Read Thieves I've Known for Free Online

days.
    â€œGo on,” Phillip said.
    When she made no further movement, he unwrapped the bar, reached to her hand, placed it between the fingers. Behind them, a child began to cry. Laughter here and there. The guards said nothing, stood together in a huddle near the door.
    â€œHow are you?” he said.
    â€œThis leg is getting me down.” She took a bite of chocolate.
    â€œI’m in school,” he said. “Shelby helps me.”
    â€œHe helps me too,” said Shelby.
    The woman nodded. “Have you found him?”
    Phillip slid the cigarettes across the table. “These are for you too.”
    The woman picked up the carton and placed it in her lap.
    â€œI see you took some,” the woman said.
    â€œIt was a long trip.”
    â€œI asked you a question.”
    Phillip picked at the tabletop with his finger, drew what looked to Shelby like a face, large eyes and a thin mouth. He’d hunched his shoulders, become smaller. He circled the skull again and again. When he took his finger away, Shelby tried to find the face in the dust.
    â€œIt’s hard.”
    â€œIt’s harder in here,” said the woman. “It’s been half a year and you can’t do one thing I ask?”
    â€œI made some calls. Your boyfriend was in Portland for a while. After that, I lost him.”
    â€œThat does me a lot of good.”
    Phillip picked up the box. “I’ll keep looking.”
    â€œI want a phone number.”
    â€œYou’ll get it.”
    The woman took a small bite of chocolate and looked at the clock on the wall. Shelby couldn’t guess her age. She held herself old but looked younger up close. The woman’s fingernails were clipped short, pointed at the tips.
    â€œIt takes an effort to come down here from the hospital,” she said. “I’m in pain a lot. Next time you come, bring some news.”
    â€œI brought you something better,” said Phillip.
    The woman looked at the package. “Open it then,” said the woman. “My hands can’t fool with that paper.”
    Phillip tore the wrap up the side, slipped out the cardboard box. Shelby sat with hands flat on the table, watched for some expression in the woman’s face but found none. When he opened the top, he took out something wrapped in paper towels. He placed it in front of his mother.
    She set her hands on the towels, pulled them away. A set of binoculars, small and black, pointed up at the ceiling.
    â€œThey’re used,” Phillip said. “Not too strong, but you can see out your window with them. Check out the stars at night.”
    â€œHow much you pay for these?” the woman said.
    â€œNot much.”
    â€œI don’t have a window,” she said. “Nobody’s got a window here. What do you think this is? I only get out a few hours a day.”
    â€œYou can use them then.”
    â€œBlind myself looking up at the sky? You blew your money, boy.”
    Phillip said nothing, kept his gaze on the binoculars, which the woman had not yet touched. He seemed to slip a little in his chair, seemed to want to disappear. Behind the woman, two of the guards broke from the huddle at the door, looked past them, spread out a bit.
    â€œHe went to a lot of trouble,” said Shelby, and the woman turned her eyes toward her. “You should be more thankful.”
    â€œAnd you should wait for an invitation. This isn’t any business of yours.”
    The woman’s eyes were direct, seemed hateful. Shelby looked away. In the silence between the three of them, they listened to the tables around them, the people. An argument, louder than theirs, had broken out in a corner, and the two guards circled toward the table, sized up the situation.
    The woman lifted the binoculars, brought them to her eyes, looked up at the ceiling, the clock, then the guards. She turned the focus ring with her smallest finger, then pointed the lenses at Phillip. Shelby