Back in the Cadillac, Chief watched Vito chatting with Sal and Antone. Whatever they were talking about, he didn’t like it.

“Joe, we’re going to have to make a run for it,” he said. Joe’s eyes went wide. “Run? Chief, I don’t run. I’m a wogger.” 

“A wogger?” “Yeah, I jog slower than most people walk. I’m a wogger.” Chief, however, was already gripping his door handle, ready to go. 

“Joe, in three seconds, you are going to open that door and follow me as fast as you can. This is not good. That policeman is connected to those guys and he’s going to leave us to them, I just know it.” 

Vito walked away from Sal and Antone’s car and hopped into his patrol car, then he backed it up, turned around, and drove away. 

“Woah, Chief,” Joe said, pointing at the receding outline of the cruiser in the dark. “You nailed that one! He’s driving—” 

“Now, Joe, go now!” Chief flung his big door open and jumped out. Joe scrambled to open his door but his pant leg got caught on something metal below his seat. He landed on the pavement flat on his back.

Chief was already sprinting toward the empty wooded space between two houses. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Joe, but he wasn’t there. Where was he? 

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