The Heart Heist

by Alyssa Kress

  ~~~

  Gary closed the door of his borrowed car and leaned his forearms on its roof. The empty field smelled of hay and freshness. He breathed in deeply, holding it in his lungs for a long time. One of the small but consistently oppressive things about prison was the smell. It got to you, the smell of confinement, the smell of fear.

  Slipping the car keys into his pants pocket, Gary turned and looked down the slope at the town of Freedom. It was even smaller than he'd imagined, nothing more than two blocks worth of shops along the highway and then maybe a square mile grid of graceful old houses, split on either side of that highway.

  A faint shimmer of apprehension went through him. He was on his own now. The real test was here. The real test wasn't about finding the security problems at the DWP facility. It wasn't even about taking care of that federal agent's agenda.

  The real test was if he could fight temptation.

  Even now, barely ten minutes into town, he felt the urge to saunter down and calmly case the place. But Gary knew where that was coming from. He knew the urge meant he was feeling out of control. Stealing was a way of gaining control; it was a way of creating and possessing a situation in such a way that no one else could interfere.

  But knowing didn't necessarily mean he could stop himself. Hell, he'd been stealing things since he was about five years old. What made him think that now, after a consistent thirty years of such behavior, he was going to change?

  Turning deliberately from his view of the town, Gary closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. That wasn't the way to think. The past was past. He had to take it one day at a time. One minute at a time. Breaking it down like that was the only way.

  With shaking hands, Gary got a packet of cigarettes out of his front shirt pocket. He leaned his back against the car as he shook one out. Hey, so far he was doing just fine. He'd even obeyed an officer of the law and moved his car out of the way. In fact, the home-grown parade was still filing down the closed main street.

  From here he could see a bunch of kids on tricycles struggling past the city hall. Behind them a girl pulled a wagon full of what looked to be bunny rabbits.

  Gary couldn't help it; he was smiling again, just as he couldn't have helped smiling when he'd caught a load of Kerrin Horton in her Old West gown. The dress had gone up to her neck and down to her ankles but still couldn't conceal that she didn't have a single curve on her willowy girl-body. And the sun bonnet ‑‑ well, it was way too late for such precautions; he'd seen the little copper-colored freckles that already danced across her nose.

  Damn but she was young, which made the lustful dreams he'd been having about her all the more reprehensible. Ah, but a man couldn't help what he dreamt, could he? Especially since Marty had been less than accommodating about giving Gary enough rope to find a real woman in Bishop. A true prince, Marty was. Now that Gary was in Freedom, finding some willing body to satisfy his long suppressed physical needs was going to be difficult, to say the least.

  It was a given that everyone in town ‑‑ Kerrin included ‑‑ would find out about it.

  Gary frowned and fit a cigarette into his mouth. No, he couldn't imagine climbing into bed with some chick and knowing the lady mayor would be hearing all about it the next morning. And as for Rogers' bright idea Gary should take Ms. Horton to bed herself ‑‑ well he could forget it. Gary shook out the match he'd used to light his cigarette.

  He might be a thief and a convicted felon but he wasn't a cold-blooded seducer. He'd never harmed a woman in his life and he wasn't about to start now.

  ~~~

  Kerrin was pretty sure he was going to kill her.

  Given the rumors started at the parade, she'd spent the last two hours searching for Gary Sullivan ‑‑ in vain. He seemed to have disappeared into thin air. Kerrin wondered if vanishing was another one of his talents, like breaking into places. As she traipsed through the park ground full of picnickers, she knew she had to find him soon, before he inadvertently blew his cover in town.

  Everyone asked her about the new summer school teacher. Mary Gibbons wanted to know if he'd accept her fifteen-year-old son in the sixteen-year-old class. Ben Thomas wanted to make sure he didn't encroach on his son's softball practice.

  No one ‑‑ no one ‑‑ questioned that such a person existed, nor that he had arrived in town that very day. And everyone wanted to meet him. Gary was just going to love that.

  He was going to kill her, slowly and thoroughly.

  Kerrin turned in a circle, taking in the families scattered under the towering pines in the campground, the long tables of barbecue and apple pie for sale, the ribbons flying where the contests would be held. Where in the world could he have gone?

