AS JAKE’S PHONE rang on the other end of the line, Casey sprinted down along the wall toward the garden gate. It was still ajar. When she got Jake’s voice mail, she tried Marty, peering into the garden and its own smaller wall with an arched entryway on the opposite side. The smell of tomato vines and dirt filled her nostrils. Marty didn’t answer his phone, either, and she stepped inside, moving slowly down a slate path between two rows of zucchinis. Something gurgled and hissed, and she jumped back, searching the darkness until she could make out the foggy mist of a sprinkler.
Beyond the garden wall and through the trees, she could see part of the mansion’s roofline and a smattering of lighted windows. Before she reached the stone arch, Casey heard shouts from the direction of the house. She stepped out of the garden as two figures dashed her way across a broad lawn. A second shout came from behind them, and three orange tongues of flame licked at the darkness, the thundering crash of gunshots hurting her ears. As she turned to run, Casey felt-as much as she heard-the thud of bullets striking the garden wall within her reach.
She stumbled and felt Jake’s hand snatch up her arm, dragging her toward the gate. On the sidewalk, Marty shot past them with a heavy cardboard filer thicker than a phone book under his other arm. They all piled into the car and hadn’t closed the doors before Jake stamped on the gas and they shot down the street.
“Are you kidding me?” Casey said, twisting around to watch out the back window. “That son of a bitch shot at us.”
“We thought we were going to get away clean,” Jake said, breathing hard and checking the rearview mirror. “They went in when we were sneaking out. We heard them shouting at each other after they opened the safe, and that’s when we just took off.”
“That Ralph,” Marty said, glancing over his shoulder as if he expected to see the old soldier chasing them down the street on foot. “Metal leg didn’t do much to slow him down.”
“He shot at us,” Casey said, again.
Jake hit a turn that tossed Casey into his lap. She straightened and pointed at the filer Marty clutched to his chest. “You got it?”
Marty nodded and undid the clasp, reaching into the filer and pulling a heavy ream of paper partway out. “Now we got to dig through it all.”
“Good thing you’re a CPA,” Casey said.
Jake nodded and continued to drive fast, checking the mirror constantly.
“Where we going?” Marty asked from the back.
“It’s your town,” Jake said. “I’m just driving. I figured you’d tell me. Someplace where they can’t find us. Preferably something with bulletproof walls.”
“He almost killed us,” Casey said.
“You keep saying that,” Jake said.
“I keep saying he shot at us.”
“Right.”
“I still can’t believe this.”
“Well, we know one thing,” Jake said.
“What?”
“Whatever’s in there is worth killing for.”