Life After Theft
Page 42

Only, in this case, it would be an antiheist.
“There are a bunch of details we’ll have to get exactly right, though,” Khail said, sobering now. “Cameras.”
“There’s only the four everyone knows about,” I said, acting as though I had known about them all before Kimberlee told me. “Front doors, cafeteria, office, computer lab.”
“We can avoid all of them except the front doors.”
“And the office.”
“Why do we have to go into the office?”
“That’s where the alarm panel is.”
Long pause. “And you know this how?”
I shot Kimberlee an apologetic glance and then said, “I’m working with the klepto; she knows where everything is.” Everything. When she first came to me with the idea, I had about a billion arguments, and she had an answer to every single one. A clearly well-thought-out answer. The irony of fulfilling her biggest stealing dream to undo hundreds of small thefts wasn’t lost on me.
“So . . . what about those?”
“That’s the risky bit. Someone’s got to get close enough to cover them, and I think it should be me.”
I could practically hear Khail bristling. “Why you?”
“Because your build is too distinctive. All you guys. Face it: You look like wrestlers.”
“I guess so,” he said grudgingly.
“And everyone will have to wear gloves.”
“Obviously,” Khail said, and I wondered if he was pacing. I stayed quiet, letting him mull it over. “So,” he said after a while, “you and Kimberlee lift the key and get the codes and then what, we all just gather at the school?”
“In your truck. Everyone in the back, where they can’t be seen. I run up and unlock the doors, go enter the codes, and cover both cameras. After that I’ll start unlocking classrooms with the master key and the guys can come in and be assigned one, or maybe two classrooms each.”
“That’ll take too long. You need to let me help, Jeff.”
I pursed my lips, not wanting Khail to risk himself for me anymore.
“How about this: You handle the key; I’ll handle the codes and the cameras. Twice as fast—we’ll be out of there in ten minutes, tops.”
I hesitated, wondering briefly how in the world I’d managed to get myself in this predicament at all. “Fine,” I said softly. “But you have to promise me you’ll stay off camera as much as possible.”
“You think I want to get caught?”
Talking to Khail was near impossible when his ego made an appearance.
“When?” Khail said when I didn’t reply.
“How about Monday? I’ll try to lift the key this week, when the opportunity comes along.”
“I’ll tell the guys. Can you sneak out at two a.m.?”
“I think so,” I said. I hope so.
“Okay,” Khail said. “We’re on.” Then he hung up without saying good-bye.
I held the phone against my ear for a long time before relaxing my arm and letting it fall. I looked over at Kimberlee, sitting anxiously at the edge of my bed. “He said yes,” I said weakly, realizing that I was hoping Khail would refuse.
Kimberlee just grinned.
“We should do something different today,” Kimberlee said from her spot on my bedroom floor, where she was lounging on her stomach, watching me brush my teeth.
“Yeah, because we haven’t done anything exciting lately,” I said dryly. Kimberlee had finally managed to figure out Mrs. Bailey’s schedule, and when she would be away from her desk. With Kimberlee acting as lookout, I’d managed to sneak into her office and find her key ring lying oh-so-innocently on top of her desk.
Now minus one key.
Twenty-four hours later my nerves still hadn’t recovered.
“Well, it’s Saturday, so how about we hit the mall?”
The mall? Last time I’d mentioned the mall to Kimberlee, she’d been less than enthusiastic. “I don’t need anything.”
“Not to shop; to take stuff back.”
I groaned as I turned my razor off. “You’re kidding, right?”
She shot me a glare.
“Seriously, Kimberlee, when are you going to figure out that I am the one doing you a favor and not the other way around?” I studied the mirror again and added quietly, but loud enough for her to hear, “Probably not until you see those bright lights everyone is always talking about.”
Despite my best arguments, several hours later I stood in front of a corner store in the mall and studied the list in my hand. “Claire’s?”
“Oh yeah,” Kimberlee said from behind me. “This place is so easy to steal from. They have these total airhead cashiers who are more interested in their nails than what you’re doing. They don’t even have cameras.”
“Thus the reason you have four bags of stuff from them?” I asked out of the corner of my mouth.
“What can I say?” she asked, already striding toward the store. “It was just too tempting.”
I let out a very long sigh and followed her. We’d been at the mall for about two hours already and my feet hurt. I’d loaded the backseat of my car up with three boxes of merchandise and I would fill my backpack, take stuff into the store, drop it off, usually with an obliging but confused clerk, and move on. I started my returns small, mostly because I was nervous—to little kiosks that Kimberlee had only stolen maybe a set of earrings or some kind of makeup from. Little trips; a thing or two. Nothing to draw attention.