“Really?” he said skeptically. “That’s it? No drugs or chemicals? No hacking into her phone to post deceptive updates on Facebook or something?”
“That is touching far too many things,” Grade said. “You don’t want to give whoever is on the case too many opportunities to do a good job.”
He loped off to grab the bags from the kitchen. There was visibly more urgency to his pace than there had been when they arrived.
Harry scratched his head.
“What if it doesn’t work?” he said. “What if they don’t buy it?”
Grade came back out, bags slung over his shoulders. He shrugged and nearly dislodged his backpack as it slid down his arm.
“To start with, I don’t offer a guarantee, and I have a no-refund policy,” he said as he hitched the strap back up into place. “But hopefully the local cops will prove to be just as useless now as they were when my dad died.”
Clay took one of the bags off him and dangled it from his hand.
“Odds are in our favor,” he said. “Me and Ezra aren’t exactly criminal geniuses, and the sheriff has never made anything stick.”
Harry snorted. “You remember I used to be a cop, right?”
“It’s not slipped my mind.”
Harry glared at him for a moment, then muttered under his breath as he got a balaclava out of his pocket and pulled it down over his face. It went on crooked, and he had to yank at the seams to get both eyeholes in the right place.
“Here,” Grade said. He held out another black mask. “I brought a spare.”
Clay gave the thing an aggrieved look. It wasn’t like he’d never worn one before, and that was the point. He knew what the wool and sweat would do to his hair. He’d worn enough of them when he was a SEAL.
But the choice was bad hair or a bad identikit of him on the news as the anchor asked, “Have you seen this man?” So…
He took it and pulled it on. Then he gestured at the door.
“Time to go,” he said. “Before luck runs out.”
Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He ducked out through the front door and loped toward the van. Clay started to follow him and then realized that Grade wasn’t at his heels. He turned back just in time to see Grade backtrack down the hall.
“What happened to ‘that’s it’?” he asked.
“I forgot something,” Grade said. He waved his hand dismissively. “Go on. I’ll meet you at the van.”
Clay glared at Grade’s back as he hesitated in the doorway. He did a quick mental calculation, and it turned out Grade’s ass was not worth jail.
“Idiot,” he muttered as he ducked out and ran for the van.
Harry was in the driver’s seat, mask pulled up to his forehead. He gave Clay a curious look.
“Where’s Grade?”
Clay paused in the middle of chucking the bag into the van. He squinted at Harry for a moment and then rolled his eyes.
“Guess.”
The bags went in, and he walked around the van to climb into the passenger seat.
“So, what?” Harry asked. “We just wait on him?”
“No,” Clay said. He pulled the mask off and tossed it onto the floor. “Either he hits his mark or he makes his own way.”
“What happened to ‘No Man Left Behind’?” Harry asked as he turned the keys in the ignition.
