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alive." Lord, let him finally grasp the seriousness of our problem.
He patted her on the cheek, an absurd gesture of reassur-ance. For
all his strength and intelligence, Jonathan could be maddeningly
guileless.
The five minutes passed without a sign of trouble. Patricia allowed
herself some small hope. She was going to get them out of this. One day
soon, she would have a little room somewhere and a decent little job and the
exotic luxury of this man as her husband.
Or was that more than this particular ordinary garden-variety mutant had a
right to ask?
She drew him close to her; she could smell his golden body in the dark. He
smelled so sweet, so unlike the stench of a normal human being on a hot night.
She felt her own body singing with desire. His hand came under her
chin and turned her face to his. There was nothing wrong in that; kisses were
silent. . The mutants find one another attractive. Of course.
So many lonely years were being erased by his kisses, a whole girlhood of
desolate tea-dances with the
Saint Dominic boys. But we orphans did not want other orphans, we wanted
princes. How we dreamed, we wizard-frogged princesses.
Somewhere a dog howled. Both of their heads turned toward the
distant noise. But it was far away, blocks and blocks. A bird muttered a
reply. The air moved a little, and a few leaves whispered.
She gave his shoulder two quick taps and nodded her head. They rose
up from behind their bush and trotted into the Banion side yard. Although
Patricia did not know the place as well as he, she did not let
Jonathan lead even here. She took out her pistol, flicked off the rather stiff
safety catch. For some reason its presence in her hand was a little
embarrassing; she held it down where Jonathan could not see. It implied a kind
of commitment to what they were doing that she was not entirely sure she
wanted him to perceive. It might scare him.
She hefted the gun a little, preparing to enter the house.
They reached the back door that led into the garage. Jonathan took out his
keys and opened it. There was a deafening squeak, then they were in, brushing
spider webs from their faces. The garage was black; too bad they didn't have a
small flashlight.
Jonathan's hand come into hers. "I'm scared, hon, to be frank."
"We'll be all right. Just keep on."
"If we get caught "
"We'll back each other up. Better to be caught here by Mike and your mother if
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we're going to be caught at all."
A hard squeeze of the hand communicated heartfelt as-sent. A few
steps into the garage Patricia realized Mike's car was gone. All to the
good. One less person to wake up.
They went through the shadowy kitchen, past the hanging plants and the
gleaming appliances Patricia had once so admired, through the dining room with
its wonderful antique table and chairs, and into Mike's den.
Here were loungers and a dartboard on the wall and a case of books about
police work. Here also a big television for the weekend games and a desk
for the weeknight work. The room spoke Mike Banion and made Patricia feel
sad for the friendship that had to die. Without her and Jonathan Mike was
going to be a very lonely man.
"I think we might find something in the desk." Jonathan lifted up the blotter.
He withdrew the key from a little leather slit on its underside. Clever hiding
place, and fortu-nate that Jonathan knew about it.
There was a money clip of twenties in the top drawer. Six of them. Jonathan
pocketed it.
"Hot money," he whispered. He tried to smile but it was obvious he felt as
unpleasant about this as she did. She took a deep, calming breath, and
calculated. They now had a hundred and fifty-six dollars. It wasn't
enough. They had to go upstairs.
As Jonathan knew the house so much better than she, there was no choice at
this point but to let him lead the way. She had no faith in his innocent
skills as a burglar. She stopped him at the foot of the stairs. "If she wakes
up, do you know what to do?"
"Run like hell."
"No! That's how you get caught. You stand absolutely still and don't [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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