by Donna Alward
Two minutes to five. Any moment now, someone would lock the doors and the people already inside would be served. Anyone else would be out of luck.
Someone came out of an office and walked toward the doors, just as one last person scurried in. The door locks clicked into place.
The line moved forward.
When Cassidy was finally called forward, she had the odd feeling that someone was behind her. She stepped up to the teller with her deposit bag and jumped as she felt something cold and hard against the base of her neck.
“Hello, Cassidy. Here to make your deposit?” the teller asked, still looking at her monitor. When she looked up, her friendly expression turned to one of alarm. “Oh…”
Cassidy’s whole body shook as she suddenly realized what was pressing against the hollow at the base of her head.
“Empty your drawers and put all the money into a bag.”
The bank had gone deathly quiet.
“I said,” the man raised his voice and reached around Cassidy, pulling her close into his shoulder, while the gun slid to the side of her neck. “Empty your cash drawers right now and put the money into a bag.”
Cassidy’s heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears. The staff at the Foundry First Bank was, like her, frozen in place, struck by fear. Robberies didn’t happen here. Foundry was a nice, quiet, small town.
Except apparently things like that did happen. And they were happening right now.
Cassidy forced herself to breathe. In, out. In, out. She wouldn’t faint. She looked over at her captor, but he had his hoodie pulled all the way up over his head so that it shadowed his face. “Do what he says,” she whispered. “Please.”
“I need to use my keys to open the cash drawer,” her teller said, her voice shaking.
“Then open it,” the man ordered, shaking the gun a little, enough that Cassidy could see it from the corner of her eye. She wished he’d stop pointing it at her. Sometimes those things went off by mistake. Firearm accidents happened all the time. All it would take was him getting agitated and…
Stop. She had to keep her shit together. She dragged her gaze away from the gun.
Her teller’s name was Sue, and as far as Cassidy knew, she’d only been working at the bank for a few months. Sue grabbed her keys, and Cassidy saw that her hands were shaking horribly. She struggled to put the key into the lock and dropped the keyring. It made a jingling sound in the heavy silence.
“Hurry up!” His deep voice was impatient, and Sue made a point of apologizing.
“I’m sorry. I’m just nervous. There, see? I’ve got it.”
She opened the drawer. Once he saw her drawer was open, he took a few steps to the left, dragging Cassidy with him. “You,” he ordered, waving the gun at another teller. “Open your drawer. Hurry the hell up.”
Cassidy didn’t struggle. What was the point? He’d take his money, then let her go, wouldn’t he? Cold fear shot through her body. She’d do anything to not go with him.
The cold metal of the gun touched her neck again and she closed her eyes.
“I said hurry up!”
Staff hurriedly shoved cash into a cloth bag and held it out over the counter. The two other remaining customers had fled to a corner and huddled there, close together, their faces white. “Here,” the teller said, her voice shaking. “Take it.”
“Put it on the counter and back away.”
He loosened his grip just a bit, holding onto Cassidy’s arm instead of her whole body, as he reached for the bag with his gun hand. When he turned back, she got a good look at his face. He’d deliberately kept his head down, but when he reached for the money and then turned, the hood on his jacket pulled back just a bit and she met his gaze.
She knew him.
Her body went numb. She didn’t know his name, but the face was somehow familiar. The hazel eyes, long jaw, straight nose, and rather full lips. She’d seen him somewhere before…but where? She looked away quickly, hoping he hadn’t glimpsed recognition on her face. He resumed his earlier posture of pulling her in against his shoulder, but he didn’t put the gun against her head this time. Instead, he pulled her with him toward the exit, ordered someone to unlock the door, and just as he stepped through, he ripped the deposit bag from her hand and gave her a rough shove, sending her directly into the bank employee.
He disappeared out the door.
For several seconds there was stunned silence. Then bedlam erupted.
A couple of the tellers started crying. The customers got up from their crouched posture and went for the seating area, pale and shaken. Roberta, the bank manager, unlocked her office and came out. “Is everyone okay?” She hustled to the front doors and locked them again. Cassidy looked at the clock on her phone. 5:02. The whole thing had taken place in less than four minutes, but it had felt like forever. Mechanically, she found a chair and sank into it.
She heard sirens now. Roberta was speaking; the banking staff was responding, but none of the words registered. All she heard were the sirens getting closer, and all she could see was the guy’s face. She scrambled to place it. Was he from town? No. Foundry was small, and owning a restaurant meant that she knew most people. Had he come from another town or city, then? But where? What was the common thread?
The sirens stopped and Cassidy was dimly aware of Roberta going back to the doors to open them for the police. When she looked up, four uniformed officers entered the bank. Leading the group was Joe Lawson, looking very big and official and…safe. As his gaze touched hers, she let out a long, slow breath. There was something instantly reassuring in his presence. She was okay now. Joe was here.
Something in her brain clicked. She had it. She’d seen the guy’s face online. On…a profile.
She grabbed a nearby garbage can and vomited.
