besides the two of you?"
    Tommy said, "No one."
    Richard snorted. "What's this, twenty questions? Would you give it a rest."
    "Who opened it last?"
    "Jesus, Tommy, this is bullshit. Are you buying this act?"
    "He did. We had something we wanted to sell. He goes all the way down to Los Angeles on Friday and there isn't any such dude. He thought I pulled a fast one and he was pissed."
    "When did he get back? Was it late?"
    "No, it wasn't late," Richard snapped, exasperated. "It's five o'clock. I go over to the office and put the piece back in the safe."
    "Everything else was still there?"
    "Of course it was. Now would you shut the fuck up?"
    "Maybe someone saw you with the stuff and followed you back. If they saw where the safe was hidden, they could have waited until you left and ripped you off."
    "I said, shut your mouth!" He raised his left arm, torqued around in the seat, and bashed me in the face with a backhanded swing. The blow didn't have much force, but it hurt like a son of a bitch. I felt tears burn my eyes. I put my hands across my nose, hoping he hadn't broken it. Didn't feel like that.
    Tommy said, "Hey! Cut it out."
    "Who put you in charge?"
    "Just leave her alone."
    "Why, because you're fucking her?"
    "He is not!" Who wants to be accused of screwing some guy you can barely tolerate? There was a moment of silence. Then, I said, "Anyway, how'd they get the safe open? Was it drilled?"
    "You are just not going to shut up, are you?"
    I thought the question was a good one, but I shut my mouth and leaned away from the front seat, out of range. The space where I was sitting was small and cramped, scratchy