Chapter 21
The old-lady wig and oversized glasses transformed his face into his grandmother’s image, unrecognizable even to her, he’d bet. But he still didn’t like it. He hadn’t had time to case this bank and learn the layout. He didn’t feel comfortable inside the building. And he especially didn’t like robbing the same teller again. But his partner insisted. In fact, he demanded this hit.
He wasn’t worried about this disguise. It was top notch. Ruby red lips and excessive cheek blush stared back at him from the mirror. His mother’s mother resurrected. A baggy dress and stuffed bra completely disguised his male form. Thick support stockings and orthopedic shoes rounded out the masquerade. He’d be hard pressed to recognize himself. The teller wouldn’t either.
But confronting the same woman three times in a row was too big a gamble. He felt bad for the poor girl, although the last time she’d handled herself admirably. But wasn’t he tempting fate, looking her in the eye again and ordering her to empty her cash drawers? He’d protested but to no avail.
His partner was the brains of the operation and had assured him the woman would be so startled, she’d barely remember a detail. After all, what were the odds of the same bank teller being robbed three times in three different branches by three different people? In truth, it was a brilliant plan and would immediately shift suspicion to her. But even as he strolled into the bank and searched for her window, he didn’t like it.
~ ~ ~
Mackenna was distracted. During her lunchbreak, she watched and re-watched the newscasts, stunned in disbelief by what she saw. She’d wanted to call Jake, had her cell phone in her hand, but decided against it. She needed to distance herself from him. Obviously, he was a liar and a thief. No different than Arthur.
She’d halfheartedly resumed her post at the teller window and greeted her first customer. “Good afternoon. I’m your good neighbor. How can I help you today?”
Mackenna waited for the older woman with curly brash-blond hair and a glittery cord attached to her thick black eyeglasses to respond. The well-rehearsed smile froze on her face when the barrel of a gun edged over the counter and the old lady shoved printed instructions beneath the Plexiglas divider.
Tears pooled in her eyes as a jumble of questions pummeled the front of her brain. Why her? Again. Why didn’t the woman just shoot her and put Mackenna out of her misery? Would the old lady do it if she asked? Jake had been arrested and taken to jail. She wouldn’t be able to call him for help. No matter. He was no better than this thief sticking up the bank. There wasn’t anybody she could call. And then back to the first painful thought. Dear God, why her?
~ ~ ~
After giving a statement to a young FBI agent, Mackenna waited per his instructions in the manager’s office. She rehashed the entire incident, searching her memory for anything more she could give them. The old lady had fired a bullet into the ceiling, causing panic to roll through the bank, and ran out the door. She’d moved rather quickly for someone her age. Mackenna hadn’t thought to mention that to the young agent.
Special Agent Demond Crews approached her with a stern look on his face. Gone was the amiable smile she’d seen at the photo array. He dispensed with the amenities, his credentials displayed in his left hand.
“Miss McElroy, do you remember me?”
How could she forget a man as massive as a volcano always looming on her horizon, intimidating, like Italy’s Mount Vesuvius? She nodded.
“I’d like you to accompany me to the FBI office, ma’am. We’ll leave now.”
“Are you arresting me?” she managed to ask. Her throat was parched.
“I’d like you to come voluntarily, if you will, Miss McElroy.”
“I can give you a description of the robber, Agent Crews.”
But Crews wasn’t interested in her observations. He’d merely repeated his request that she accompany him to his office.
That hadn’t answered her question but it also hadn’t presented any other options. She nodded and allowed him to take her elbow as they walked out the front doors, the eyes of her co-workers riveted on her. Gossip traveled fast. By now, everyone in the building from the janitor to the manager knew she’d been a robber’s target already. Did they suspect she was involved? Did Agent Crews?
She strived to hold her head high. Agent Crews clutched her elbow differently than when Jake took her arm. The agent’s grasp was tighter. Meaner. Christ, she shouldn’t be thinking about Jake at a time like this. She was being arrested. At least that’s what it felt like. She needed to concentrate and make this agent understand that she wasn’t part of the robberies, although she’d no idea how to do that.
Riding in the back seat of an unmarked car, her mind swirled. This was a living nightmare. What were the odds? Robbed three times. At three bank branches. By three different robbers. And she couldn’t tell the FBI anything concrete. Except they’d all had a gun. And each one of them shot into the ceiling. That was something, wasn’t it?
