Peeping through the rear window, he sees the bank door swing open. She strides out, clutching the black bag close to her chest. Easing himself low down behind the driver’s seat, he becomes invisible to those outside. The sawed-off shot gun, disguised as a cuddly giraffe, is braced between his legs. As the car door clicks, he holds his breath and realigns the giraffe’s mouth. The bag thumps onto the passenger seat. The door slams shut. He opens his legs and raises the giraffe.

“Sorry, I got held up, my sweetie. Sit back up. Put your seatbelt on,” she says cheerfully.


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