by Lisa Harris
“There are four sets of public restrooms,” she said. “I think we need to check them all.”
Madison headed into the nearest restroom, quickly searching the stalls and trash. A couple older women were washing their hands, but there was no one matching a possible description of their fugitives. She stepped back outside where Jonas was waiting for her.
“Did you find anything?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Me neither.”
“We need to keep searching.”
They pressed through the crowded market. A pianist was playing a tune in the background. Vendors sold flowers, food, and specialty items to the scores of visitors. The air smelled like fresh seafood. Fishmongers shouted to their customers as she hurried past the entertainment. To her it was nothing more than a distraction.
Their fugitives’ plan had been clever. Disappearing into a pool of hundreds of locals and tourists, knowing that as long as they couldn’t be identified they were essentially invisible. But unless they’d switched cars in the garage, they were here. Somewhere. They needed transport along with medical care. Getting shot wasn’t a part of their plan, and it was unlikely they’d accounted for that variable.
The second set of bathrooms was just ahead of them. She stepped inside the women’s, quickly clearing all the stalls, while a girl wearing acid-washed jeans and a sweater fixed her makeup in front of the mirror. Madison stopped by the trash can. She pulled a glove out of her pocket and put it on. Bloody paper towels lay just underneath the top layer.
Bingo.
Madison turned to the girl. “Did you see anyone come in here who was injured?”
The girl popped her lipstick back in her purse. “Nope.”
“I’m sorry,” Madison said, “but I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I need to close down this restroom.”
The girl shrugged, clearly uninterested, and walked out. Madison followed behind her and found Jonas pacing outside.
“They were definitely here. I found bloody paper towels.”
“And I found a sweatshirt with a bullet hole near the rib cage,” Jonas said. “We need to find a security guard and close this area off until the forensics team can process everything.”
She signaled at a uniformed security officer, then held up her badge. “I’m Madison James with the US Marshals Service. Can you assist us in shutting down these restrooms?”
“Aysha Larson,” the security officer said, shaking their hands. “I just received the message about the fugitives.”
“Did you see anyone who might have been shot?”
Aysha shook her head.
“Are you able to wait here until a crime scene team comes to make sure no one enters either restroom?”
“I can do that.”
“Good. Thank you.”
Jonas pulled Madison away from the guard. “I just got a message from Michaels,” he said. “He wants us to go to the security office and look at video footage of the market and the parking garage. FBI is working on footage from the bank.”
Once they confirmed that Aysha had the information she needed, they headed to the dispatch desk. Jonas presented Madison and himself to the head security officer, who introduced himself as Simon Hartman.
“I was told to do anything you asked,” the balding officer said, shaking their hands.
“We appreciate your cooperation,” Jonas said.
“All of my officers on duty are out there looking for your injured suspect, and we’ve activated our emergency response system.”
“Good,” Madison said. “We need to look at your video footage.”
“Of course. What do you want to see?” he asked, motioning them toward the video monitor station. “We’ve got over a hundred cameras placed around the market.”
Madison glanced at Jonas, then back to Hartman, who’d pulled up a chair in front of the monitors. “We can narrow down the time frame and the location to just before we arrived,” she said. “We know they were in the parking garage, as well as the Soames/Dunn building and the restrooms there.”
“Give me a second.”
Madison stood over Hartman’s shoulder as he ran through the footage. All they needed was one decent close-up of one fugitive’s face. And if they could identify him or her, they might be able to track down the others.
“We monitor both the market and garage cameras pretty closely so we can respond to any incidents as quickly as possible.” Simon tapped on one of the monitors. “Here’s your time frame for the garage.”
They watched as a white van pulled into the garage, then switched cameras as it pulled into a parking space. A second later, four people climbed out of the van. But their faces still were not visible. Two of them headed toward the market, while the other two headed on foot toward a street exit.
“So they definitely split up,” Madison said. “We still need to try and get a look at their faces.”
“I’m trying, but it’s like they knew where the cameras were.”
Madison frowned. Of course they did. Coming to the busy market had always been a part of their plan if things went south. Just like avoiding the bank cameras, they managed to evade detection here as well. But they no longer had masks on their faces, and one of them was injured. At some point, they were going to make a mistake.
“Try the restrooms now. Same time period.”
Hartman scrolled through the video until he’d found the location that showed the restroom entrance and time frame they’d given him.
A couple walked up to the restroom. They slipped into the separate spaces, then came back out thirty seconds later.
“Stop, right there. Slow it down.” Madison pointed at the screen. A man wearing a T-shirt and holding his side filled the freeze-frame. “That has to be them, and she just looked at the camera.”
Simon backed up the footage again, then froze the photo.
It was clearly Ben and Kira.
