Cuts Read Online Free PDF Page B

Beth,” said Emily Jean. “May she become a true star of the silver screen.”
    “To May Beth,” said Ian.
    They bumped together the rims of their plastic glasses, then drank.

SEVEN
    NIGHT MISSION
    Albert wished he could take his father’s car, but starting it inside the garage would make too much noise. He took his bicycle
     instead, wheeling it out of the garage, climbing on and coasting down the driveway.
    At first, he was cold without his jacket. His turtleneck offered little protection from the night’s chilly wind. His only
     jacket was bright yellow, though. Such a color wouldn’t do at all for a night operation.
    Soon, the cold no longer bothered him. He enjoyed the feel of the wind in his face. It smelled fresh and clean like Betty’s
     hair.
    “I’ve got twenty dollars for you,” he had told her on the phone that afternoon.
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yeah, I’m sure. I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t sure.”
    “I just mean, I don’t do it on credit. If you have a down payment in mind, and small monthly installments…”
    “Hardy har. Very funny.”
    “I’m serious.”
    “I’ve got the twenty dollars.”
    “Okay then. How about eight o’clock?”
    “Tomorrow night.”
    “Tomorrow?” Betty had asked. “What’s the matter with tonight?”
    “I’ve got a previous engagement.”
    “Previous engagement, huh?” She sounded suspicious. “With whom, may I ask?”
    “That’s my business.”
    “If it’s Suzy Hayden, forget it. She’s a pig. Besides which, I happen to know she’s got a contagious disease.”
    “You’re not very friendly to your competition.”
    “ Competition? Suzy Hayden? Oh, honey, you’re pulling my leg. She’s not competition, she’s a bargain basement.”
    Albert turned onto Jeffers Lane and started pedaling up the slope. At the fourth house from the corner, he climbed off his
     bike. He lowered it quietly to the grass and ran to the front stoop. The address on the door was 3212. The next house on the
     left should be the Broxton’s.
    It had lights on.
    Crouching, Albert dashed across the space between the two houses. He knelt against the wall. Above him was a window. He paused
     for a few moments, catching his breath and waiting for his heart to slow down. Then he raised himself.
    He peered into the window.
    The living room. Lamps were on at each end of a long, blue sofa. The television screen was blank green. He saw no people.
    Maybe nobody’s home .
    He ran along the side of the house and across the backyard to an elevated stoop. At the top of its concrete stairs, he peered
     into the windows of the door.
    The kitchen. Dark.
    He hurried down and ran to the garage. Its side door had windows. He pressed his face to the glass. By the dim moonlight,
     he could see an expanse of emptiness. The two-car garage appeared to be carless.
    How convenient.
    Albert quickly returned to the kitchen door. He pulled a thick mitten over his right hand. With a quick, sharp blow, he punched
     through a corner of the glass. Then he reached inside and opened the door.
    The soles of his tennis shoes crunched bits of glass and made scratching sounds against the kitchen floor. He thought about
     taking his shoes off. That might put him in a fix, however, if he had to make a quick run for it.
    Keeping them on, he entered the lighted hallway.
    The front door of the house was straight ahead.
    Walking toward it, a wall on one side and a staircase on the other, he felt as if he were trapped in a narrow canyon. He didn’t
     like it. But there wasn’t much choice—not if he wanted to go upstairs. He felt like running, but that would mean noise. So
     he walked slowly and silently forward, staring straight ahead at the door, half expecting it to fly open.
    By the time he reached the foot of the stairway, he needed to crouch down to ease the cramps in his bowels.
    What’s going on? he wondered.
    Maybe that fried chicken I had for supper.
    But he figured it was more likely fear. He’d