Wild Spirits. Rosa Jordan

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      “What have you got there?” she asked Danny.

      “’Coons,” he said. “Little ones.”

      “You didn’t take them away from their mama, did you?”

      Danny shook his head. “Mama’s dead. She got in our garbage last night, and Butch — that’s my stepdad — he set the dogs on her.”

      “Oh dear!” It upset Wendy that some people put their garbage out at night. If a raccoon smelled something it liked coming from the garbage, it would overturn the can and scatter garbage all around. It wasn’t the animal’s fault — how could it know that it wasn’t supposed to have the thrown-away food? But that didn’t stop people from getting mad when they saw the mess. “How is it that the dogs didn’t get the little ones?”

      “The garage door was open,” Danny explained. “They hid in there. I found them this morning. They couldn’t stay there. When Butch gets home …” He didn’t finish the sentence, trusting Wendy to understand what his stepfather would do if he came home and found the raccoons he hated in his garage. “They’re too little to be on their own.”

      Wendy cast an anxious glance toward Mr. Smart, whose stare had turned to a frown. “Listen, Danny,” she said hurriedly. “I can’t help you right now. But I’ll be off work in an hour and a half. If you want to come back then — in fact, why don’t you ask your mom if you can ride out to my house when I get off work, and help me fix a place for them?”

      As Danny left the bank, Kyle came in. He walked quickly, looking harassed.

      “What’s up?” Wendy asked.

      “Can’t do the movies tonight,” Kyle told her brusquely. Lowering his voice, he said, “They’ve put me on a stakeout. Drug bust, we hope.”

      “Oh well,” Wendy said. “Business before pleasure.”

      “You’re not mad?” he asked anxiously.

      “If I was going to get mad because you had to work overtime and break dates, would we still be going out?” She grinned ruefully. “It’s not like this is the first time.”

      “Guess not,” Kyle said sheepishly. “See you later, then. Maybe tomorrow?”

      “Sure,” Wendy said, and looked past him so he’d know another customer had got in line behind him.

      Wendy waited on the customer, then called over to Ellen, “About ATM time?”

      “So it is,” Ellen responded, as she stuffed thousands of dollars in various-sized bills into the bag. “Getting it ready right now.”

      5

      THE HOLDUP

      They walked out into the blazing afternoon, the sun so hot it was causing heat waves to rise from the blacktop. Wendy saw Danny squatting in a strip of shade at the side of the building. She turned to smile at him, then snapped her head around as she heard the sound of a car turning into the parking lot. It wasn’t the fact that it was turning in, but that it was moving much too fast. And coming straight at her!

      “Oh God!” Ellen cried, in a voice that sounded like a prayer.

      Before Wendy could open her mouth to scream, the car was next to them, and a gun with a barrel big enough to stick her thumb into was inches from her nose.

      “The money, Blondie! Now!” snarled the man with the gun.

      She couldn’t see his face because it was covered with a black ski mask. But his eyes were cold and crazy. Wendy knew without even thinking about it — because she had thought about it before — that she was not going to die trying to protect money that the bank’s insurance covered, anyway. She shoved the canvas bag of money at the man and ran, Ellen pounding along beside her.

       Once safely back inside, of course the police were called. Wendy and Ellen had to explain what happened over and over, first at the bank, then several more times down at the police station.

      “No,” Wendy repeated for the fifth time, “I didn’t see what they looked like. I don’t even know what race they were. Just that they were men wearing ski masks.”

      And, “Yes, I am certain it was a .40 calibre handgun. It was the same as my boyfriend’s police-issue weapon.”

      And, “No, I didn’t see what kind of car it was. As soon as I saw the gun, I shoved the money bag at him and ran.”

      And, “Why didn’t I get the license number? I told you! I was running away! If I had looked back and they saw me getting the license number, they might have shot me!”

      Wendy paused and looked accusingly at the two policemen who kept asking the same questions over and over. “You all carry .40 calibre handguns. You know what damage they can do to a human body. Would I be sitting here now if they’d shot me at such close range?”

      • • •

      It was nearly dark when one of the policemen, Sergeant Taggart, was assigned to take Wendy and Ellen home. After dropping Ellen off, Wendy told him she could drive herself home if he would take her back to the bank to pick up her car. She wished Kyle were around and could come over this evening, but of course he wasn’t. He was off somewhere on that stupid stakeout. Wendy did ask Sergeant Taggart to stay with her until she was in her car, because she didn’t feel like being in the bank parking lot alone.

      The first thing she saw when they pulled into the parking lot was Danny Ryan, sitting on the ground near her car, with the box next to him. He didn’t say a word, just stared up at her with big brown eyes

      “Oh, Danny!” she exclaimed. “I’m sorry! I forgot!”

      Wendy wanted nothing more than to go home, get inside her apartment, make sure every door and window was locked, then lock herself in the bathroom and climb into a warm bath. But the way the boy looked at her reminded her of the hopeless look she had seen in the eyes of some injured animals. “Have you been here waiting all this time?” she asked guiltily.

      Danny shook his head. “I went home and asked my mom.”

      “Asked your mom?” Wendy tried to remember what she might have told him to ask his mother, but drew a complete blank. “Asked her what?”

      “If I could go to your house, so you could show me what to do.”

      “Oh. Right.”

      “Look, sonny,” said Officer Taggart, “this lady’s had a pretty tough day. Why don’t you run on home, and go visit her some other time?”

      Danny did not move. He didn’t even seem to hear the policeman. He just sat there, looking up at Wendy.

      “No, that’s okay, Sergeant Taggart,” she said to the policeman who had tried to help by getting rid of the boy. “I, that is, Danny and I have a date. Something important we need to do together.”

      6

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