Cop Out

“Will you listen to me very, very hard?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“These people are going to take you somewhere in a car. You’re to go with them like a good girl.”

“Aren’t you and mommy going, too?”

“No, baby.”

“Then why do I have to go?”

“I can’t explain now. Let’s say it’s because I ask you to.”

Her lips began to quiver. “I don’t like them. Why are they wearing those masks? They’re hor’ble.”

“Oh, they’re just pretending something.”

“They have guns. They’ll hurt me.”

“I have a gun and I’ve never hurt you, have I?”

“No, daddy… “

“Come on,” Furia said. “Time’s up, like the screws say.”

“Wait a minute, Fure,” the woman said. “Let him explain it to his little girl.”

“They won’t hurt you, Bibby. I promise. Have I ever broken a promise to you?”

“No… “

“Remember, they won’t hurt you. And you do whatever they tell you, Bibby. Whatever. You may even have to pretend, too, the way you did in the school play.”

“Pretend what?” Barbara asked in an interested voice.

“Well, the chances are some policemen are going to stop the car. If they do you make believe you’re sleeping in the lady’s lap. If they wake you up and ask you questions, just say the lady is your mama and that’s all.”

“My mama? That lady?” She looked at her mother. Her mother looked at her.

“It’s just pretend, baby. Do you understand?”

“I understand, but not whyT

“Some day I’ll explain the whole thing to you. But for now you’ve got to promise me you’ll do whatever they say. Promos? ise:

“All right. When will they bring me back?”

“Oh, I don’t know. A day, maybe two.”

“Well,” Barbara said. “I don’t like to, but I guess I will. Goodbye, daddy.” She held her face up to be kissed. Valentine face. He kissed it. She jumped off his lap and ran to her mother.

Ellen held on to her.

“Okay, okay,” Furia said. Malone could have sworn he was grinning under the mask. “Let’s get the show on the road, like they say.”

“Ellen,” Malone said.

The woman walked over and pulled Barbara from Ellen’s clutch. Sexy figure, flashy getup, hard voice-maybe late twenties, though it was hard to tell without a face to go by. And brains, she’s the brains. I know her from somewhere. I’ve heard that voice before. A long time ago.

“Come on, honey,” the woman said. “We’ll have just buckets of fun.” She took Barbara’s hand. “Fure. It won’t hurt to buy insurance. With Barbara in the car, and you and her and me making like one happy family, it will look better if Hinch isn’t with us. That getup of his doesn’t go with the act.”

“What, what?” Hinch said.

“Goldie’s right,” Furia said. “You hoof it, Hinch. You can cut off that main road into the woods somewheres and stand a good chance of not even being stopped. If they stop you, so what? One guy on the hitch. Stow your mask in the car. Also the heater-I’ll drop it in the river before we get to the checkpoint. We’ll meet you at the shack.”

Hinch glanced at the Walther automatic in his hand. He’s not used to guns. Malone tucked the observation away. “If you say so, Fure. Not because of her.”

“I say so.”

“Goldie and you and the kid’ll meet me?”

“You worried about something?”

“Who, me? I ain’t worried, Fure.”

“Then do like I say. All right, Goldie.”

The woman immediately said, “We’ll be seeing you soon, mommy. Won’t we, Bibs?” and they marched out through the archway and into the hall and out the front door and, incredibly, were gone.

Furia backed his way out. At the door he said, “Remember, cop, that’s your kid we got. So don’t be a hero.”

And he was gone, too.

They were left alone with the black bag.

Standing at the window watching the Chrysler back around and straighten out and head down Old Bradford Road toward Lovers Hill.

Standing at the window until the sound of the Chrysler died.

Then Ellen whirled and said in a voice full of hate, “You great big policeman you. You cowardly sonofabitch, you let them take my Bibby away. You let them!” and she was punching his chest and sobbing and he put his arms around her and said in a hoarseness of baffled rage, “Ellen, they won’t hurt her, I’ll kill them, they want that money more than anything, don’t cry, Ellen, I’ll get her back.”

Thursday The Child

Malone spent the first two hours trying to get Ellen to go to bed. She just sat in the rocker rocking. He kept at it like a gung ho D.I. because he could think of nothing else. Finally Ellen said, “How can I sleep when my baby is in the hands of those murderers?” and he gave up.

At one thirty Malone said, “Would you like some coffee?”

“I’ll make some.”

“No, I’ll do it. You sit there.”

“I don’t want any.”

“Watch the bag.”

“What?”

“The bag. With the money.”

She stared at it with loathing. It was on the coffee table before the sofa. “How much is in it?”

“I don’t know. A week’s payroll for Aztec.”

“Count it,” Ellen said. “I want to find out how much my child’s life is worth.”

“Ellen.”

“It’s like an insurance policy, isn’t it?” Ellen said. “And I’ve been after you for years to take one out for Bibby.” She laughed. “For her college education.”

“Ellen, for God’s sake.”

“I know, we can’t afford it. Can we afford it now? Oh, never mind. Go drink your coffee.”

“I only thought-”

“All right. I’ll have some, too.”

He hurried into the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. When he came back she was counting the money.

“Over twenty-four thousand dollars.”

He looked at it.

“It’s a lot of money,” Malone said inanely.

Ellen grinned. “She’s a lot of little girl.”

He crammed the money back into the bag with trembling hands.

Neither took more than a few sips.

She kept rocking.