Running Hot by Jacob long (the lemonade war series .txt) 📕

fund a brand-new anti-crime initiative in Camden to give police officers new equipment and a major tax cut for the citizens. It is all very confusing to me. If the money is going to benefit the police department; why would the police officers themselves want to steal the money? That is a mystery that you’ll have to solve, Laurel.
The van will leave the Federal Reserve Bank in Philadelphia at 12:00 pm on July 14th. Once it crosses Benjamin Franklin Bridge the van will be in Camden and will pull onto Penn St. It will make a right onto Broadway and it will continue until it comes to Mickle Blvd. There it will make another right and arrive at the bank; only it won’t make it to the bank. The van is only protected by three security guards and I am sure that the police will have way more men attacking than they can handle.
I’m counting on you to bring the corrupt police of this town to justice. I’ll pray for you. Good luck.
Love,
David

Tears were streaming down Laurel’s cheeks by the time she finished reading it. After a while of sobbing, she managed to squeak out a loud, “Reeeeeed!”

9)
“Well fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke!”

Matt awoke later in one of the hotel rooms. He’d been tied to a chair with several yards of plastic rope; completely incapacitated. He flexed his muscles and tried to break the small rope, but to no avail. Suddenly he noticed the figure sitting on the edge of the bed in front of him.
“You gonna kill me?” Matt asked Reed.
“No,” Reed answered, wringing his hands. “No sense in it.”
“So what’s the plan?” Matt inquired.
Reed smiled wryly at the absurd question. “We’re going to visit one of the more influential people in town and make for certain that we’re cleared.”
“Who?”
“Maybe I’ll tell you later,” Reed answered. “for now, just know that we’re not the bad guys.” Reed tossed a pile of papers onto Matt’s lap and walked out.
“Hey, you can’t leave me like this!” Matt shouted, writhing in the chair; the papers spilling onto the floor.
Reed didn’t stop. Matt continued trying to break the ropes; swearing and screaming for help. Then he noticed the scatter of papers that had been given to him, and after a few moments of study, he gasped.

