the way to the Robertses'. None she recognizedjust dark shapes in the dim light. She went in the front hall and saw a pile of mail (days worth), on the floor, confirming that Lou hadn't been home for some time. She went through the living room into the bedroom, and thought about the night Bobby and Lloyd broke in, the night it all started.
Karen opened a drawer in the antique desk and found the letters and her grandmother's wedding ring. She decided to take some of the clothes she'd forgotten when she walked out. She went in the dressing room and got her small suitcase and put it on the bed and unzipped it and folded the top open. She went back in the dressing room, opened dresser drawers and grabbed a pair of jeans, her white shorts and a couple blouses. She couldn't see very well so she turned on a small lamp that was on top of the dresser, and picked up a pair of boots and a pair of shoes and took everything in the bedroom and laid it on the bed. She went back in and grabbed the pearls she'd bought herself at Tiffany's, and a couple necklaces and bracelets and turned off the light.
Ricky was in the back seat of the Escalade, watching Lou Starr's house on Walnut Lake for the second night in a row, talking to the Iraqis, Tariq and Omar. They were lucky tonight, someone was having a party, and it must've been a big one. There were cars parked down four or five houses.
Once Ricky realized Samir might not make it, and he was in charge, running the show, it was easy. He was the boss now and didn't have to take shit from anyone. All Samir's collectors: Romey, Saad, Joey, Nasir and now Moozie reported to him. They brought the money they collected and gave it to him, and he couldn't believe it. He was rolling in dough. He'd paid off Wadi Nasser, and still had plenty left over, and more was coming in every day.
Ricky was thinking about the night of the robbery. He'd heard a girl's voice, and that girl he believed was Karen Delaney. She had lived in the house, slept with the man for six months. She probably had an idea how much money was in the safe, and he wouldn't doubt it if she also knew the combination. He didn't know why Samir had hit her and knocked her down and thrown her out of the house, and then burned her clothes in the backyard, first dousing them with gasoline. His uncle wouldn't let anyone mention her name after that. Ricky was thinking, do that to a woman and she would be angry, and he believed an angry woman was capable of anything.
He had contacted the Iraqis a couple days after the robbery. He'd gotten Tariq's cell number from a friend at the Chaldean Social Club, realizing there was no one on his payroll qualified for this kind of work except O'Clair, and there was no way he was going to involve him. So who? And the Iraqis popped into his head. They'd be perfect.
He invited them to Samir's house, and received them in Samir's office, sitting behind Samir's massive oak desk, commanding authority and feeling good about himself. He was the boss now and the Iraqis gave him their full attention and respect as he laid out his plan to find Karen. He gave them photographs of her, shots Samir had taken on their many trips together, close-ups of her face, smiling, happy, white teeth, red hair cut short in one and longer in another, the photographs capturing her with unmistakable clarity.
The Iraqis, as it turned out, were interesting. Tariq told Ricky how they had left Baghdad on the second night of the American air strikes that shook the city, and believed, as did many of their countrymen, that the American weapons were far superior to anything Saddam had. They snuck out of the garrison, stole a car and drove into Syria.
Ricky said, 'How'd you get from Syria to Dearborn?'
'We drive to Damascus,' Tariq said, 'and then Beirut.'
'How far is that?'
Tariq looked at Omar and Omar said, 'I think is eighteen hundred kilometers, maybe two thousand.'
'And then what?'
'We take flight to Naples, Italy,' Tariq said, 'another to Amsterdam. From there, we fly to Toronto, Canada. My cousin drive from Dearborn to pick us up.'
Ricky was impressed. They'd traveled halfway around the world and made it look easy and he'd get lost driving through downtown Detroit. He liked these wacky Iraqis. That's how he thought of them: strange and weirdly formal, but they got the job done.
Ricky was watching the dark house and thought he saw a light go on in one of the side windows. 'Hey, you see that?' he said, looking through the space between the front seats where the console was. Tariq, behind the wheel, looked over his shoulder at Ricky.
'What is it?'
When Ricky looked back at the house the light was off. 'Someone's in there,' he said.
They got out of the Escalade, Omar had a crowbar in his hand, Tariq had a shotgun. Ricky walked behind them up the driveway to the two-car attached garage that had a glass-paneled entrance door. It was still hot at 10:30. Ricky had soaked through his nylon warm-up pants and tank top. He said, 'Be quiet. Try not to make any noise. We'll sneak in and see who's there.' He looked both of them in the eye when he said it, and they glanced back at him blank-faced like they didn't understand.
Omar turned with the crowbar and punched one of the glass panes out of the door, glass shattering on the concrete floor inside the garage. 'Hey, what did I just fuckin' tell you? Why don't you ring the doorbell, tell her we're here.'
Omar gave him another blank look and reached his hand through the busted pane and unlocked the door.
Tariq said, 'We go in now?'
'No,' Ricky said. 'I thought we'd stand here with our thumbs up our ass.'
The garage was empty except for the usual stuff: garbage cans by the door, rakes, brooms and shovels mounted on a wall, a wheelbarrow, snow blower. Omar stuck the crowbar between the jamb and the lock and popped the inside door open and they went in the kitchen.
Karen was putting clothes in the suitcase when she heard glass shatter and a loud bang that sounded like it came from the kitchen or family room. She walked into the living room and listened. Now it was quiet, not a sound. Maybe she was hearing things. Or maybe Lou was home. Then she heard hushed voices, and footsteps on the hardwood floor, moving through the house.
She ran back into the bedroom, glanced at the suitcase on the bed-there was no way-and went in the bathroom and locked the door, her pulse throbbing, heart banging in her chest. She had to get out of the house. The room had a white marble floor and white walls with a cathedral ceiling. There was a big tub in the corner of the room with windows on two sides.
She heard voices in the bedroom and then something with weight behind it slammed against the bathroom door. She was conscious of her own breathing, taking short quick breaths, trying to get air into her lungs. There was a loud bang as the sharp end of a crowbar punched a hole through one of the wood panels of the door. Karen stood in the tub, her body frozen, like an electric current was going through her, unable to move, unable to think.
The crowbar came through the door again, and she forced herself to pull the window up, and kick out the screen. She went feet first through the opening, dropped four feet to the ground, landed in a boxwood, lost her balance and fell over. She got up and crouched in the shadows. She could see the deck behind the house. There was no one on it, and she made a run for the lake, heading downslope thirty yards, thinking she could hide in the reeds till they were gone.
Halfway there she heard them come out of the house and looked over her shoulder and saw three men on the deck, coming down the stairs now as she ran toward the water and disappeared in the reeds that were taller than her, feet sliding in the muck. Karen stepped out of her sandals, squatting at the water's edge, trying to hold her breath, trying not to make a sound as they came toward her, crashing into the reeds. She got down on her stomach and felt the cool water soaking her blouse and shorts and lay there, trying not to move. She couldn't see them but could hear them thrashing around. And then a foot appeared and she looked up and saw a muscular guy in a tank top and dark track pants with white stripes, and recognized Ricky. He moved past her, and she caught a glimpse of a guy with a dark beard she'd never seen before. He looked in her direction, but didn't see her and kept moving. She slid into the water, knee-deep, waist-deep, and then dove down, gliding into cool depths.
Karen came up for air about twenty yards from shore and saw them on Lou's neighbor's beach. She was treading water, nose and eyes barely above the surface. She moved a few yards closer to shore and felt her toe touch the mucky bottom. She studied Ricky and the other two, who she didn't recognize, looking out at the lake. Karen knew they couldn't see her or they'd be in the water.
