“I envy you,” he laughs, steering us toward the bank.

“Why the hell would you go and do a stupid thing like that?” I ask him, looking straight, toothpick in my mouth. I move it up and down with my lips and make sure my hat hovers in just the right way to make me feel confident I can solve this one. Truth is, I doubt I can. I’ll need them to be stupid. I’ll need them to make another move.

“You kidding me, sir?” he laughs again, awkwardly now. His breath is quick and irregular. He’s scared. I’m not sure if he’s frightened of me, or if he’s simply thinking the same thing I’m thinking. We can’t find them. We don’t have anything on them besides some names. Shit, I doubt we’ll even have CTV footage, knowing the lack of money this city is circulating these days.

“Not kidding,” I say. “Envy is a sin. You know that?”

“Well, then call me a sinner, sir,” he says. I hate how he’s sucking up to me right now. It’s pitiful. “Every time I come over there, and I know it’s not much, you’re always with some new girl. When I see you out at the bars, you’re with a new beautiful woman. I don’t know how you do it.”

I carefully side eye him and he nearly shits his pants. “Adam, are you calling me ugly or something?” I ask him. He chokes on his words. “‘Cause I know I’m nearing 40, but you don’t have the rank to start talkin’ shit to me, boy.”

“I—I—didn’t,” he stumbles and closes his eyes. “Watch the road, son,” I tell him. “Jesus.” Then I start laughing a little, letting him know it’s okay. “Ease up. You don’t have to be so high strung. It was a fucking joke.”

“Sorry, man,” he says, dropping the whole sir thing now. Thank the lord. “I just don’t think we have a case here.”

“Let’s see what comes up first. Cool?” I say, lifting my hat up for a second to wipe a bead of sweat from my forehead. “And, shit, man. Don’t envy me for fucking women. It’s weird.” He nods. I wish I could be like everyone else. Like Adam. Like the guys around me at the station, wifing up their high school sweethearts and feeling good about themselves. Having children. I’m not like them. The whole thing kind of makes me sick, to be honest.

When we pull into the bank, he stops the car, but keeps the lights on. “Thank God you came,” the owner runs out. “The bastards got in and took practically everything.”

“Who the hell robs a bank at night?” I sigh, shaking my head. I hold my hand out and he instinctually takes it. “Warren. Warren Marshall. Friends call me Marshall.”

“Yeah, I know who you are,” he says, eyeing me like a whipped dog. “You do good work out here. I’m glad I got you working this thing.”

That line of his breaks my damn heart. Crushes it, really. “Seeing a small bank owner get robbed under his nose hurts my damn soul,” I say. “We’ll figure this out. Not sure what we have to go on though.” I have to be honest with the man. At least, I do a little.

“Figured,” he says. These things are taken care of at higher levels anyway. That’s not really the point, if you ask me. “Let me take you through.”

He walks me in and my jaw nearly comes unhinged. The whole front is blown to bits. The back too. “They demolished the whole place,” he says. “I’m going to be dealing with this for months.”

I just nod and keep walking. “They left underneath. I didn’t know there were maintenance tunnels here. Why they would build them here is beyond me,” he says. Again, I just nod and keep my eyes open.

It takes me a few minutes to see it, but when I do, I know I’ve found something. A piece of cloth, near the gnarled-up vault. It looks like some of the burnt money scattered on the ground, only it’s got a slight pink hue to it. I grab it and put it in my pocket, making sure Adam doesn’t see shit. It’s not regular police work to do so, but it’s how I work. I don’t bring things into the station. I don’t play by the government’s rules and regulations.

I walk through the bank and see what I need to see. Adam just keeps sighing, whispering, “Shit,” and “Well, I’ll be.” Good police work, Adam. What a fine job you’re doing.

“Get forensics on this,” I say. “Any footage around the next three streets would be great. Stoplights. Traffic cams. CTV?” I turn to the bank owner.

He shakes his head. “Nah. We can’t afford any decent CTV. All we have are the back cameras, but that won’t do any good,” he says.

“Get that footage from him too,” I say. “Maybe we’ll find something. You never know.”

I nod to myself. I need a fucking beer. I need a nice set of thighs wrapped around my face right about now. Fuck, I need a woman. Bad. It’s too early to be policing. I just want to be continuing last night’s fun.

We exit the bank and I get in the car. When we drive away, Adam’s silent. “Turn on the radio or something,” I motion. He does and while he does, I glance at the opening to my pocket. I caress the fabric until it slides out onto my fingers. Pink. Thin. Why the fuck would any bank heister be wearing pink? I stretch out, making sure Adam doesn’t see anything he doesn’t need to see.

Pantyhose. That’s the only thing I can connect it to. Did the guys wear pantyhose around their faces? If so, why? It was nighttime. They were shielded. There weren’t any customers. A woman? Did they have a woman with them? No fucking way. A woman couldn’t plan a heist like this out. There’s no way in hell I’m going to believe that.

Well, if they have a woman with them, it must be that she’s taken under their will. That’s the only thing I can come up with. Maybe I’m too tired. Maybe that’s fucking stupid of me. Maybe I’m getting lazy. Older. Whatever the case, I need to find her. If she’s being taken advantage of, I’ll fix this. I’ll come out as a hero to the city and to the citizens. Frankly, it’s a win-win.

Good thing too. I never lose.