“Let go!” he screamed. “It’s my job! MINE!”
David turned, saw his father lying motionless and facedown. His eyes cleared. He even nodded, as if to say Pretty much what I expected, then bent to pick up the flashlight. It was only when Johnny grabbed him around the waist that his calm broke and he began to struggle.
“Let go!” he screamed. “It’s my job! MINE!”
“No, David,” Johnny said, holding on for dear life. “It’s not.” He tightened his grip across David’s chest with his left hand, wincing as the boy’s heels printed fresh pain on his shins, and let his right hand slide down to the boy’s hip. From there it moved with a good pickpocket’s unobtrusive speed. Johnny took from David what he had been instructed to take . . . and left something, too.
“He can’t take them all and then not let me finish! He can’t do that! He can’t!”
Johnny winced as one of David’s feet connected with his left kneecap. “Steve!”
