Orientation (Book one in the Thelma Berns: My Internship in Hell series)

Friday Afternoon

"Stop the car," I said, banging on the back of Mick's headrest. "There he is! It's Horace." I pointed at the bench.

Mick slowed the car and turned down the closest side street. We all turned around to gape at Horace sitting out in the open even though the police were probably looking for him.

"What do we do?" Gillian asked.

"We should call the police," I said. "He's dangerous."

"He's not dangerous," Ning said. "He's an incompetent idiot."

I rolled my eyes. "He's not incompetent. Jerry got him fired."

Mick laughed. "Oh no. He was incompetent. For him to get fired, he had to have had a long history of messing stuff up."

A minivan pulled into the parking lot of the drug store and parked in the spot in front of Horace, blocking our view of him. A woman got out and then extracted a pack of unruly kids from the side door, including an infant in one of those hand-held car seats. She turned to head into the drug store, rounding the side of the van towards Horace and disappearing from view. A moment or two passed, and then Horace dashed around the side of the van, wrenched open the door and got in. The van screeched backwards out of the parking space and jumped a curb to exit the parking lot into the street. The woman was standing on the sidewalk, one arm holding the car seat and the other held out in space, frozen. The kids orbited her like she was the sun.

"We should definitely call the police now," I said. "He just stole her van."

Gillian got out her cell phone and dialed nine-one-one.

"Let's go make sure she's all right," Mick said. He put the car in drive, but Ning smacked him upside the head.

"Are you crazy? He's getting away! Follow him," she said.

"Yeah," Kirk said. "You've got to keep a bead on that guy until the cops can pick him up."

"I just witnessed a car-jacking," Gillian said. She paused and listened. "Yes, I'll hold." She put the phone on speaker. Muzak filled the car.

Mick looked both ways and jammed a foot on the accelerator. "I don't think this is the best idea," he said. "But the security expert in the car is telling me to get in a hot pursuit and I've wanted to do that since I was ten years old."

Horns blared as Mick forced his way into traffic. Up two blocks ahead, Horace turned left.

"There he goes," Ning said, waving her arms. "Keep up, would you? What are you, an old man?"

"I'm older than you," he said, looking at her sideways.

"You'll never know for sure," she said.

Mick sped through a yellow light, and careened through the left-hand turn.

The muzak cut off. "Hello? What's the nature of your emergency?" someone with a nasal voice asked.

"I witnessed a car-jacking," Gillian said. "It's a royal blue Toyota Sienna minivan. Did anyone see the plates?" She didn't wait for an answer. "I know the perp. His name is Horace . . . ." she looked around the car, waiting for someone to supply the last name.

"Houndsman," Mick said.

"Horace Houndsman. And police are already looking for him."

"Are you the owner of the vehicle?" the operator asked.

"No. I witnessed it. The owner is a woman with three kids and an infant. She's still standing on the sidewalk outside the drug store on State Road."