  A tingling sensation went up her spine. She stopped, slowly turned. He was standing at the end of the line for fried chicken ‑‑ she could swear he hadn't been there a moment ago. As soon as her gaze met his, he quickly turned forward, studiously ignoring her.

  How best to handle this? Kerrin wondered, biting her lip. She had to lure him away from the crowd before he caught on to the mess she'd made.

  Kerrin was on the verge of some brilliant, if complex, scheme when she saw Mary Gibbons, proud mother of that precocious fifteen-year-old, eyeing the stranger with far too much interest.

  Kerrin started forward even as Mary Gibbons began to bear down on the alleged summer school teacher. Moving quickly, Kerrin made it to the unsuspecting felon a fraction of a second before the anxious mother.

  "Why Mr. Sullivan," Kerrin gushed breathlessly, making Gary jerk up his head with astonishing speed. "Where have you been? I've been looking for you high and low."

  Gary just had time to shoot her a dirty look before Mary Gibbons opened fire. "Oh, Mr. Sullivan, Mr. Sullivan, we do so need to talk." Imploring thusly, Mrs. Gibbons laid a hand on Gary's forearm.

  His eyes widening, Gary took a step back. Mrs. Gibbons, undaunted, pressed closer. "It is so important for Bobby not to be held back this summer," she told him. "I hope you're not of the school that makes a virtue out of sticking to formality."

  Kerrin turned to Mary Gibbons with her best parent-teacher smile. "I'm sure you don't mind, Mary, but Mr. Sullivan and I have a great deal to discuss. So much to take care of in so short a time."

  Mary Gibbons' eyes went from one of them to the other, taking in Kerrin's too-bright smile and Gary's carefully restrained rage. "Oh, I see," she pronounced, smiling coyly. "Of course, I'll talk to Mr. Sullivan later. You will bring him back now, won't you dear?" she addressed Kerrin.

  If he isn't on his way to Mexico, Kerrin thought as she dutifully nodded her head. "I promise." Then, as Mary Gibbons turned away, Kerrin added for Gary's ears alone, "We have a little problem."

  "So I noticed." His brown eyes were sparking ireful red tints. "What the hell is going on?"

