Chapter Nine
Nathan
Bree was acting anxious but I didn't think anything about it. The bank manager's pale jitters seemed to be catching. I even felt on edge after the man concluded his phone call and assured me everything was fine.
"I did not know you were in a car accident. I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Walker. That would explain the scratches on the key, I suppose." The bank manager stood up and nervously smoothed down his tie.
"So, you can take us to my safety deposit box now?" I asked.
The man flinched. "Yes, yes. After you fill out this one short form."
Bree jumped in between us before I could wring his neck. She grabbed the form and quickly scribbled in my name, and the date.
"You okay?" I asked her as she held out her hand to give me the pen and her attention drifted.
"Yes. Fine. Just sign it," Bree said.
I glanced over her shoulder into the lobby, but there didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary. A couple of people at the counter, a few more people in line. I couldn't see anything that would make Bree so jumpy.
It had to be the sweaty bank manager. He and Bree both jumped a mile when the phone rang.
"Ah, yes. Thank you." The bank manager looked wildly relieved. "The security guard is bringing out your safety deposit box now. I'll just show you the way downstairs."
Bree looked relieved when he led us away from the lobby and down a staircase to the lower level. A security guard met us there, checked the key, and then let us through a reinforced gate.
"Thank you for choosing Topeka Springs Bank, and have a nice day." The bank manager waved and practically sprinted back up the stair case.
"Is he always that nervous?" I asked the security guard.
The big man nodded. "Drinks too much coffee. Your box is on the table in there. Let me know if you have any trouble. These old keys can stick."
"It's a secure room?" I asked the guard.
"Yes, sir."
I pulled Bree inside and shut the door behind us. "We should hurry," I told her.
"Agreed," she said.
"The bank manager give you the willies, too?" I asked. "I'm surprised he didn't trigger the silent alarm."
Bree turned as pale as the bank manager. "Just hurry up and open that thing."
I slipped the key in the lock and was genuinely shocked when it fit. I was still reeling from the fact that the bank manager had recognized me. Still, there wasn't time to analyze his reaction. I pulled open the safety deposit box.
Laid across the top of an old shoebox was a beat-up postcard. The sunny image featured a bright white mission trail church, its steeple framed by a blue sky. The corner of the postcard read El Paso.
"Texas?" Bree asked. "I guess you really get around."
"Is it from me or to me?" I turned the postcard over.
"It looks like it's from a child." Bree peered over my arm as I studied it. "Look at the bottom. It's from Maggie."
I had to pause for a moment as a wave of anxiety crashed over me. Something was very wrong. First the photograph of the little girl, and now a postcard from her. What had she gotten herself into, and why was I involved?
I squeezed my eyes shut and strained to remember anything. There was nothing there but a confusion of darkness and worry.
"It's not to you," Bree said.
"What?" My eyes flew open but it took a moment to focus on the uneven writing.
Bree pointed to the top of the postcard. "She's addressed it 'dear someone.'"
I took a deep breath and read what I could decipher. "'I don't like it here. I want my mom but she hasn't come yet.' I can't read this. Do you know what's she saying?"
Bree took the postcard and read through it. "She's really unhappy wherever she is. And it sounds like there's some kind of trouble but it doesn't make any sense. She's mad this doesn't have an envelope and tells bad people they shouldn't be reading it. It's not nice to spy, she says."
"So, there's nothing. No clues?" I asked.
"Something about Ginger Road Park, but she doesn't say where that is. Maybe in El Paso?" Bree handed the postcard back to me. "Does that mean anything to you?"
"Not a damn thing." I stuck the postcard in my pocket and hoped the shoebox would hold more answers.
"What are those?" Bree asked before I pulled off the shoebox lid.
I looked into the safety deposit box and pulled out a few thick rolls of cash. Bree's eyes went wide as I laid them out on the table.
Before she could ask, I said, "I have no idea where those came from. I don't carry cash like that."
"Well, dinner's on you. If we get out of here." Bree gave me a watery smile.
