tell me. I'm just a curious kid. How many people have you shot?"
"You keep being so curious, sister, and you're going to be the first."
"You shoot us," Joyce said, "and you'll be facing a charge of assault with a deadly weapon. Or maybe attempted murder.
Or maybe even murder. I don't know how good a shot you are."
"You don't want to find out," Bud said. "How do you feel about capital punishment?"
"Are you crazy?" Bud waved the gun at Joyce. "Cut the cute talk, kid. You're not going to rattle me."
"I'm not trying to rattle you," Joyce said. "It's just that someone in your line of work should think about things like the gas chamber."
This time Bud aimed the gun right at Joyce. "I knew I should have gagged you in the first place," he said. "What do I want to be talking to a kid for?"
The man looked a little sick. He licked his lips and shook his head. "Kid, you are pushing too far and too hard."
"Joyce," Mrs. Walther said. "Please don't..."
"Are you sure you're feeling OK?" Joyce asked her. "You look kind of pale."
"I'm all right."
"Do you need one of your pills? Maybe Bud will get them for you." She looked at the man. He was frowning. "Mom has a little brown bottle of nitroglycerin pills in the bathroom. In the medicine cabinet. Maybe you'd better go get them."
"Nitro?"
"For her heart condition. With all this stress...I'm a little worried."
"Just forget it," Bud said. He took out a handkerchief and mopped his face.
"Look, if Mom has a heart attack---"
"Knock it off!"
"We're tied up," Joyce said. Then she squirmed against the ropes to show that she couldn't get free. "We aren't going anyplace," she told the man. "Listen to me. It's important that you get the pills." "I'm not moving." He shot a nervous look at the clock.
Joyce let out a deep, shaky breath. Her mother, tied to a chair near the table corner, suddenly gritted her teeth. "Mom!"
"I'm all right," her mother said in a tight voice. "Just...a little pain in my arm."
"Your left arm?"
Her mother nodded. "I'll be all right." Joyce glared at Bud. "You better get those pills!"
"This is none of my business."
"That's what you think! If Mom has a cardiac arrest...Haven't you ever heard of felony murder?"
"Huh? What are you talking about?"
"It means that you don't have to shoot someone to be a killer," Joyce said. She looked the man in the eyes. "You guys are committing a felony by holding us here and robbing the store. The law says that if someone dies while you're doing it---even by accident---you're both murderers." "You're nuts." He wiped his face again with the handkerchief.
"It's the same as if you shot someone." "That's not fair!"
"It's the law!"
"Oh!" Mrs. Walther gasped. Her lips peeled back, baring her teeth. In pain, she squeezed her eyes shut and fought against the ropes.
Bud shoved the pistol into his belt. "A brown bottle?"
"Hurry! Quick!"
He raced from the kitchen.
J oyce twisted her hands, trying to free them from the ropes while her mother gasped for air and jerked her head from side to side.
"No!" Joyce cried out. "Bud! Please! Hurry!"
The man raced into the kitchen. His hands were empty. His face was red, his eyes full of fear. "I couldn't find them!" he blurted out.
"They have to be there! No---wait.
Maybe they're in the bedroom. Try the bedroom. Look on the dresser."
He dashed away again.
The legs of Mom's chair bounced against the floor as she bucked and squirmed.
Then the chair fell sideways. The chair hit the floor with an awful crash.
"Mom!"
Her mother lay on her side, fighting for each breath. Her body struggled against the ropes. The overturned chair pounded and squeaked on the tile floor. Her face was very red. Joyce saw blood trickling from her mother's nose.
Suddenly Joyce pulled one of her hands free. Her left hand was still tied to the chair frame, and both feet were bound to the metal legs. But her right hand was free. Twisting, she started to pick at the knot on her left wrist. It was very tight. She
"You keep being so curious, sister, and you're going to be the first."
"You shoot us," Joyce said, "and you'll be facing a charge of assault with a deadly weapon. Or maybe attempted murder.
Or maybe even murder. I don't know how good a shot you are."
"You don't want to find out," Bud said. "How do you feel about capital punishment?"
"Are you crazy?" Bud waved the gun at Joyce. "Cut the cute talk, kid. You're not going to rattle me."
"I'm not trying to rattle you," Joyce said. "It's just that someone in your line of work should think about things like the gas chamber."
This time Bud aimed the gun right at Joyce. "I knew I should have gagged you in the first place," he said. "What do I want to be talking to a kid for?"
The man looked a little sick. He licked his lips and shook his head. "Kid, you are pushing too far and too hard."
"Joyce," Mrs. Walther said. "Please don't..."
"Are you sure you're feeling OK?" Joyce asked her. "You look kind of pale."
"I'm all right."
"Do you need one of your pills? Maybe Bud will get them for you." She looked at the man. He was frowning. "Mom has a little brown bottle of nitroglycerin pills in the bathroom. In the medicine cabinet. Maybe you'd better go get them."
"Nitro?"
"For her heart condition. With all this stress...I'm a little worried."
"Just forget it," Bud said. He took out a handkerchief and mopped his face.
"Look, if Mom has a heart attack---"
"Knock it off!"
"We're tied up," Joyce said. Then she squirmed against the ropes to show that she couldn't get free. "We aren't going anyplace," she told the man. "Listen to me. It's important that you get the pills." "I'm not moving." He shot a nervous look at the clock.
Joyce let out a deep, shaky breath. Her mother, tied to a chair near the table corner, suddenly gritted her teeth. "Mom!"
"I'm all right," her mother said in a tight voice. "Just...a little pain in my arm."
"Your left arm?"
Her mother nodded. "I'll be all right." Joyce glared at Bud. "You better get those pills!"
"This is none of my business."
"That's what you think! If Mom has a cardiac arrest...Haven't you ever heard of felony murder?"
"Huh? What are you talking about?"
"It means that you don't have to shoot someone to be a killer," Joyce said. She looked the man in the eyes. "You guys are committing a felony by holding us here and robbing the store. The law says that if someone dies while you're doing it---even by accident---you're both murderers." "You're nuts." He wiped his face again with the handkerchief.
"It's the same as if you shot someone." "That's not fair!"
"It's the law!"
"Oh!" Mrs. Walther gasped. Her lips peeled back, baring her teeth. In pain, she squeezed her eyes shut and fought against the ropes.
Bud shoved the pistol into his belt. "A brown bottle?"
"Hurry! Quick!"
He raced from the kitchen.
J oyce twisted her hands, trying to free them from the ropes while her mother gasped for air and jerked her head from side to side.
"No!" Joyce cried out. "Bud! Please! Hurry!"
The man raced into the kitchen. His hands were empty. His face was red, his eyes full of fear. "I couldn't find them!" he blurted out.
"They have to be there! No---wait.
Maybe they're in the bedroom. Try the bedroom. Look on the dresser."
He dashed away again.
The legs of Mom's chair bounced against the floor as she bucked and squirmed.
Then the chair fell sideways. The chair hit the floor with an awful crash.
"Mom!"
Her mother lay on her side, fighting for each breath. Her body struggled against the ropes. The overturned chair pounded and squeaked on the tile floor. Her face was very red. Joyce saw blood trickling from her mother's nose.
Suddenly Joyce pulled one of her hands free. Her left hand was still tied to the chair frame, and both feet were bound to the metal legs. But her right hand was free. Twisting, she started to pick at the knot on her left wrist. It was very tight. She
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