…
Cassidy Stone’s face was pale, and Joe saw her sway in her seat as if she was going to faint. Instead, she bent and threw up in a garbage can. He grimaced. People had varying reactions to stress and trauma. It wasn’t such a big shock that she’d been sick to her stomach. He’d seen worse.
He went over and squatted down in front of her. “Hey, Cassidy.” There was a box of tissues on the glass-topped table next to her, and he plucked one from the box and handed it to her. She wiped her mouth and tossed the tissue in the trash, then deftly tied the bag in a knot.
“Sorry,” she gasped. “I couldn’t help it.”
He laughed a little, hoping he could help her relax. “Hey, you hit the trash can. You did good.”
She tucked a strand of honey colored hair behind her ear and chuckled, but it sounded weak. “Mind if I put my head between my knees for a second?”
“Take your time.” He needed to ask her questions, and the sooner the better, but she was no good to him if she was passed out on the floor. He stood and put his hand on her shoulder, just briefly, but hoped it was reassuring. “You were here during the robbery?”
She nodded, the strand of hair coming loose again. “He…he held a gun to my head.” The word was slightly muffled from her odd posture. “I guess I was the leverage.”
Shit. An image of her shot into his brain. He imagined her being held hostage like that. She wouldn’t have crumpled. She would have stayed calm. Terrified, but calm. Her calmness had probably kept things from escalating. It hurt his heart to think that she might have learned that from personal experience.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head and sat up again. “Just shaken. Really shaken, apparently. I never puke.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “We’re going to make sure you’re okay. We’ll take statements from everyone. There are cameras everywhere, too. Don’t worry.”
She nodded and the piece of hair bounced with the movement. He resisted the urge to tuck it back into place. Instead he took his hand off her shoulder and stepped back.
“Boss?” Tim Clark looked over the counter. “I’ve got a description. I’m gonna send it out now
.”
“Vehicle?”
“No one saw. He might have gone on foot.”
“Set up roadblocks on the exits to the highway. We might be too late, but you never know.”
“On it.”
“Cass?”
She let out a breath. She was still pale, but not that sickly gray-green color she’d been only moments before. The crest of each cheek held a dot of pink. She was going to be fine.
“He’s not from here,” she said, shaking her head. “Not from town. But I can maybe tell you where.”
“Maybe?” Intrigued, he squatted down and leaned closer. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I recognized him. He had his hood up and tried to hide his face, but when he reached for the bag of money, I saw.”
“You got a name?” A fizz of adrenaline ripped through him. This would speed things up a lot. The robber hadn’t worn a mask or balaclava, but even with video, it could take a while to get an actual ID.
She shook her head. “No name. But I can find it for you.”
The color was back in her cheeks, and her gaze slid away for a moment. “Give me a minute to check something.”
She reached for her purse and took out her phone. He waited impatiently, tapping the toe of his boot. The guy had robbed a bank and with every minute that passed, the farther away he got. “Cassidy?”
“I’ve got to scroll through. Maybe I’m wrong…” She huffed out a breath. “Thirty more seconds, I swear.”
He could tell when she found what she was looking for, because her eyes widened and her lips turned down in a strange sort of frown. She looked up, met his gaze, and then handed him the phone, screen first.
He took it, warm from her hand, and stared at the screen.
“A dating site?”
“Don’t judge, Mr. Blind Date Disaster. Anyway, that’s him. That profile. I’m sure of it.”
“I’ll be right back. Sit tight.”
He took her phone with him and rushed to put things in motion.
Chapter Three
Cassidy pressed her hands between her knees to keep them from shaking. Her whole body vibrated, and she kept seeing the dark barrel of the gun. It was weird for that one, tiny image to fill her brain. She tried diverting her thoughts to something else. A bobble head on one of the teller counters, resembling a hockey player from the Avalanche. Nope. Cold metal barrel. The sign on top of the counter in red and white that said, “Ask me about our high-interest savings account.” Nope. She swallowed and looked around. There was Joe, busy with three other officers, their heads together. She let her gaze travel down his body to where his trousers fit perfectly against a very fine bottom.
That worked for about two seconds, and then the sickening lurch came back and so did the image.
She had to calm the hell down. It was over. She was safe. No more gun against her neck.
Joe came back, a look of concern pulling at his features. “Cassidy,” he said gently. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
She gave a shaky laugh. “I know. I’ve been repeating that to myself over and over. I think I just need to give it some more time.”
“You’re in shock. And there’ll be someone to talk to you about that, too. To make sure you don’t suffer any long-term effects.”
She nodded. He meant some sort of victim counseling. “Seriously, though? I survived my divorce. I’ll survive this.” She tried to laugh again. “There’s nothing more terrifying than dividing marital assets through two lawyers.”
She shuddered at the memory. Darren hadn’t been an easy husband. He’d made an even worse ex. He’d been the one to leave and he’d asked for everything. The house. The car. Their savings. If Cassidy hadn’t needed the money so badly, she would have given him all of it and said good riddance. Instead she’d fought him for her share, and the divorce had gotten ugly.
“At least you didn’t have a custody battle, too,” Joe offered kindly.