“Your gut was right,” Jonas said. “Kira not only lied to us about Galvan’s participation in the robberies, she’s involved.”
Madison and Jonas stepped away from Hartman for a moment to make a call. Madison dialed Michaels, put her phone on speaker, then set it on the desk between them.
“We’ve got positive IDs on Ben Galvan and Kira Thornton,” she said. “It looks like Ben was the one who was shot. We know there were two men in the bank as well as a woman.”
“So either Kira was in the bank or was the getaway driver,” Michaels said. “And the other two suspects?”
“We haven’t been able to ID them, but it looks like they headed to the street level while Ben and Kira headed inside to the restroom,” Jonas said.
“I think we can assume they didn’t stay at the market.” Madison sat down. “Which means they either left in another vehicle or used public transportation.”
Jonas rubbed his jaw. “A second car would make sense.”
Madison’s head throbbed from the growing tension.
“Simon,” she said, moving back to the set of security screens with her phone in hand. “I want you to check the parking garage exits and make a list of plate numbers leaving the garage.”
Hartman nodded and grabbed a piece of paper and pen before starting to scroll through footage.
“I want the two of you to head back to the bank,” Michaels said. “There are a couple people I want you to interview, including a hostage named Barton Wells. He might be able to help identify one of our fugitives.”
“Copy that,” Madison said, then ended the call and turned back to Hartman. “Thanks for your help. We’ll leave our contact information with you to send us that list as soon as you can.”
“This hasn’t exactly been a dull start to your first day back,” Jonas said as they headed to the parking garage through the crowded market.
Madison let out a low laugh. “Hardly.”
They were heading to the sky bridge when her phone went off, and she pulled it out of her pocket. Danielle had just left a messag
e.
Just checking in on you and wanted to update you on dad’s doctor appointment. Call when you can. No hurry.
“I need to call my sister,” she said, quickly pulling up the number. Jonas nodded at her as she put the phone to her ear. “Danielle . . . hey. Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine, but where are you? I can hardly hear you.”
“Sorry. I’m at Pike Place Market, working on a case, but I have a second. What’s the update on Dad? I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“Don’t worry about it. One of the main things we talked about was his anxiety. It’s not worse, but it’s definitely there. The positive thing is that Dr. Wang believes the drug Daddy’s been taking is slowing the decline in his memory.”
“That is good news.” Madison fidgeted with the zipper on her jacket, keeping up with Jonas as they entered the bridge. “Just because I’m back at work and can’t come by as often doesn’t mean I still won’t be as involved.”
“You’re fine, Madison. We’re fine. Please know that. What you’re doing is important.”
She tried to push away the guilt, but it had become a persistent companion. “I forgot to tell you. I spoke to my friend Carrie about cleaning your house once a week. She can do it Thursday afternoons if that’s okay with you—”
“You don’t have to do that.”
Madison stared out at the view from the sky bridge, past the Ferris wheel to Elliott Bay, trying to push back the emotions roiling inside her. “You have three kids and now Daddy. Hiring a housekeeper is the least I can do. Please. I want to do this.”
“I’ll let you, because it truly will help, but we’re in this together.”
“I know,” Madison said, as she and Jonas crossed the garage. “Which is why I want to be there for you.”
“And you are. I’ll talk to you soon. Stay safe out there.”
“I will.”
Jonas unlocked the car. The evidence response team had already showed up and blocked off part of the garage. The investigation would be handled by the Feds, so there was no reason for them to stay. Their job was to hunt down the fugitives.
“Is everything okay?” Jonas asked as they slid into the car.
“My father had a doctor appointment today. I had been taking him while I was off work. It’s just . . . it’s hard when you need to be in two places at the same time.”
“He knows you’re there for him and so does your sister.”
“I know.” She snapped on her seat belt.
“But you still feel guilty.”
“It’s hard not to. I don’t want Danielle to be stuck with the brunt of the responsibility, and yet in so many ways, there’s nothing I can do.”
Jonas pulled out of their parking spot, then headed for the exit. “I’d say you’re already finding things to do. I heard what you said. Hiring a housekeeper.”
“My sister has her hands full. It seems like the least I can do.”
“I’m sure she appreciates it.”
“I know she does.” She stared out the window, her senses still on high alert. “I want to keep Daddy home as long as we can, and yet at some point, I know Danielle won’t be able to handle things on her own. But we’re moving in that direction.”
“You’re thinking about a memory care facility?”
She breathed in sharply. “Do you think that’s a terrible option?”
“I think it can be a very positive option.” Jonas paid the parking fee, then pulled out of the garage. “My grandmother lived in one before she died, and it turned out to be a huge help. We could visit her as often as we wanted, while knowing she was getting the care she needed.”
“I think Daddy still has a while before we need to make a decision on getting additional help, but at some point . . .”
