Beneath the bleachers at a town ballpark, tucked under the top seat, Wyatt O'Malley found what he was looking for. Out of sight, out of the rain and the mud, and unknown to anyone, there lay, as he expected, a small bag of marijuana. If Wyatt had told his buddy to leave it somewhere else, anywhere else, or if he had simply chosen a different evening to make his pick-up, there would have been no reason to run. But that wasn't the case. Wyatt didn't get busted for pot in the darkness under the bleachers that stormy night. A real cop would have been the least of his problems.