Foreclosure

"What the hell are you doing?" Jack demanded of his wife. "I was listening to that." He changed the station back.

They were on their way to a meeting at the bank. Where they were facing foreclosure on their home. Jack hadn't worked in months, and the job market was thin. Especially for a middle-aged travel agent. He'd taken over his mother's business several years ago. It used to be quite lucrative, but with the internet and sites like Travelocity, Trivago, and the likes, he'd been running in the red for years, and he'd had to shut it down.

"Yeah, I don't care." She changed the station again. "I don't want to listen to sad twangy music." She flipped her hair, and said in a haughty tone, "I'd rather listen to something a little more upbeat and positive."

Obviously, tensions were high with their home at stake. So, the battle over stations began. Back and forth, back and forth, until Jack slammed his hand on the dash and looked at his wife. "Dammit, Sarah..."

Before he could finish, there was a loud crash and an explosion of glass.

Jack awoke to his wife shaking him and screaming his name. "What's going...what happened?" He shook his head to clear his eyes and saw the blood on his wife's face. "Jesus, Sarah, what the hell happened!"

"I'm fine." She wasn't entirely sure about that, but she'd live. Jack started to get out of the car, but Sarah grabbed his arm. "No, Jack, sit still for a minute; you were unconscious."

"How long?" He started to evaluate his injuries. Their side airbags had been deployed. That explained why he felt like he'd been punched in the jaw. He had a throbbing headache, and he could feel his neck tightening, but other than that he seemed to be okay.

"I don't know, maybe a minute?" Sarah wiped the blood from her cheek. A minor cut from a rogue piece of glass. The bleeding had already stopped.

He sat there and gathered his bearings. Clearly, they had been in a car accident. After a moment he looked at Sarah. "I'm fine."

She looked him in the eye for a few seconds then nodded. "Okay, let's check the damage."

They got out of the car and Jack noticed a black sedan wedged against a telephone pole.

"Shit!" Jack ran over to make sure everyone was okay.

Sarah assessed the damage. "They got us mostly on the back fender; thank goodness no one was hurt."

"Don't speak too soon." Jack was white as a ghost as he walked towards her.

Sarah grabbed his arm. "Jack, what is it?" When he didn't respond, she shook him. "Jack! What is it?"

He shook his head. "Sarah..." He cleared his throat so he could get it out. His eyes started to tear up. "They're dead, Sarah. Did I kill them?" He looked at her pleadingly.

"No, of course not, Jack." She rubbed his arms. "They hit us, remember? Besides, maybe they're just knocked out like you were." She walked towards the sedan.

Jack looked around; they were in the middle of an intersection in a deserted industrial area. During his assessment of the scene, he realized he had run a stop sign. He dropped to his knees with his head in his hands and sobbed. He had killed those two men. He had no job, was getting ready to lose his house, and now he had just killed two men! He stood up, wiped the tears from his cheeks, and laughed bitterly. Perfect, he thought, what next?

"Jack! Come here, quick!" Sarah called out through the open back doors of the black sedan.

With the urgency in her tone, Jack felt a surge of hope. Had he been wrong? We're they still alive? He hurried over to Sarah. "Are they alive!" He came up short when she bowed her head and shook it.

"But look at this." Her tone was surprisingly chipper.

Look at this? He thought. There's two people dead and she wants me to look at... His train of thought stopped when he looked across the back seat to see his wife standing over a small briefcase full of money.

Sarah reached for one of the stacks of bills.

"No!" Jack called out.

Sarah jolted her hand back and jerked her head up to look at her husband. "Why not?" She motioned her head towards the front seat. "It's not like they need it."

Her sarcastic tone disturbed Jack to his core. How could she even be thinking about taking money from the dead. He shook his head and leaned through the front passenger door to double check for a pulse. The sound of a ringing phone jolted him, and he hit his head on the door jamb.

"Ow!" It hurt like a bitch, but he leaned back in to search for the ringing phone. When he pulled aside the suit jacket of the passenger, he noticed a shoulder holster complete with gun. He backed out of the car and did another quick assessment. Black sedan, two men in black suits, a gun, a briefcase full of money. Shit! Shit, shit, shit!