  Groaning softly, Kerrin gave a brief, flicking glance around them. "Let's get out of here."

  ~~~

  Gary apparently didn't follow Kerrin fast enough as she led the way, because she took his hand. Her hand was small and soft. Incredibly delicate. That hand almost made Gary forget he was going to wring her little neck. She'd promised she would pretend she didn't know him. Apparently a promise made to a convict didn't hold much weight with a respectable citizen like Kerrin Horton. Well, Gary would let her know just what he thought of that double standard. In a few minutes, when she wasn't holding his hand any more.

  Kerrin led Gary down a narrow creek bed away from the populated picnic grounds. The creek couldn't have been more than a foot across but it had cut a deep bank through the soft soil. Soon they were completely isolated from the others. There wasn't a sound but the mild gurgle of the stream and the rustle of small creatures in the pine needles carpeting the ground.

  Kerrin turned to face him, her skin lightly flushed with a tinge of peaches high on her cheekbones.

  "Gary, I'm sorry, I truly am." At some point she'd lost the sun bonnet and her hair, a tawny wheat color, fell around her fa
ce in disobedient curls. Her hands twisted together in front of her. "I swear I didn't mean for this to happen."

  "What?" Gary questioned curtly. "What happened?"

  She looked away from him. "There's, uh, a rumor going around."

  "A rumor? About me?" Gary didn't see how this was possible. He'd barely talked to anyone since hitting town. For the past two hours he'd been taking a walk around the facilities of the Department of Water and Power, taking advantage of the holiday desertion of the area. He hadn't seen a soul and, he was quite sure, not a soul had seen him.

  But Kerrin, looking dismal, shook her head. "I don't know how it happened, but, um, well, everyone seems to think you're the summer school teacher."

  Gary frowned. "The summer school teacher?" This made about as much sense as pigs flying.

  Nevertheless Kerrin swallowed deeply and nodded. "Yes, yes, I'm afraid that's what they think."

  "I'm not the summer school teacher," he told her, quite stupidly.

  "I know. Yes, I know that."

  "I don't want to be the summer school teacher." He felt hot under his skin. Things were spinning out of his control. It was everything he'd been afraid of.

  She looked up at him with embarrassed misery in her eyes. "Believe me, I don't want you to be the teacher, either."

  "Great." He let out a disgusted breath and ran a hand through his hair, turning away from her. She looked scared and distressed and he knew he wasn't making it any better. But how had she managed to do this to him, dammit! Fear and helplessness started to rise in his throat. "Tell me how this rumor got started."

  Kerrin hesitated, and her gaze dropped to Gary's hands, which curled into powerful-looking fists before flexing out again. She was quite sure he wouldn't mind using those hands to wrap around her neck. "I ‑‑ it might have been...partly...my fault. You see, I used that as an excuse the day I went to visit you at Chino, and again the other night when I met you in Bishop. I ‑‑ I told my brother Matt I was interviewing someone for the position of summer school teacher." She frowned. "But for the life of me I can't figure out how the connection was made between you and this imaginary teacher."

  Gary groaned. "That hardly matters, I suppose. How many people think this?"

  Kerrin closed her eyes. "Pretty much the whole town."

  He groaned again, deeper. "You're going to have to set them straight."

  "Set them straight ‑‑ how? By telling them who you really are?"

  Gary turned aside then and swore; softly and viciously and more completely than Kerrin had ever heard in her life. She leaned against a boulder and folded her hands in her lap. It was just steam, she told herself, though it was pretty damn hot steam. She let him finish his tirade and then gave him a few minutes to cool down.

  Meanwhile, guilt ate at her. It was her fault his cover was blown. Her fault if he didn't get a chance to earn his ten year reduction. On the other hand, there was one possible solution.

  "You should do it," she said. "Be the teacher."

  He turned on her. "What?!"

  "It's not my first choice, either, Gary. Heaven knows what would happen to my job if the State Department of Education found out who I hired, but there's too much inertia here. It's impossible to backtrack."

  He stared at her out of animal, angry eyes.

  "And if you look at it logically," Kerrin went on, gathering enthusiasm, "this job could solve a lot of our problems. I mean, it gives you the perfect excuse to be in town, and it's only three hours a day. Of course, that doesn't count preparation time ‑‑ "

  "Enough." Gary's voice, though not loud, cut her off. He walked a step closer to her, tipping his head. "Has it occurred to you that I am not a teacher ‑‑ that, in point of fact, I am very far away from being a teacher?"

  "No. I mean, yes, of course it's occurred to me." Kerrin flushed. "But you wouldn't really have to teach. I have all the lesson plans from when I taught the course myself last year. All you'd have to do is follow those. It's almost like...babysitting." She paused. "I'd help."

  "Just what I need," Gary sneered, "your help."

  Kerrin bit her lip, watching as he turned away and looked bleakly out into the forest.

  "Dammit," he whispered.

  But she could almost see his mind working, revising, calculating. Her first impression of him was that he had remarkable innate intelligence. It was that impression, together with the way he'd worried about her arriving safely home the other night, that had decided her to propose he actually take the class. Marty was right. Gary wasn't dangerous. Or rather, he wasn't violent. And...she wanted him to have his chance.

  At length he turned to her, his gaze wary. "Just what is this class I'm supposed to be teaching?"

  "Health."

  "Which means ‑‑ what?"

  "Um, well. That would include your basic personal hygiene, dental health, diet and, uh, of course...sex education." Kerrin winced at this last subject on the list, knowing it was her own personal bane, but Gary seemed to find that the only redeeming feature of the business.

  "Sex, hmm. Well, at least that's one topic I know about. I suppose there are books."

  Kerrin was bewildered. "About sex?"

  "For the class."

  She brightened. "You're going to do it, then?"

  He gazed off into the distance. "I've done a lot of stupid things in my day, but this is definitely going down as the dumbest of them all." He looked back at her. "When does the class start?"

  Kerrin's face fell. This was the worst part. He would only have four days to prepare ‑‑ and she knew he had other things he was supposed to be doing. "Monday."

  But all he did was sigh, as though this was exactly what he'd expected. "Monday," he repeated. "Right."

