Chapter 1
The mouth of the gray metal gun, aimed right at her midsection, looked as round and as wide as a beer can. Everything else blurred in her vision.
Snippets of last week’s FBI training session flashed through her mind and the agent’s words replayed in her brain. He’d called it “situational awareness.”
“Stay alert,” he’d lectured, “and take note of everything around you. Be aware of what’s happening.”
At this moment, staring at the handgun, Mackenna McElroy became aware of several things. She was scared speechless. All noise around her morphed into a monotonous drone, like a swarm of descending locusts. Her underarms were sticky with perspiration and she smelled her own sweat. The strawberry yogurt she ate for breakfast threatened to resurface, right on the neatly printed envelope that demanded she empty her cash drawer and not make a scene. Her heart thrummed in her ears. She barely heard the robber’s words.
“Do it!”
His command was a sandpaper whisper. No, more like a snake’s menacing hiss. Cold green eyes stared at her from beneath the rounded bill of a blue ball cap tugged so low on his forehead, it covered his eyebrows. An unfamiliar insignia decorated the front. Those eyes still hadn’t blinked. Was he a robot?
A slow inhale filled her lungs with tepid air and she swallowed the boulder clogging her throat. The FBI agent had instructed them to stay calm if ever they were face-to-face with a bank robber and surrender the money. She eyed the weapon peeking out from beneath the envelope bearing her instructions, which casually covered the top of the thief’s hand. Was his finger on the trigger ready to shoot? “Don’t risk your life,” the agent had cautioned.
Mackenna stepped back on her right foot and opened the cash drawer, sweeping her hand across the counter surface, effectively whisking her pen to the floor. To her right, her co-worker Sandy remained oblivious to her plight, chatting happily with an elderly woman about winter finally ending. On her left, Matt studied a printout of his customer’s checking account.
“No dye packs. Please hurry up.”
A courteous bank robber. She’d have to remember that. Lifting the spring-loaded bill clips one at a time, Mackenna emptied the slots. Remarkably calm hands eased the collection of singles, fives, tens, and twenties into an ordinary-looking bubble mailer. It mutated the flat envelope into a bulky lump. The room spun like a carousel, yet her hands remained steady. Every person in the bank faded into the background and time stopped. There was only the gun pointed at her belly and those ice-green eyes.
She allowed the cash drawer to hang open, hoping Sandy would notice the violation of bank procedure and realize what was happening.
“Close your drawer, please.”
Wow. This bank robber was polite and smart. She shut the drawer and regarded her assailant.
“Thank you, miss. I hope I didn’t scare you.”
He pivoted, a soldier executing an about-face, and then released an ear-piercing scream like a wild animal before pointing the gun to the ceiling and firing a shot. The room erupted in screams and he bolted for the door, hunched over like a running back carrying the ball. Mackenna pressed the alarm button at the edge of her desk and sank to the floor into welcomed darkness.
~ ~ ~
Voices buzzed. Her nose burned from an ammonia whiff that clogged her throat and stung her eyes. She flailed her arms in the air and struggled to sit up. The odor choked her.
“Give her some air.”
“Back up.”
“Are the paramedics on the way?”
Gagging, and then coughing, she swiped at her nose with the back of her hand and raised watery eyes to her co-workers. The room still spun like a merry-go-round with their faces parading by. Her boss. Matt. Sandy. Strangers. Sirens blared in the distance.
She gasped for air and motioned for everyone to step back. “I-I’m all right. Please. I’m fine.”
The bank manager’s arm snaked around her waist. “Let me help you up, Kenna. Are you hurt?”
Never had he called her by her nickname, always maintaining a boss-employee relationship and addressing her as Miss McElroy. She’d always regarded Mr. Gleaner as somewhat feminine but he lifted her off the carpet as easily as he might retrieve her pen, which remained stranded on the floor near Sandy’s station. Gently, he settled her into someone’s roller chair and tucked her hair behind her left ear. Those errant strands always loosened from the ponytail she wore for work every day. Blue eyes leveled on her.
“Kenna? Speak to me. Are you hurt? What’s my name?”
He grinned when she whispered, “Mr. Gleaner.” Her throat felt raw and her pulse raced. The veins in her neck hammered a bass beat to some unheard rap song.
