Stolen Prey

Lucas called the hospital about Albitis’s condition. The charge nurse said that she was still unconscious, but that the operation the night before had gone well, the bleeding had been less severe than expected, and she was now expected to recover “to some extent.”
    “What does that mean?” Lucas asked. “To some extent?”
    “Can’t ever tell, with cases like this,” the nurse said. “She could be fine. On the other hand, she could be a wreck. What usually happens is that they lose something, at the start, then they get most of it back. But you just can’t tell in advance.”
    U P IN THE APARTMENT , Kline stood next to the bathroom window, looking down, and saw the two cops come out of the apartment door and stand talking on the street. Then Davenport looked up at the window, and Kline pulled his head back. A fewseconds later, he peeked from behind the shade and saw them walking away down the street. He couldn’t see them turn the corner, but they didn’t come back, either.
    When he was sure they were gone, he went to the bedroom and asked the bed, “Did you hear that?”
    The bed said, “Yes. Are you sure they’re gone?”
    “They’re gone. The door’s locked.”
    Sanderson edged out from under the bed and said, “It smelled like something died under there. You might have mice.”
    “I’d be shocked if I didn’t,” Kline said. “So now what?”
    “First, I swear to God, I swear to God, I didn’t just attack Edie. She came after me with Daddy’s gun, for Christ’s sakes. I was lucky to get away from her.”
    “I believe you—but the cops won’t believe it,” Kline said.
    “I still don’t think they have enough to take me to trial,” Sanderson said.
    “We need to get lawyers.”
    “We can get lawyers, but I swear to God, if you drag me into this, I’ll take you with me,” Sanderson said. “I’ll tell everybody that you knew you were stealing drug money and that you’ve got it all hidden. Then these Mexicans
will
come after you. They
will
chop you to pieces.”
    “You don’t have to threaten me,” Kline said.
    “Yes, I do,” Sanderson said. “I can see you’re thinking about it, about a way out. I promise you, that’s not the way.”
    Kline wheeled himself around the apartment, ran both hands through his long oily hair. “Christ, I go around telling everybody that I don’t care how it comes out. I’m cool. I’m cold. Now, they’re talking about prison…. You know what I foundout? I don’t want to go to prison. I mean, I
really
don’t want to go to prison.”
    “Davenport’s just mean,” Sanderson said. “Mean and smart. But we’re as smart as he is, and we’ve got more to work with. We just have to fix things so he can’t get us.”
    “What about Edie?” Kline asked. “What if she wakes up and says, ‘Kristina hit me’?”
    “Then I’ll have to deal with that then. But I don’t think she will. Anything she says brings it back to her. Anything she says gets her deeper in trouble. Right now, she could say that she was buying gold for a Syrian buyer, some guy trying to get his fortune out of the country. She didn’t know who he was … nothing illegal with any of that.”
    Kline said, “For Christ’s sakes, Kris, nobody’s gonna believe that.”
    “They don’t have to,” Sanderson said. “All we need is for them to not have enough to put us on trial. Or not enough to convict us, if they do put us on trial.”
    “We need to get lawyers,” Kline said.
    “But what we really need to do, you and me, is sit down and figure out how we can get out of this mess. We’re smart. Let’s use it.”
    Kline cocked his head and said, “You don’t sound like a hippie anymore.”
    “And you don’t sound like a cynical depressive,” Sanderson said. “We’ve changed. We’ve become criminals.”

20
    W hen Lucas looked at his phone on the way back to the office, a note popped up on his calendar software: Cast, tomorrow, 9 am.
    The cast was coming off. Hallelujah.
    Kline called Lucas after lunch and said, “I’ve got an appointment with an attorney this afternoon. He said there’s no possibility that we can talk to you before tomorrow morning. Don’t do anything before then.”
    “I can’t promise,” Lucas said. “Whatever happens, happens.”
    “Please, don’t do anything. I gotta talk to the lawyer.”
    “Who is it?”
    “His name is Jay Keisler. I got a recommendation from a friend.”
    “I don’t know him,” Lucas said. “But