7 days until our deadline, and I think the rookie’s lost it.
This is the time when we should be laying low and planning our getaway, and she’s talking about making cookies to leave for the fat man when he delivers the ransom. As if we’d have him come to our house to deliver it! The rookie clearly doesn’t understand how this sort of caper works.
I may have to fake a ransom delivery, just to satisfy the rookie. There’s no way I’m letting the fat man know where we live.