"Sarah?" He looked over at his wife who was holding two bundles of money. "Put that back!" He said urgently. "We need to get the hell out of here." He ran to their car, which was still running, grabbed a towel that was in the back seat, and ran back.

"Sarah, listen to me." He started wiping off all areas of the car that he had touched including the necks of the men. "What else did you touch?" His wife was looking at him curiously. "Sarah! What else did you touch!"

He practically yelled it this time, and Sarah realized what was happening. "You're wiping for prints?" She looked at the case of money and was spurred into action. "Good idea." She hurriedly put the money back in the case and shut it. "Just the case and the door handles. And them too. I checked for their pulses."

"Put the case down, so I can wipe it." When she didn't, Jack reached for it, but she pulled it back.

"No, Jack! This will save our house!"

"Sarah, we need to get out of here, now! Take a look, a real good look. These guys are thugs, maybe even tied to organized crime. Mafia, Sarah. Black sedan, black suits," his voice started to rise, and he gestured to the case. "A case full of money, a gun! We need..." But she didn't let him finish.

"A gun! What gun!" All of a sudden, she was having a hard time wrapping her mind around what was happening.

Jack ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "The passenger. And probably the driver too, but it doesn't matter, we need to go." The phone started ringing again, jolting them both. "Someone is going to be looking for them and probably sooner rather than later." He was no longer worried about the fact that he had committed vehicular manslaughter. He was starting to fear for his and Sarah's lives. These guys were thugs, criminals for God's sake.

He knew they were short on time; he'd seen enough movies involving gangsters. The sedan had hit the pole after hitting them, so hopefully no one would even consider a second car had been involved.

"I'm taking the case, Jack." Sarah said quietly, and at this point they didn't have time to argue.

He nodded, and they hurried to their car, Jack scanning for cameras. He didn't see anything obvious and decided to trust it. If they came for him, a hit and run was a drop in the bucket compared to two counts of vehicular manslaughter.

Their car had minimal damage, well maybe not minimal, but considering the circumstances it could be worse. Both windows on the passenger side were busted out, the rear fender was crushed in, but the wheel looked fine. The side airbags had deployed, but the car was still operational.

They got in and left the scene. A few blocks away, they stopped at a dollar store and parked at the back of the lot hoping to avoid suspicion. Jack looked at the clock. It seemed like hours, but only fifteen minutes or so had passed since the accident.

He looked at Sarah. "Call the bank; tell them we had car trouble and are running 15 minutes late." When she just looked at him blankly, he picked up her hand gently and looked her square in the eye. "Everything's going to be okay, Sarah. Just call the bank." He didn't wait for a response.

Jack hurried out of the car and into the store to grab some trash bags and duct tape to tape up the broken windows; Sarah stayed in the car to make the call.

After she hung up, Sarah looked around to find there were only two other cars in the lot, and they were parked close to the building. She picked up the case from the floor, opened it, and started counting.

She jumped when Jack opened his door. He tossed her some first aid supplies. "Take care of that scratch." His head was pounding. He opened the bottle of ibuprofen he'd bought and shook out five, chasing them down with a full bottle of water. "What did the bank say?"

"Twenty thousand dollars, Jack." She held up a little black notebook. "And this."

He noticed the case on her lap and knew she wasn't talking about her call to the bank. He slid into the driver's seat and rubbed his hands over his face. "Twenty thousand?" She could only nod. "What's in the book?" She handed it to him.

It was a tasteful, small but not tiny, leather notebook. He skimmed through it. It was half full with what appeared to be dates, initials, and dollar amounts. He assumed it to be a shakedown ledger. A place to keep track of payoffs for protection or something. Or maybe something to do with drugs. Or maybe he had watched too many mobster movies. It didn't really matter. He handed it back to Sarah. "We'll burn it. Put it in the glove box for now."

He got out and taped up the windows. They were twelve thousand dollars behind on their mortgage. The extra eight would hold them over until he figured out what to do for a job.

Jack got back in the car, put it in gear, and pulled out of the lot. He looked at Sarah. "It was really nice of your dad to loan us the money to get caught up on the mortgage."

Sarah nodded and closed the case. "Yes, it certainly was."