attempt.
Jack froze. Dilated pupils reduced the visual field to a fuzzy, round blur. As he whirled to run for the gate, a lower section in the utility door swung upward. Stunned, half-blind, he braced to fend off the dog for whom the pet door was intended. What emerged was a pair of gloved hands, then a stocking-capped head, followed by slender shoulders clad in a dark, long-sleeved shirt.
Jack's wheezy "Hey, you" was like a starter's pistol at an Olympic hundred-meter dash. The burglar was faster off the blocks, but no match for a flying shoestring tackle. Rolling together on the wet grass, the intruder seemed to have six elbows, knees, an extra set of teeth and no compunction against using them.
Jack's fist hauled back to knock the son of a bitch into next Wednesday. Wrenching away, the burglar's cap fell off. A tangle of long, sweaty hair unfurled like a tent flap.
"Holy" He squinted at the glowering eye and face behind that hirsute veil. "Dina?"
She kneed him in the groin, tucked, pushed up and took off.
Cursing and cupping his crotch, Jack ape-loped after her.
She was scaling the rock wall when he grabbed her shirttail. Yanking her backward on her butt, he straddled her, detonating fresh, all-inclusive paroxysms of pain.
"Give it up, damn it. I don't wanna hurt you."
Squirming like a ninety-pound wildcat, she panted, "Lemme go. I didn't take anythingI swear I didn't. Just let me get out of here and I promise, I'll never do it again."
"Gee," Jack grunted. "That's original."
"I won't. " With her wrists pinned to the ground, a gloved finger motioned the sign of the cross. "I'm not really a thief"
"Also original." Jack's head cocked at a siren wailing in the distance. By Dina's expression, she heard it, too.
"Please, Mr. McPhee. Don't turn me in to the police. At least give me a chance to explain."
Explaining his presence to the cops wasn't at the top of Jack's personal hit parade, either. The original plan was to tail the thief home, then tip the police. Nice, neat, unquestionably legal.
The part-time dog groomer and presumed Calendar Burglar he was sitting on could implicate him in the thefts to plea-bargain the charges against her. Or charge, if she couldn't be tied to the prior burglaries. Jack's contract with National Federated Insurers should be a nol-pros on an accessory rap. As a rule, he preferred to not mix business with felony arrest warrants.
"C'mon," he said, lurching to his feet, then pulling her up. With her arm clamped in a "don't mess with me" grip, he grabbed the stocking cap, then ran for the side gate.
Struggling to keep up, she cried, "Where are you taking me?"
"My car." He shot the gate latch with a fist, then kicked it shut behind them. "Then as far away from here as we can get."
Floodlights above the garage and entry door blazed like a locomotive's headlamps. He steered Dina into the remaining shadows, the siren they'd heard was louder and closing in fast.
Then it stopped. Silence didn't exactly descend. Not with Jack's pulse hammering in his ears and his undertall captive huffing, "The cops must've gotten another call."
"Uh-uh, kid. This is high-roller holler. Siren en route, only."
The one thing he'd done right all night was leave the driver's door unlocked. Jack pushed Dina inside, crammed in behind her and slammed the door. The childproof locks clicked a nanosecond before she jerked the passenger's door handle.
A jittery red halo rose above yonder hill. Jack keyed the ignition, shifted into Reverse and floored it. A hard crank to the right and a sharp left whipped the sedan into an adjacent Tudor's circle driveway. Jamming the car into Park and killing the engine sufficed as brakes without any taillight flash.
"Hit the deck," he said. "And stay there."
To his astonishment, Dina slid off the
Jack froze. Dilated pupils reduced the visual field to a fuzzy, round blur. As he whirled to run for the gate, a lower section in the utility door swung upward. Stunned, half-blind, he braced to fend off the dog for whom the pet door was intended. What emerged was a pair of gloved hands, then a stocking-capped head, followed by slender shoulders clad in a dark, long-sleeved shirt.
Jack's wheezy "Hey, you" was like a starter's pistol at an Olympic hundred-meter dash. The burglar was faster off the blocks, but no match for a flying shoestring tackle. Rolling together on the wet grass, the intruder seemed to have six elbows, knees, an extra set of teeth and no compunction against using them.
Jack's fist hauled back to knock the son of a bitch into next Wednesday. Wrenching away, the burglar's cap fell off. A tangle of long, sweaty hair unfurled like a tent flap.
"Holy" He squinted at the glowering eye and face behind that hirsute veil. "Dina?"
She kneed him in the groin, tucked, pushed up and took off.
Cursing and cupping his crotch, Jack ape-loped after her.
She was scaling the rock wall when he grabbed her shirttail. Yanking her backward on her butt, he straddled her, detonating fresh, all-inclusive paroxysms of pain.
"Give it up, damn it. I don't wanna hurt you."
Squirming like a ninety-pound wildcat, she panted, "Lemme go. I didn't take anythingI swear I didn't. Just let me get out of here and I promise, I'll never do it again."
"Gee," Jack grunted. "That's original."
"I won't. " With her wrists pinned to the ground, a gloved finger motioned the sign of the cross. "I'm not really a thief"
"Also original." Jack's head cocked at a siren wailing in the distance. By Dina's expression, she heard it, too.
"Please, Mr. McPhee. Don't turn me in to the police. At least give me a chance to explain."
Explaining his presence to the cops wasn't at the top of Jack's personal hit parade, either. The original plan was to tail the thief home, then tip the police. Nice, neat, unquestionably legal.
The part-time dog groomer and presumed Calendar Burglar he was sitting on could implicate him in the thefts to plea-bargain the charges against her. Or charge, if she couldn't be tied to the prior burglaries. Jack's contract with National Federated Insurers should be a nol-pros on an accessory rap. As a rule, he preferred to not mix business with felony arrest warrants.
"C'mon," he said, lurching to his feet, then pulling her up. With her arm clamped in a "don't mess with me" grip, he grabbed the stocking cap, then ran for the side gate.
Struggling to keep up, she cried, "Where are you taking me?"
"My car." He shot the gate latch with a fist, then kicked it shut behind them. "Then as far away from here as we can get."
Floodlights above the garage and entry door blazed like a locomotive's headlamps. He steered Dina into the remaining shadows, the siren they'd heard was louder and closing in fast.
Then it stopped. Silence didn't exactly descend. Not with Jack's pulse hammering in his ears and his undertall captive huffing, "The cops must've gotten another call."
"Uh-uh, kid. This is high-roller holler. Siren en route, only."
The one thing he'd done right all night was leave the driver's door unlocked. Jack pushed Dina inside, crammed in behind her and slammed the door. The childproof locks clicked a nanosecond before she jerked the passenger's door handle.
A jittery red halo rose above yonder hill. Jack keyed the ignition, shifted into Reverse and floored it. A hard crank to the right and a sharp left whipped the sedan into an adjacent Tudor's circle driveway. Jamming the car into Park and killing the engine sufficed as brakes without any taillight flash.
"Hit the deck," he said. "And stay there."
To his astonishment, Dina slid off the
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