Reed came out of the room with the rest of the gang waiting patiently. “Where’s this District Attorney live, Laurel?”
“In a house at the base of Big Mannington Hill” she answered.
“Seriously?” Angela spit. “The Big Man lives at the base of Big Mannington Hill?”
Laurel nodded sheepishly.
“And he works in Camden?” Devlin asked. “Geez, the guy must spend an hour or more a day in transit.”
“He works from home mostly,” Laurel put in, “having David do the heavy lifting.”
Reed walked away with the rest of the gang in tow.
“Alright, we can’t trust anyone,” Reed said as he marched. “According to those papers, there were at least two top dogs running the show, but David couldn’t figure out who they were, or why they’d want to do this. So, this District Attorney could very well be the man we’re after.”
Reed took a second to turn toward the clerk and swing his fist over the desk. The punch hit the clerk square in the mouth and he fell to the ground.
Reed turned casually back to his path simply continued out the door. “Angela, I want you and Devlin outside to watch if we’re safe. I may not be sure it’s safe for a while but just keep waiting, Okay?”
“Okay,” Angela immediately replied.
Reed turned to Devlin. “Okay?”
Devlin had been chewing his fingernail. He looked up and said, “Okay!” plaintively. Reed turned away slowly, unsure of Devlin’s strength in this matter.
“Wait,” Angela interjected. “What exactly is going to happen?”
“On July 14th at about one o’ clock in the afternoon, a bank van on its way to the Commerce Bank in New Jersey will be robbed by the local police posing as common thieves,” Reed explained.
“Holy shit. That’s today,” Devlin put in.
“And it’s already almost 11:00!” Angela said.
“That’s right.” Reed said as he crossed the parking lot. “That’s why we’re going to see this District Attorney and give him a copy of this evidence. Then I’m going to the heist location while you guys make sure the other copy gets to the New Jersey Supreme Court in Morristown.”
“Monetary gain, Reed!” Angela smiled.
Laurel suddenly piped up. “What?” she asked in shock.
Reed stopped and turned to look dead into her eyes. “Look, whether your opinion of me is good or not, Laurel, one fact remains: I am a thief, and I’m going to make sure I get that money before they do. Better me than them. You can stay here if you like but we’re going to follow through with the plan.”
The gang walked away while Laurel stood in shock with a despairing look on her face. As they got in the car, Angela turned to see if Laurel would follow; hoping with all of her being that she would. Only after Reed started the car did Laurel let out a sob and run to them. Angela re-opened the door and Laurel jumped into Angela’s open arms. She sobbed while Angela held her. The insanity and hopelessness of the situation had apparently caught up to her.
Reed and Devlin turned to look at the scene. Upon turning back, Reed muttered, “Women.”
Reed pulled out of the parking lot and headed south to Big Mannington Hill.
Traffic was heavy. At 11:00 p.m. the New Jersey rush hour was still going strong. Reed was thankful though; the multitude of cars meant that there was less chance of them being spotted by a patrolling police car. Once they got off the highway and turned onto Mullica Hill Rd. the traffic thinned out significantly and Reed slowed to what felt like an almost complete stop thanks to the velocitation. Laurel had cried herself to sleep on Angela because she hadn’t slept much the previous night.
Reed’s phone suddenly rang; the ending theme of “The Incredible Hulk.” Reed dug it out of his pocket, flicked it open, and looked at the name; it read “ID BLOCKED.”
Reed put it up to his ear and asked, “Who’s this?”
“That’s no way to answer the phone, Mr. Newton.”
The deep monster voice struck a chord in Reed’s mind. “How did you get my number?”
“I have your friend’s phone right here. I also have an Angela, a garage, a mom, and several other names on this list.”
Reed glanced at Devlin. “Yeah well, that’s why I don’t keep a contacts list.”
“Who are you talking to, Reed?” Angela asked.
“Some spook,” Reed answered.
“Spook, Reed? You’re very disrespectful, but I can look past almost any character flaw as long as the person in question is skilled at their craft.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Reed asked. The man was apparently milking this monster voice for all it was worth with his archaic pattern of speech. Reed was quickly becoming irritated.
“Despite all of our attempts to have you terminated or captured, you remain alive and unincarcerated. We even found one of our officers crushed under a pile of debris. was that your doing, too?”
“Nope. That was Laurel actually,” Reed answered.
“Hmm, nonetheless, you’ve piqued my interest, Mr. Newton. Perhaps you could see your way fit to stop this foolishness and work for me? You would receive many incentives and be paid handsomely.”
“That’s a tempting offer, and I’m definitely interested. Maybe after I clear mine and Laurel’s name I’ll take you up on that,” Reed smiled. “That is, if I don’t end up killing you first.”
The voice scoffed then.
“I tell you what; why don’t you give me your number and I’ll call you back later?” Reed said.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible Mr. Newton.”
Reed furrowed his eyebrows. “What? You mean you don’t want me calling you up on your phone?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, now you know how I feel.” Reed snapped his phone closed and smiled.
Angela giggled. “Nice.”
After another long while of driving, Reed pulled over to the side of the road in front of an elongated driveway.
“And I didn’t think there was any money in law enforcement.” Reed said. “Angela, wake her up.” He was indicating Laurel.
“Laurel,” Angela whispered, tapping her on the cheek. “Time to wake up.”
Laurel opened her eyes and lifted her head off of Angela’s breast. “Are we there?”
“You tell us; is this the place?” Reed said.
Laurel shook her head. “I don’t know. I was never here.”
Reed rolled his eyes and opened his door. “Let’s go see, then.”
Laurel hopped out of the car and followed Reed.
“Devlin, park the car in a good hiding spot and wait for us,” Reed ordered as he walked.
Devlin moved to the driver seat and shut the door while Angela hopped into the passenger seat. He pulled onto the grass and found a spot around the hill and away from the road yet still in view of the end of the driveway.
As Reed and Laurel walked up the driveway, Laurel asked, “So, what do we do if this guy really is one of the bad guys?”
“Don’t worry; I’ve got a plan.” Reed lifted his jacket up to reveal the butt of a gun.
“Where did you get that?” Laurel asked. “I thought you tossed your gun?”
“This is that detective’s police issue Beretta,” Reed answered.
“Oh, right.” Laurel seemed to becoming more comfortable with Reed’s ways.
Reed stopped in front of the door and rang the doorbell. A tinny, generic melody resounded in the house in response. After another moment, a well aged man with a balding crown opened the door. A look of shock and fear spread over his face and he gasped.
“Yeah, I get that reaction a lot,” Reed muttered
The man tried to close the door but Reed stopped the door with his hand and smacked it back open. The man was power walking to the phone but Reed chased him down and grabbed him by his stupid red sweater.
“You don’t have to fear me, Mr. Attorney.” Reed growled the words menacingly in spite of himself.
“What do you want?” the D.A. asked.
“To present you with evidence that will clear our names. We didn’t kill your assistant,” Reed answered.
The District Attorney’s face went from fear to a calculated, empty, misunderstanding look. “Okay… let’s talk out on the patio. My house keeper will fix us some lemonade.”
The District Attorney’s name was Richard Comber; a widower who’d been working for the New Jersey justice system for more than a dozen years now. He had done very well for himself in his profession and had an actual French maid. No children, but two cars he loved to talk about. One was a Mercedes-Benz that Reed had no interest in, but the other was a stylish red and black 1966 Oldsmobile 442 that Comber referred to as his “baby.” Reed made a mental note to return later to “kidnap” his “baby.”
The maid set the tray with three lemonade glasses in the middle of the cabana table and said, “Dois-je tenir est yeux la connais, monsieur?”
“Yeah, dismissed,” Comber answered, waving her away.
“I’m not going to steal anything.” Reed interjected.
Comber looked at him a little surprised, but the he managed a smile and said, “you speak French?”
“A little,” Reed answered. “I know how to speak Latin, which helps with a lot of European languages.”
Comber nodded; impressed.
The maid bowed slightly and walked away. Reed leaned over his chair