him is out. For the time being he can stay inside, with quick walks out to a small secluded yard on one side near the back of the house, and Marcus will stay around to ward off any intruders.
But first we have to get him, and we wait until cover of darkness to do so. It is Marcus’s idea to bring Tara with us; it’s possible that her sense of smell will lead us to Waggy’s room, so that the operation can be done much more quickly.
The three of us get to the house at almost midnight. It is in an isolated area of Mahwah, and there is little doubt that Potter chose this secluded setting so that there would not be neighbors for her barking dogs to annoy. Obviously, the lack of neighbors works very much in our favor.
We all had different ideas for how to pull this off, but Laurie came up with the best one. We park about two hundred yards away, and both put on gloves. Marcus gets out by himself and throws a few rocks close enough so that the dogs can hear them. They start to bark in unison, and within two minutes lights go on in Pam Potter’s house.
From my vantage point at the car, I can see her go out to the dog compound and look around, trying to see what set them off. When she can’t find any obvious disturbance, she goes back into her house. Within another minute, the lights go back off in the house.
Tara and I start walking toward the compound, with Tara on a leash. I assume Marcus is executing the next part of the plan, which is to place devices on the front and back doors of the house that will prevent those doors from being opened from the inside. If Potter gets up again to check on what is happening with the dogs, she’ll find she can’t get out of her house. By the time she realizes it and calls 911, we hope to be long gone with Waggy.
Marcus meets us about fifty yards from the house. “Did you lock her in?” I whisper.
“Yuh.”
“Let’s go.” We move toward the compound with the dogs in it. In the moonlight, it appears to be exactly as Kevin described it.
“Tara, we need you to find Waggy. Find Waggy.” As I say it, I cringe with some embarrassment; I feel like Timmy talking to Lassie. But Tara wags her tail, and we head for the dogs.
We’re about fifteen yards from the compound when the dogs sense our presence and start to bark. Tara leads us down a long row of rooms, and I’m afraid she’s just checking out the place, not Waggy-hunting. But suddenly she stops, and there’s Waggy, tail pounding and reveling in the excitement of it all.
Marcus takes out a device and breaks the lock, then steps in and slaps a leash on Waggy. As he does so, I can see the lights go on in the house again. Within moments Potter is going to find out that she’s a prisoner, and will call 911. It suddenly strikes me as a mistake that we didn’t cut the phone line; I assume that Marcus could have easily accomplished that.
Within seconds we’re running to the car, and we get in and drive away, with Marcus and me in the front seat, and Tara and Waggy in the back. I’m exhilarated by what we have accomplished; there’s a Bonnie-and-Clyde feeling to it. The only problem is that I want to be Clyde, but Marcus would be rather miscast for the role of Bonnie.
I listen intently for sirens all the way home, but there are none. When we get there, Laurie is waiting anxiously for us. We update her on how flawlessly her plan went, and then Marcus and Waggy head down to their hiding place in the basement, while Laurie, Tara, and I go upstairs to bed.
I lie in bed for an hour, unable to sleep. What we did tonight almost seems surreal. But it wasn’t. In fact, the justice system has some very real terms for it, like “breaking and entering,” and “grand larceny.”
Laurie wakes up and sees me with my eyes open. “Can’t sleep?”
“No,” I say. “Not so far.”
“Does the fact that you’re now a felon have anything to do with it?”
“No. I’m just planning my next job. I’m thinking maybe a bank.”
“Good night, Andy.” “Good night, Bonnie.”
THEY’RE GROWING A STRANGE CROP of college professors these days, and