“The paramedics are here, sir.”
“Bring them back. Kenna? Would you like some water?”
She nodded and a plastic bottle of natural spring water materialized in front of her. Mr. Gleaner unscrewed the cap. “Just a sip, okay? The paramedics are here. I want them to check you out.”
“I’m fine, sir. I just fainted.”
“Humor me, Kenna.” He rose to his full six-foot height and ordered Sandy and another woman to assist her into his private office, directing the paramedics to follow. The women each clutched an arm and helped her stand. That’s when she saw the sea of blue swarming the bank. Police were everywhere.
Bank protocol dictated that the doors are locked immediately after a robbery and she saw the elderly woman who’d been talking with Sandy and also Matt’s customer being interviewed by uniformed officers. Police questioned several other customers as well, and allowed them to leave one at a time. Her turn likely would be soon.
Once her blood pressure dropped to a more normal reading and the effects of the smelling salts wore off, the paramedics pronounced her healthy. Outside the glass office door, Sandy wrung her hands and shook her head in response to a policeman’s questions. Mr. Gleaner hovered, casting anxious glances toward her. He rushed in when the paramedics opened the door and said he could enter.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Kenna?” When she nodded, he placed both hands on her shoulders. “Are you up to telling us what happened? The police are here and some agents from the FBI.” He squeezed her shoulders lightly. “I can give you some more time if you think you need it.”
She’d never thought of him as anything except a strict bank manager, a stickler for the rules, and a son-of-a-gun when someone’s cash drawer didn’t balance. Now, he seemed tender. It was possible she banged her head when she fell.
“I’m fine, sir. It’s okay.”
He stepped to her right side. “I’ll stay right here with you. If you need to rest, just let me know.”
The questions seemed endless. Even though she recalled the awareness training as the robbery was happening, she’d noticed so little. Except for the blue ball cap, the robber might as well have stood at her window naked. She couldn’t describe the clothes he wore.
She didn’t think he had facial hair. Was she certain? No.
Height? Tall. Towering in the frame of the teller’s window. But he’d been smart enough to double over and dart out the front door, rendering the measuring tape at the bank’s entrance useless.
He definitely held the gun in his right hand but she hadn’t actually seen his hands once she stared down the cavernous gun barrel. The few words he muttered hadn’t revealed an accent. All she recalled were the piercing green eyes and the gray steel he slid beneath the mailing envelope.
Yes. She’d glimpsed the gun. No. She had no idea what kind it was.
No, she didn’t know him. Didn’t recognize him. Pretty sure she’d never seen him in the bank before. Couldn’t tell them anything more.
It felt like she hadn’t disclosed any useful information at all. But the FBI agents and the police seemed satisfied with her responses, despite urging her to contact them if she remembered additional details. Mr. Gleaner glided his hand across her shoulders and bent so that his face was next to hers.
“The bank will be closed for the rest of the day. Why don’t you leave early and go home? I have to stay otherwise, I’d drive you.”
Mackenna narrowed her eyes to stare at him. It’d taken a gun pointed at her for Mr. Gleaner to treat her like a human, instead of a math android. Or had she suffered a concussion and hallucinated? He continued to speak. “And take the day off tomorrow.” His hand squeezed her left shoulder. “I’ll call and check that you’re all right.” His breath smelled like cinnamon.
She nodded, and he helped her stand. Police still peppered the floor, both in the public area and around her teller station, but only a handful of customers remained. Her brain felt fogged, worse than any head cold she’d ever had. But her gait steadied once she gathered her purse and sweater and walked toward the entrance.
A young man stood behind her and they waited for the police officer to unlock the front door. The man stepped beside her and swung the glass door open. “Allow me.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
He strode to a copper-colored motorcycle parked in the front row of the bank lot and worked to loosen the strap on the helmet dangling from the seat. Apparently he was in a hurry to drive home, unlike Mackenna. She couldn’t go home, at least not yet.
Today was supposed to be a ten-hour shift at the bank, scheduled from nine to seven because of a community event. An extra-long day at work that had allowed Arthur plenty of time to move out. It had been a long time coming and her ultimatum that brought them to this point. In her head, she knew it was the right decision and she was ready to let go. Her heart weighed heavier. She didn’t want to witness his final moments in the apartment she’d considered “their” home.
