Free Grave Consequences by Aimée Thurlo

driveway, seeing only a dirty air filter on top, then glanced around the garage. “No, just trying to do my part. There have been a few break-ins in the neighborhood so we watch out for each other.”
    â€œYou can’t be too careful,” Charlie said, looking back at Al. “We ready to load up and get going? We’ve got another job before lunch.”
    â€œRight. Thank you for your diligence, sir. You’re an asset to the neighborhood,” Al said to the man, then turned and went back into the house.
    Charlie carried the box, which was a lot heavier than it looked, and loaded it into the van. The neighbor had wandered over to the sidewalk, and stood there watching as Al came out of the garage, the door closing behind him.
    A minute later, they drove off.
    â€œSuppose he’ll check up on us? He wrote down something onto that notebook of his,” Al asked as they pulled out into a major street and headed south.
    â€œI was just hoping he wouldn’t take out a cell phone and start taking photos,” Charlie said.
    â€œDidn’t think of that. Glad I’m not a burglar. Even when it’s all laid out, it can get complicated,” Al said.
    â€œAt least we didn’t have to shoot him,” Charlie mumbled.
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œJust kidding. Let’s stop once we’re clear of the neighborhood, take off that damn sign, and change out of these uniforms. Then you can drop me off at home before you get rid of this van and continue on with your criminal career.”
    *   *   *
    Charlie came in through the back and walked into the office an hour later in his business clothes—a cotton-blend short-sleeved shirt, brown slacks, and a thin, microfiber jacket that mostly concealed his backup Beretta. His matching 9mm model 92 was still in the APD forensic lab and it wasn’t the first time. The shooting had been declared righteous, however, according to DuPree, and he should be getting the weapon back in a few days.
    Ruth, who’d just come out of the storeroom across the hall, poked her head into the office just as he sat down. He stood as she entered. He’d been raised in a home where respect for women was not only a tradition—it was required.
    â€œGood morning, Charlie. How’d the breakfast go with your brother? You two get a chance to catch up?” she asked, smiling with that little crinkle with her nose he found so endearing.
    Gordon knew the truth and had already suggested a cover story. There was no need to spread the deception to Ruth or Jake. If something went wrong they wouldn’t be involved.
    â€œYeah, he’s working undercover on a case and needed someone to talk to. I’m not supposed to talk about it, though.” Charlie had discussed his family with Ruth from time to time and they’d gotten to know each other pretty well. There was a level of attraction between them that went unspoken and hadn’t been acted upon, and neither was ready to cross that line.
    Ruth was a single mother with a son, Ren é e, in kindergarten, and was living below the radar as much as possible. Ruth Adams wasn’t even her real name. She’d been in the witness protection program since the arrest and conviction of her ex-husband. Everyone at FOB Pawn knew the truth and they all did what they could to make sure Ruth and her son were safe.
    â€œMy lips are sealed, boss,” she said, then reached for her coffee cup. “I’m pouring, if you’re ready for another coffee,” she added, picking up the carafe.
    â€œSure, why not?” he said, grabbing his mug from atop the desk.
    Ruth and he finished their coffee while discussing yesterday’s transactions, then they went out to relieve Jake and Gordon, who were due for a break.
    At lunchtime, Jake walked Ruth down to the grocery to pick up shrimp salads—his and her favorite noon meals at the moment, so Gordon and Charlie got a chance to