  ~~~

  Matt watched his sister disappear up Miner's Creek with that man in tow. It had taken all of his considerable skill with the wheelchair to avoid her for the past two hours, but it had been worth it. Hot damn. Now she was going to have to hire him.

  Matt had known the man was the one she'd gone to meet in Bishop and L.A. the moment he'd seen the two of them looking at each other down the parade route. Hell, the whole world had seen the way they'd looked at each other. The air, hot as it already was, had sizzled. Matt hadn't seen that kind of repressed passion off a movie screen, and to think this was his crazy old maid sister ‑‑ with a man like that! A real one this time, not like that wuss, Victor Bothmann, from last winter.

  The man Matt had seen his sister lead by the hand up Miner's Creek was absolutely perfect for her. He was good looking, had a great body, and at a glance one could see he had the kind of character ‑‑ a strong one ‑‑ that could handle his sister's bouts of kookiness.

  "Hey, Matt, how's it going?"

  The young female voice brought Matt's head around in surprise. When he saw Cheryl Bloch standing just a few feet from him, his surprise expanded to downright shock. Up until one second ago, Matt was sure Cheryl hadn't known he was alive. She was dressed in a pair of extremely short cut-off jeans and her generous breasts were hugged by a clinging tank top that left little to the imagination, including the location of her hard, pert nipples. Blond hair the color of the sun fell in a soft wave over her shoulders. She was giving him one mankiller smile.

  Matt swallowed. Desperately, for the sake of not appearing like an idiot, he attempted to quash the hours of useless fantasies he'd spun around Cheryl Bloch and those big soft breasts of hers. "It's goin' fine, Cheryl. What about you?" How was that for brilliant conversation? And Matt thought Kerrin was a hopeless case.

  Cheryl turned and nodded in the direction Matt's sister and the man had taken. "Say, have you met the summer school teacher yet?"

  Matt caught the wanting gleam in the girl's eye with crushing disappointment. Ah, now he understood her sudden interest in his existence. "I didn't think you were going to go to summer school," Matt pointed out, at the risk of revealing how much he'd researched into Cheryl's affairs.

  Turning a lock of s
un gold hair around a finger, Cheryl released a deeply tormented sigh. "I wasn't going to. I was planning to spend a month at my friend's house in Santa Monica, beaching it every day. That would have been cool, but then my mom said no way." Cheryl rolled her eyes. "She was worried about men." The way Cheryl pronounced the word left no doubt but that her mother's concern was with just cause.

  "That's a bummer," Matt politely agreed, then zeroed in on the information he wanted. "So, are you going to summer school?" His own views on attending the summer session were undergoing a rapid reversal. From a vantage point inside the classroom he'd be able to monitor and make any necessary adjustments to the relationship his sister was sure to try her best to mess up. And if Cheryl Bloch was going to be there too...?

  "Oh, I guess so," Cheryl pouted, twirling the next lock of hair onto her finger. "Though it's really a drag, don't you think?"

  It was occurring to Matt that Cheryl's conversation lacked as much brilliance as his own.

  "Oh!" She suddenly squealed, catching sight of Rob Bollonoff, reputed to become next year's football captain. With a very brief noise of farewell, she was off.

  From his wheelchair, Matt watched as Rob absently threw an arm about Cheryl's waist. Even if Cheryl would have let him, Matt couldn't have managed such a seemingly simple gesture.

  Quickly, Matt lowered his eyes from Rob's innocent superiority. It wasn't Cheryl's fault and it wasn't Rob's that Matt was a freak. Remembering his accident caused a wave of horrible guilt to assail him. Only by staring down at his legs and reminding himself he was paying for his guilt every day was Matt able to make the heavy tension in his chest recede.

  With a deep breath, Matt picked up the newspaper laid in his lap. Breathing out again, he automatically turned the newspaper to the tiny little article that was all they'd thought worthwhile to print about Mr. Holiday.

  Another freak.

  Maybe it took one to know one, Matt mused. For example, the editors of the paper hadn't had the balls to guess where Mr. Holiday might strike this Independence Day. Matt would have taken one.