The roar of the Harley jolted her from her reverie. She watched the helmeted young man walk his bike backward, rev the throttle one more time, lift both feet, and smoothly ride past her. He waved, and she automatically nodded.
With no real destination in mind, she exited the parking lot out the same driveway as the motorcycle and drove to the mall. At least it would be easy to kill a couple hours there, although she wasn’t in the mood to shop. How pathetic that she had nowhere else to go and no one to call. She’d devoted a full year to Arthur, at the expense of the few friendships she’d had. He hadn’t liked her friends and, after a while, they grew tired of her excuses not to meet up and stopped calling. Did they sense that Arthur wasn’t what he portrayed himself to be? Did they know he was a cheater? She’d known long before she actually acknowledged it, saw the signs, felt her heart growing dark. Knowing and acting are two entirely different challenges.
Thinking that a caffeine fix might settle her nerves, Mackenna walked to the coffee shop, barely noticing the window displays that she passed. Usually she’d linger, admire, maybe even wander inside to try on a pair of shoes or feel the fabric of a new dress. But today was hardly usual.
An extra-large mocha coffee should help. The china cup rattled in its saucer as she carried the drink to the far corner of the deserted shop and took a seat. The morning crowd likely was at their desks by now and lunch was an hour away. Mackenna planted both elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands. Her fingers trembled against her forehead and tears filled her eyes, surprising her. She wasn’t one to cry but this might have some therapeutic benefit.
“Hey, Kenna. You okay?”
Her head jerked up and she focused her blurred eyes on Motorcycle Man. He balanced his helmet on the back of the chair opposite her and leaned on it. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Guess you’ve had enough of that for one day.”
Mackenna wiped the tears from her right cheek with the back of her hand, then swiped at the left side of her face with her fingers. He’d startled her and left her wordless.
Motorcycle Man used his free hand to point to his chest. “I was in the bank this morning? We walked out together? I drove by you on the motorcycle?” His voice inflected with each statement, turning them into questions. “Remember?”
She nodded. “I-I’m sorry. Yes, I remember. I, you . . . I apologize. This whole day has me rattled.”
A smile, slow and easy, creased his face. “Don’t apologize, ma’am. You have every right to cry after what you’ve been through.” He waited, expecting a response.
Her mind registered his words as if it operated in first gear. He’d called her by name, yet he was a stranger. She didn’t like the chills that crawled along her spine. “How do you know my name?”
His eyebrows shot up and lowered in one quick movement. He slanted his head slightly to the right and dropped his gaze to her left breast.
She followed his eye movement and discovered she still wore her bank identification tag, displaying her name in bold black print. Normally, she clocked out and stuck the magnetized nameplate to the board in the employee lounge. But there was nothing normal about today. In her rush to leave the building, she’d forgotten to punch her time card. Her cheeks grew warm and she lowered her gaze to her hands nested in her lap.
“You waiting for someone?”
Motorcycle Man asked too many questions for her comfort.
“Yes,” she lied.
He slid the chair out from under the table. “Me too. How about if I wait with you?”
Yes, she was shaken and her personal and professional worlds were falling apart in tandem but that didn’t render her stupid. If he was hitting on her, she wasn’t interested and if he was a serial killer, the can of pepper spray in her purse would be a rude surprise.
“If you don’t mind, no, I’d rather you not wait with me. Thanks, but I prefer to be alone.”
He’d already dropped into the chair and plopped the helmet on the seat to his right. He folded his hands and planted his elbows on the table top. “Really? Because it sure looks to me like you could use a friend.”
Tears filled her eyes once more. Now, she had to contend with a stalker.
“You’re not a friend. I don’t even know your name. Please leave me alone or I’ll call security.”
His right hand shot toward her. “Jake’s the name. Meeting you is my pleasure.”
Mackenna’s hands remained fisted together in her lap. She eyed his big, calloused paw, and mentally awarded him grooming points for his clean, neatly trimmed fingernails.
