Write about: the robbery.
After getting the first coat of paint on the door I went to our favourite local coffee shop while Kat hosted playtime for Max and his friend. I managed to get all caught up on comments, yet again. I won't bother making any promises as to how long that will last.
This afternoon I got started on this week's box harvest, collecting melons, squash, and potatoes. That leaves us mostly tomatoes to pick tomorrow morning, so that shouldn't be too bad.
I also got the second coat of paint on, but the full drying time is eight hours for that stuff so it won't be going back to the front of the house until tomorrow. Ah well, at least the nights haven't been getting too cold yet.
Sitting in the van two blocks from the bank, gripping the wheel so hard I was sure I'd leave permanent grooves behind when I eventually (if I) let go, I had never felt so alone and vulnerable in my life. I'd much rather have been inside with Tammy and Crystal but someone had to drive the getaway vehicle.
And that someone, thanks to my pulling the low card out of the deck Crystal had splayed across the coffee table two nights previous, was me.
Stupid bloody three of clubs.
I couldn't even see the front of the building from there. That was part of the deal, to keep suspicious activity (outside of the bank, anyway) to a minimum. Once I got the signal from Tammy I'd drive up, nice and slow and casual, they'd stroll out the doors and into the van, and away we'd go.
They had gone inside carrying enough rope and duct tape to hogtie a dozen football teams, so no alarm would be raised until the next customer arrived. Hopefully, if Crystal's homemade gadget worked like she claimed it would, to find the door locked. The girls had guns too, obviously, but they were more for show than anything.
We had no intention of getting caught but if we did none of us wanted to face a murder charge on top of all the stuff we'd already agreed to do.
That didn't mean they weren't loaded though.
I checked my phone again. Still no text. Tammy had it loaded and ready to go, her phone concealed in her coat pocket where nobody would see it. As long as none of the victims suspected that was how we were communicating the police would have no reason to check with the phone companies to see their logs. One less piece of evidence for the cops to go on.
That was the plan, anyway.
I looked down and my heart jumped up. I blinked once, then again. Read the words at least three times before starting the engine and tried to remember how to breathe. One last look down, just to make sure.
Time to go
I shifted the van into drive and hit the gas.