She leaned forward. “Agent? Sir? I’ve been thinking . . .”
The seatbelt anchored his massive form so tightly, Agent Crews was only able to rotate his face toward her. “Please don’t say anything yet, Miss McElroy. It’s for your own good.”
She clamped her jaw shut. What was the line in all those old movies? Anything she said could be used against her. Holy crap.
No front door entrance this time. They drove to the back of the building to an underground garage. Once again, Agent Crews held tight to her arm when they entered the building. He flashed his badge at the security monitor and walked through the metal detector, setting off all sorts of alarms. The attendant punched several buttons and the ear-piercing siren silenced. The screener directed Mackenna to place her purse in a bin that slid through an x-ray machine, just as if she were at the airport. The metal detector stayed silent when she stepped through, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Nevertheless, a female attendant used a wand to scan her body and then patted her down, an action that bordered on personal violation. The woman nodded to Agent Crews and he extended his hand, this time locking his fingers on her upper arm.
They rode the elevator in silence and emerged on a floor sectioned off into cubicles. A din of voices, keyboard clicks and ringing phones permeated the room. Agent Crews guided her down a narrow path between the wall and the desks to a cheery conference room and directed her to sit to the right of the head position.
“Would you like some water?”
“Yes, please.”
He leaned out the door and verbalized his request, then closed it and sat in the head seat. Her father always sat at the head of the table. It was a treasured family tradition. This wasn’t one bit the same.
From his jacket pocket Agent Crews retrieved an oblong tape recorder no bigger than a pack of cigarettes. “Do you mind if I record our conversation?”
Did she have a choice? She shook her head.
One pudgy finger snapped a red button and Agent Crews directed his words toward the black square. He recited his name, the time, date, and place and said the session was a recorded interview with Mackenna McElroy. Then he directed his words, cold and calculated, toward her.
“This is just a formality, Miss McElroy, but you have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney . . .”
The rush of blood to her head drowned out the rest of his words. His lips moved but nothing sounded in her ears. Her breathing spiked along with her body temperature and she immediately had the urge to use the restroom. She couldn’t fathom what was happening in this oversized conference room that suddenly seemed no bigger than a linen closet. Agent Crews stared at her like a robot, reciting his cautionary words by rote.
“Miss McElroy?”
She forced herself to hear him.
“Knowing and understanding your rights as I have explained them to you, are you willing to answer my questions without an attorney present?”
Equally as robotic, she nodded.
“I need you to speak your answer so it is recorded, please.”
“Ye-Yes. I’ll answer your questions. I have nothing to hide, Agent Crews.”
He nodded and folded hands as big as baseballs with fingers that resembled Italian sausages in front of him.
“How you holding up, Miss McElroy?”
“I’m scared out of my wits. Call me Kenna, please.”
The slightest hint of a smile touched his face. Maybe he was human after all.
“Why are you frightened, Miss McElroy?”
Her breath expelled in a huff and she spread her hands out. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m being questioned by the FBI about three bank robberies that involve me. Who wouldn’t be nervous?”
Agent Crews nodded. “So you admit you are involved with the robberies?”
She bolted upright in her seat. “No. No, I don’t admit that. That’s not what I meant at all. You’re twisting my words.”
Her heart raced at record speed. Breathing any faster would surely implode her lungs. If she were a horse, she’d win the Kentucky Derby.
He shrugged. “What did you mean then?”
“I meant that I was the teller working the window in three bank robberies. The victim teller. The one the robbers pointed guns at. That’s how I’m involved.”
He nodded. “Fair enough. Let’s talk about these robbers. Did you know them?”
She gasped. “Know them? No! I’ve never seen any of them before. They pointed guns at me, Agent Crews. I thought they were going to shoot me.”
His mouth stretched into a straight line. “What made you think that?”
Fear gave way to anger. “Are you dense? The gun was pointed right at me each time. Why else would someone point a gun unless they were capable of using it? I know what you’re searching for, Agent Crews, but you’re barking up the wrong tree. I had nothing to do with any of those robberies. I never saw any of those people before and I can’t tell you any more than that.”
“Oh, I think you can tell me a lot more, Miss McElroy.” His words hung in the air, heavy like a fog over a lake in mid-August. Mackenna clenched her teeth. He was goading her, trying to throw her off balance.
Jake’s voice echoed in her ears from when they looked at the suspect photos. “They do that kind of thing to intimidate you,” he’d said. “Don’t let him scare you.”
