The Second Mouse - Archer Mayor [8]
Which, in a perverse way, it had been. They didn’t share the same trailer anymore, not since Nancy moved in four years ago, but Bennington had become home. Ellis had gotten his drinking under partial control, was renting a cheap place at the Willow Brook housing project, and worked legitimately, if part-time, more often than not.
Normalcy like that hadn’t been his in a long time, and he owed it, initially at least, to Mel—even if his covert feelings for Nancy were the only reason now that he hadn’t moved on.
Because that was the irony of his situation. While Mel had once been his salvation, Ellis knew that staying with him would eventually be his ruin. But he couldn’t leave, because of his love for the other man’s wife.
“Okay,” Mel told him, tugging at the box. “Let’s go.”
The relative coolness outside the attic hit Ellis’s damp body like a blast of air-conditioning. They were in Vermont, after all—not famous for hot weather—and the summer heat struck people here as snow does the average Houstonian.
They worked their way down to the hallway and silently approached the top of the main stairwell, both of them craning to hear the watchman’s by-now-familiar tread.
But there was nothing.
Giving Ellis a sharp nod of the head, Mel started down the stairs. This was the point of no return, as Ellis saw it—if their nemesis appeared now, they’d have nowhere to hide, and not only would they be caught red-handed inside a government facility, but they’d be carrying stolen guns as well. Of all the various awkward positions Mel had put them in over the years, this had to be an award winner.
Outside, Nancy had run out of cigarettes, which meant she would soon run out of courage. She twisted around in the driver’s seat, looking for Mel and Ellis, looking for the cops, looking for a way out that wouldn’t get her in trouble with Mel later.
She hated this part—the waiting. She was always stuck here. The wheel man, Mel called her, as if he were Machine Gun Kelly. Except that most of the time, all he did was eventually saunter up to the car with Ellis in tow, after Nancy had gone almost nuts, with a bag of stolen goods or his pockets full of till money, and tell her to head home, as if he’d just gotten out of the movies.
He didn’t need a wheel man. He needed a cab. And she needed to stop doing this. She was seriously beginning to lose her taste for it.
Mel and Ellis reached the second floor landing, still to tomblike silence. Ellis noticed that even the sounds of the surrounding town were muted. It was too quiet, as if all the world had taken cover, knowing that something catastrophic was looming.
Still in the lead, Mel held up his hand and lowered the box in slow motion, with Ellis following suit. It touched the floor with a tiny bump. Ellis straightened, holding his breath, confused, watching his companion’s back as Mel quietly positioned himself at the corner where the wall met the staircase leading down. Only then did Ellis hear the tired footfall he’d come to dread. As the watchman entered the stairwell below, the echo of his approach reverberated off the walls and ceiling. Ellis expected Mel to order a retreat again and began looking around for a place to hide.
Instead, Mel stayed put, waiting.
That wasn’t good. Mel was no pacifist. He never shied from a brawl. But it had always been his rule to bring no violence to an operation. There was less resentment all around, he said, if all you did was steal the money.
On the other hand, he wasn’t stealing money this time, and Ellis suddenly realized that all bets were off. The thought chilled him—was Mel about to expand how they appeared on the law enforcement radar scope? By association alone, was Ellis soon to become a serious felon? For a wild moment, quickly if regretfully overruled, Ellis was