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Camino Winds (Camino Island, #2) by John Grisham Read Online (FREE)

Bob said, “But my car took five feet of water. It won’t start. I’ve already tried.”

Nick said, “Okay, but Nelson’s BMW is high and dry. He won’t be using it. I’ve got the keys in my pocket.”

“You took his keys?”

“Sure. They were on the kitchen counter. House keys too.”

“What if the cops come back to investigate?” Bruce asked.

 

“I doubt if they’ll be back this week, and they can get in if they want.”

“You want to steal his car?” Bob asked.

“No, I want to borrow it. Downtown is at least three miles away, and through a minefield. It’s a disaster, Bob, every dog for himself. Different rules apply. I say we raid Nelson’s fridge and pantry and take the good stuff. It’s just going to rot anyway.”

Bruce said, “I like it. We take the food, borrow the car, bring it back when the roads are clear. The cops are far too busy elsewhere.”

“What if they stop us?”

“For doing what? They won’t know we’re driving a dead man’s car.”

“All right, all right.”

In his upstairs guest room, Bob emptied two large plastic containers filled with old clothes. They loaded them with four thawing steaks and a chicken from his freezer, some cold cuts and cheese, eight bottles of beer, three bottles of bourbon, and two bottles of vodka. Bob locked his condo and they set off, lugging their loot.

Bob said, “If the cops see us they’ll start shooting.”

“Do you see any cops?”

“I don’t see anyone.”

Minutes later, they arrived back at Nelson’s, all three panting and even more exhausted. They entered through the rear patio so they would not be seen, though there was no one to see them. Bruce went to the garage and tried to open the overhead door. It wouldn’t budge until he found the manual bypass switch next to the motor. He and Nick grunted and pulled until the door was open. They quickly filled the trunk with canned goods and boxes of pasta from the pantry, bacon, eggs, and cheese from the fridge. The freezer was empty except for two steaks and two frozen pizzas. Gluten free. They took them, then made a generous haul from Nelson’ s bar. He liked good Scotch and they helped themselves to it, along with every other bottle they could grab. Luckily, they found an entire case of imported sparkling water.

 

Since Bruce knew more cops than Bob or Nick, he was chosen as the driver. Nick lifted the yellow crime scene tape and Bruce eased the car under it. They were in the street, their borrowed car packed with loot, and headed toward downtown, certain they would be stopped and arrested. The fifteen-minute drive took two hours as they weaved around fallen trees, got blocked at almost every turn, negotiated through police barriers, and waited at unnecessary checkpoints. They passed a few residents cleaning up, all dazed and tired. They passed a few other cars. The police and Guardsmen were busy, stressed, suspicious, and of little help. They were in rescue mode and had no time for curious sightseers. One helpful policeman saved them with directions that led to a gravel road along a marsh.