Finally, it registered that she didn’t intend to shake his hand. He withdrew the bear claw and winked. “No harm. What do you say I simply sit here with you until my friend arrives? We don’t even have to talk. But you’ve had a traumatic experience, the full impact of which probably hasn’t hit you yet. You’re not going to like being alone when it does. Sometimes it’s just good to have another human being close by. I’m a body on the other side of the table and so, you’re not alone.”
He swiveled in his seat, rested his left arm on the back of the chair, casually propped his right ankle on his left knee and centered his attention on three customers waiting for their orders. Faded blue jeans topped brown leather boots polished to a high sheen.
With both hands wrapped around her mug seeking the familiarity of the hot cup, Mackenna sipped her chocolate coffee. Its warmth caressed her throat and the sweet taste soothed her nerves. She studied her unwanted tablemate. Nicely shaped sideburns stopped just at the top of his earlobe and contrasted with his dark hair, which spilled haphazardly over his ear and lapped his collar in disarray. A little too long for her tastes but, on him, it worked. Just the shadow of a beard. In profile, long, dark eyelashes curled upward. Why did men always inherit the lush eyelash gene?
Today was a warm, spring day yet he wore a heavy black leather jacket. It looked worn enough to be comfortable. Tight thigh muscles stretched the denim on the leg he’d casually crossed. As more customers filed through the front door, Mackenna hated to admit it but she was glad she didn’t occupy the table alone. At least no one else would bother her. But why had he?
“Are you really waiting for a friend?”
“Yes, ma’am. She’s habitually late but I’m used to it.” Royal blue eyes gleamed at her. Dark hair and blue eyes were a rare combination. Which parent had he inherited them from?
“You don’t have to call me ma’am. It makes me feel old.”
That smile reappeared and the heaviness across her shoulders lightened. Under other circumstances, this guy might be charming, if he wasn’t so pushy. “Yes, ma’am. It’s how I was raised.”
“Texas?”
“Damn, I’ve tried hard to hide the accent. Alabama.”
“You shouldn’t. It’s appealing. Women like a Southern gentleman.”
Now he threw back his head and laughed. “I’ve never been called that. But thanks.”
His laughter shot a small thrill into her stomach and she averted her eyes to her cup.
“You feeling a little better?” His question was soft, like warm honey.
“Yes, thank you.”
“I can give you a ride home, if you like. Or follow you to make sure you get there safely.”
Alarm bells sounded in her head and she lifted her purse from the floor and rested it in her lap. This didn’t feel right.
“I think you should leave me alone. Now.”
“Ah, we’re back to that, are we?” He winked again and returned his focus to the front of the coffee shop. His chin titled upward as a tall blonde approached. Jake rose and lightly grasped her elbow.
“This is my friend, Courtney. Court, this is Kenna. Someone robbed the Good Neighbor bank on Mound Avenue this morning and she was the teller at the other end of the robber’s gun.”
Courtney’s mouth formed an oval and she reached out and placed her hand on Mackenna’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Are you all right? Is there anything we can do to help?”
Her skin was smooth and her eyes, several shades lighter than her boyfriend’s, shined with concern. Mackenna liked her immediately and loosened the grip on her purse.
“No, thank you.”
She used a hitchhiker’s thumb to point at Motorcycle Man. “Is he making you feel better or worse?”
A nervous laugh escaped Mackenna. “I’m not sure yet.”
Jake canted his head and grinned, keeping his lips tight and denying her another bright flash of white teeth.
“I debate that dilemma every day.” Courtney laughed when Jake aimed a contrived glare her way and frowned. “He’s harmless, I assure you. But seriously, you’ve probably had a hell of a day. You should go home and relax. Do you need a ride?”
“No, I have my car. And thanks. But, for reasons I’d rather not go into, I can’t go home yet. I’m going to sit here and finish my coffee and maybe do a little shopping. I’ll be fine.”
Courtney offered a warm smile. “Want me to ditch him and hang with you? Girl time is always a good thing.”
For the first time that day, Mackenna laughed. She didn’t know either one of these people yet they seemed inclined to comfort her. It unnerved her but was oddly reassuring.
“I appreciate it but I’d rather be alone.”
Courtney and Jake then wished her well and strolled away, granting her wish. She was alone. And lonely.