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Wyatt tensed. A silver BMW had emerged from the driveway of the Frome place. The headlights plunged, then levelled, as the car entered Lansell Road. Wyatt counted heads: Frome driving, wife next to him, kids in the back. He checked the time-8 pm-and watched the BMW disappear in the direction of Toorak Road.‘Let’s go,’ Sugarfoot Younger said.He reached for the key in the ignition but before he could turn it Wyatt’s fingers closed like a steel clamp on his wrist. He looked around. The eyes were close and remorseless in Wyatt’s narrow face. ‘We wait,’ Wyatt said.Sugarfoot jerked free his hand. ‘What the fuck for?’. ‘People forget things, Sugar. They feel cold and come back for their coats. We w...