Easier said than done but she refused to respond to the agent’s comment and when he continued to glare at her she dropped her gaze to the table.
Needing a diversion, she reached for the water he’d placed in front of her and drank slowly, her mind recalling the erotic way Jake swilled his water after his morning run. Oh God, Jake. Where are you when I need you? Locked up in jail somewhere? The FBI arrested him too. Could she ask to see him? Maybe they could share a cell.
As if reading her thoughts, Agent Crews drew in a deep breath, his chest puffing up to the size of a hot air balloon.
“How’s your love life, Miss McElroy?”
She caught her breath. “My what?”
“We’ve had you under surveillance. You’re pretty chummy with a petty felon named Jake Manfred. Care to tell me about that?”
Her heart sank like a cement brick. They’d been monitoring her. She was their suspect. Worse, his comment confirmed her fears about Jake. He was a criminal who’d lied to her. Instantly his kiss and murmured words, “No, ma’am. I’m one of the good guys” resurfaced in her brain. A fresh heartache took root and began to bloom.
Agent Crews waited for an answer. “No. I don’t, Agent Crews. My personal life is none of your business.”
Now the bastard smirked. “I beg to disagree with you. But we’ll leave your boyfriend out of this for now. Let’s talk about your present financial situation.”
She felt her cheeks burn hot. This was intrusive. Offensive. Another form of rape. Was he fishing or did he know she was destitute?
“If you must know, I’m in dire financial straits at the moment. Is that why you think I’m involved with the hold-ups? I assure you, Agent, I’d never stoop so low as to rob a bank for my own personal gain. And certainly I wouldn’t agree to be a target for a robber holding a gun.”
His hands spread wide. “You seem like a nice lady. I doubt you’d want to hurt any of your colleagues so that wouldn’t be your plan. You’d be the pretend target.”
Her jaw dropped open. “You really think I’m a part of this?” The thought stunned her. “My regard for the FBI’s investigative skills just took a nose dive. I assure you. I’m a victim here. Not a co-conspirator.”
His face sobered. “How exactly do you define ‘dire financial straits,’ Miss McElroy?”
It humiliated her when she told Jake the whole ugly Arthur saga. Agent Crews was a complete outsider. But if he knew the details of her life the past few weeks, he might be more sympathetic to her plight. She inhaled a fortifying breath.
“I recently ended a relationship with a man I lived with. The day that I was robbed at the Mound Avenue bank was the day he moved out of my apartment. He took everything. Right down to the light bulbs. There’s a police report on file if you don’t believe me.” Thank goodness Jake had persuaded her to file an official report against Arthur.
“He also emptied my bank accounts and hacked all of my creditors, changing the passwords so that I’m unable to pay them. I paid everything electronically and I’m behind on all my bills. I can authorize you to check my bank account if you’d like to verify that.”
A deep belly laugh exploded in her face, lasting a full minute. Then Agent Crews grinned, shaking his head emphatically.
“I’ll give you this, Miss McElroy, you’re quite a storyteller.”
She choked on her indignation. “It’s not a story, you son of a bitch. It’s the truth. I don’t have a dime to my name.”
Still chuckling, he reached for a manila folder and shuffled through several pages before extracting two that he slid across the tabletop toward her.
“Care to explain this?”
Mackenna studied the top page in disbelief. It was a screenshot of her bank account. She recognized the first page bearing the bank logo in the upper left corner and the summary balances of her checking and savings accounts. The saving account showed a zero balance. The line for the checking account listed a balance of more than four thousand dollars. Her hand shook as she lifted the second page for a closer look at the detailed line items of her checking account ledger. Her bills were paid. Deposits in various amounts were interspersed with the automatic payments. Five hundred dollars. Nine hundred. A deposit for twenty-four hundred dollars made last week. Her monthly paychecks didn’t even total that.
“I-I can’t. I’m sorry, I’ve no idea what this is. It must be some mistake. This can’t be my account.”
Agent Crews raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Isn’t that your Social Security number on the top line?” His fat finger tapped the spot.
“It-It is, yes, but there must be a clerical error or something.”
“Where’s the money coming from, Miss McElroy?”
She shook her head, speechless. Her world was coming to an end right here in this conference room. Agent Crews didn’t believe a word she said. She struggled to find her voice. “I think I want a lawyer.”