She winced. Yes, no kids had been caught in the middle. But that wasn’t because she hadn’t wanted them. She had. She’d kept the car, he’d bought out his half of the house and lived there now with his girlfriend, and the savings had been split in half. She’d saved herself a good amount of stress and lawyer fees by taking that much and not asking for any alimony.
There was something to be said for being free and clear. And when the evenings and weekends were a little too quiet, she reminded herself that loneliness was better than the alternative—living with a liar and a cheat.
Joe crouched down in front of her. “I’m going to have Sam—Deputy White—take you to the station while we check this out. You’ll be safe there and we can update you soon, but we’ll also have more questions and take an official statement.”
She frowned. “I have to go sit at the station? Really?”
“Sorry. It’s just…well. The thing is, Cass, if you recognized him, then he might have recognized you. We don’t want to take any chances.”
A woozy hum echoed in her ears. Joe was right. What if he knew who she was and that she could identify him?
“This is bad. This is really bad.”
Joe smiled. “It’ll be okay. We just want to take precautions. Having his identity is huge. We’ll catch him, I promise.” He patted her knee.
Cassidy wasn’t quite sure what to think. So many emotions pressed down on her right now that she felt both hypersensitive and oddly numb.
“Cass, go with Sam. He’ll look after you.”
Right or wrong, she grabbed onto the only lifeline she knew. “You’ll come back?”
“I’ll come back.” He smiled at her, and she looked into his gray-green eyes. They were warm and serious and…honest. And just about the only thing she could hold on to at this moment.
“Okay.”
“Oh, and Cass?”
“Hmm?”
“Not My 1st Rodeo? Really?”
Damn, the heat rushed back to her cheeks again. “I said don’t judge. Isn’t everyone on a dating site these days?”
“Not everyone. Some of us have had our fill of blind dates,” he responded and then winked at her.
The bit of humor was welcome, made the situation feel a tiny bit more normal. “What, throwing in the towel?”
He chuckled, then touched her knee again. “Make sure you get some food and water and take time to breathe. It’ll feel more normal again soon.”
“Easy for you to say,” she muttered.
Joe left, taking one of the other deputies with him. Sam came over, looking horribly official for his what, twenty-three years? He was probably still wet behind the ears. But he nodded at her politely and said, not unkindly, “Are you ready to go, Ms. Strong?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She stood up and willed her knees not to shake.
All she’d wanted was a quiet Friday night with Netflix and a bottle of wine and some comfort food. Sure, there were times when she’d imagined what it would be like if her life weren’t so boring or predictable, but this was overkill as far as adventure-seeking went.
She followed Sam out of the bank and into the waiting squad car.
It was over an hour before Joe came back to the small police station. Sam had let her wait in one of the offices, which was more comfortable than the Spartan interrogation rooms. Of which there were two, and one appeared to be full of boxes.
He poked his head into the room. “You doing okay?”
She nodded, and sat forward in her chair. “Did you get him?” she asked, hoping that the whole ordeal was over and the guy was in custody.
He frowned. “No, not yet. Did Sam take your statement?”
“He did.” That had been humiliating. She’d had to explain to the deputy about the dating site. Not that he’d asked any personal questions. But she’d had to log in and find the profile again. Jonathan Graves, the name said. A bull-rider from Greeley.
Joe came inside the office and pulled a chair up to the desk. It creaked as he sat in it, and she realized how long hi
s legs were when he stretched them out, crossing his ankles. “The roadblocks will be up for a while yet, but I’m guessing he’s out of the area. He won’t get far, though. ID-ing him so quickly means we’ll be able to get a plate number for whatever he’s driving.”
“Good, good,” she murmured. The whole thing felt surreal and put her off-balance. The fear and shock had abated some, though. She reached for the nearly-cool cup of tea the receptionist had brought her several minutes ago.
“Hey, boss?”
Joe looked up at Sam, standing in the doorway to the office. “Yeah? Any developments?”
Sam shook his head. “Actually, a snag. Turns out Jonathan Graves isn’t his real name. He’s using an alias on the site.”
Cassidy put her forehead on her hand. “This is why I don’t do dating sites. No one is who they say they are.”
Joe chuckled and put his hand on her shoulder. “First time, huh?”
She looked up, more miserable than before. “First and last.” Maybe this was something they’d laugh about later. Him with his disappearing date and her with her online dating disaster. They could commiserate over their sad excuses for love lives.
“Can you stick around a bit longer?” he asked.
She saw something in his expression that sent warning bells through her head. He was trying to stay relaxed and downplay the situation, wasn’t he? The other employees and witnesses had given their statements, been given contact information for counseling services, and gone home with family. But not her. They kept asking her to stay behind.
“I guess. Though I’d like to go home.”
Home. To an empty house. There was zero chance she was going to sleep tonight.
“I promise it won’t be much longer.” He turned to Sam. “I’ll be right out. We’ll get a warrant to access this guy’s information from the internet provider.”
He squeezed her shoulder and then stood. “Hang tight, okay?”