"I'm sorry, Bree."
We were finally alone in a secure room with real evidence right in front of us. Evidence that I had gotten myself in way over my head. It was time for Bree to get clear of me before I caused her any more problems.
“I can take it from here. I mean, I really appreciate everything, you sticking with me like this, but you’ve got a life to get back to. You know you can take off, right?”
Bree waved my words to a halt. "Less chatting, more leaving," she said.
"Are you going to tell me what's got you so nervous?" I asked.
"Isn't all of this enough?" Bree asked.
I chuckled despite the strange circumstances, and then picked up the thick rolls of cash. They wouldn't fit into my pockets without looking suspicious. Bree's purse was a tiny thing that barely held her dead cell phone.
I reached into the safety deposit box and pulled out the shoe box. The surprising weight inside made my stomach do a sick flip. I had a good guess what could weigh that much.
Not sure what else was inside and not wanting Bree to see, I tipped the shoe box lid open just enough to shove the rolls of cash inside.
I gave Bree a little shove toward the door of the secure room but she froze. "What if the bank manager already called the police?" she whispered.
"Then there's no use sitting around down here." I marched out the door, pretending to be a lot more confident than I felt.
"Really, Nathan." Bree caught my arm and stopped me in the doorway. "What are we going to do?"
"We?" I sighed. "Don't you think it might be better if there stopped being a 'we?' I think you know that I'm bad news, and it's time you stop hanging around with me."
Bree shot me a hot look. "Oh, so you don't need my help anymore? I can just head outside and drive away?"
"Don't you think you should?" I asked her.
She narrowed her fiery brown eyes on me. "I think you still need my help, maybe even want my help, but you're pushing me away."
"Bree, I've got enough cash in here to buy a car. I'll be fine." I tried to push past her but the stubborn girl was stronger than she looked. "Come on, don't be stupid. If you were smart, you would get as far away from me as possible."
Bree planted her fists on her curvy hips. "I'm not stupid, and that's why I can tell you're in deep shit. Where are you going to go from here?"
I groaned. "Nervous bank manager, remember? We need to get out of here."
"So, it's 'we' again?" she asked.
I shoved past her and headed to the gate where the security guard waited. Both Bree and I were surprised and suspicious to see the gate still stood wide open. The security guard finished a long yawn and then stood up to walk us upstairs.
Bree cleared her throat nervously. "Is there a back exit we could use?"
The security guard paused on the stairs. "Why?"
She didn't miss a beat before she spit out a partial-lie. "I'm parked out that direction. He's trying to be tough but he was in a car accident days ago and these stairs are doing him in."
It was easy to give the guard a pained but silent look. Just for proof, I raised up my shirt and showed him the worst of my dark bruises.
The security guard rolled his eyes. "Tough guy, huh? With a nurse like her, I wouldn't leave my bed."
Bree grinned back at me as the guard took us up the stairs and away from the lobby. At the end of a short hallway was an emergency exit. The guard flipped through his keys, inserted the right one, and disarmed the alarm bar. She gave him a light kiss on the cheek as she took my arm and guided me through the door into the bright sunshine.
I tried my best to pull off a convincing limp but it was terrible. Bree tugged me along but we had gone less than 200 feet before the security guard called us back.
"Just wait here," Bree said. Before I could stop her, she ran back to the security guard.
I couldn't run after her and keep up my injured act. Instead, I held my breath and wondered when the police would arrive.
Seconds later, Bree ran back to me. She blew the security guard a kiss and looped her arm back through mine.
"Want to tell me what that was all about? Or was he asking you out on a date?" I asked.
"What? Are you jealous?" Bree tossed her silky ponytail and gave me a cheeky smile.
"Seriously. As soon as the bank manager checks in, we are dead in the water. Sneaking out the back is not going to make him any less suspicious," I pointed out.
Bree sighed. "The security guard just wanted to give back your key. You dropped it doing that horrible limp."
"Yeah, about that." I stopped limping, and we picked up our pace. It was time to get the hell out of Topeka.