Thoughts of the way Alzheimer’s had already affected her father flooded her mind. The hardest part was watching the man she’d looked up to her entire life struggle to remember words or complete familiar tasks. And it was only going to get worse.
Her phone rang.
“Michaels”—she put the phone on speaker, then held it up between them—“what have you got?”
“Possible good news and also bad news.”
Madison sighed. “Let’s start with the good.”
“The Crime Scene Unit found a key in the van.”
Madison glanced at Jonas. “What kind of key?”
“It goes to a high-security padlock.”
“So maybe to a storage unit or a locker?” Jonas asked.
“Exactly.”
“Okay,” Madison said. “But we don’t even know if the key belonged to our fugitives, or to the owners of the van.”
“We talked to the owners,” Michaels said. “The key isn’t theirs.”
Madison’s mind worked through the information. “I think we can assume that they didn’t just have a plan to get out of the bank if things went wrong, but out of the city at a minimum and possibly out of the country.”
“Which means we need to find out what that key goes to,” Jonas said. “If it was in that van, it makes sense it was a part of their escape plan, and in the chaos, they dropped it.”
“Agreed,” Michaels said. “We’ll start at Kira’s house and go from there.”
“And the bad news?” Madison said, as Jonas pulled onto the freeway.
“I just got word from the hospital about the security guard.”
“And?”
There was a short pause on the line. “He died on the operating table about twenty minutes ago.”
Madison’s stomach clenched at the news. They could now officially add murder to their fugitives’ list of felonies.
EIGHT
It was almost noon when Madison and Jonas stepped under the yellow tape surrounding the bank and headed across the blocked-off section of the parking lot toward Special Agent Osborne, who was talking on his cell. A few local cops and FBI agents were still working, and the Crime Scene Unit was now stationed on the northeastern corner, where its team had begun processing the scene.
The FBI agent ended the call and nodded at them. “I heard the two of you were able to confirm the identities of two of our suspects.”
“Ben Galvan and his girlfriend, Kira Thornton,” Jonas said.
“Well, that’s a start. And I heard one of them was shot?”
Madison nodded. “We’ve got BOLOs out with updated information.”
“Let’s hope CSU can pull a rabbit out of a hat and get us something solid with that key we found,” Jonas said. “We need to ID the other two.”
“What about interviews with the hostages?” Madison asked.
“We’re finishing up with the statements,” Osborne said. “We’ll do follow-up if necessary.”
“We were told that we should talk to Barton Wells if he’s still here,” Madison said.
Osborne pointed to a slightly pudgy man wearing a blue suit who was talking animatedly to one of Osborne’s fellow agents. “They’ll be done talking in a few minutes, then he’s all yours.”
“I don’t remember seeing him inside the bank,” Madison said.
Osborne shook his head. “You wouldn’t have. He was in the safe-deposit room and had direct contact with one of the bank robbers. Your boss thought it might be worth your speaking to him. He’s actually running for mayor of Seattle.”
“I knew his name sounded familiar,” Jonas said.
Madison scanned the parking lot. Grace, the girl who’d had an asthma attack during the heist, sat on the curb, her knees pulled up to her chest again.
Madison signaled Jonas as she walked away. “I’ll be right back.”
She sat down next to the girl on the curb. “It’s Grace, right?”
The girl nodded. “You were the paramedic who got me my inhaler.”
“Yes, but I’m actually a Deputy US Marshal. I was sent in there to help everyone get out safely.”
“Wow. That’s cool. Thank you.”
“Of course. How are you
feeling?”
“Better, I guess. Still shaken up.”
“Can I get you anything?” Madison asked. “Some water?”
“I’m okay.”
“Have you already talked to the police?”
“Yeah.” She wrapped her arms more tightly around her knees. “I called my dad, and he told me to wait for him to pick me up. He should be here any minute now. I . . . I don’t think I can drive home.”
“That was a good decision.”
A moment of silence passed between them. Grace held up her trembling hand. “I can’t stop shaking. It all just plays in my mind over and over. They didn’t have to shoot the guard. He was just trying to help me.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I came in to get some cash,” she said, staring out across the parking lot. “It’s my dad’s birthday this weekend. I started working at the mall a couple months ago, and I was excited to actually have money. Then . . . I don’t know. It happened so fast. These three people stormed into the bank behind me, holding up their guns and shouting at everyone to dump their purses and phones in a pile on the ground, then sit down or they were going to shoot us. I just . . . I froze.”
“I don’t blame you at all,” Madison said, attempting to reassure the girl. “That had to be terrifying.”
“They started yelling at the tellers to give them money from their drawers. I could hear what was going on around me, but I . . .”
“You couldn’t breathe,” Madison said.
She nodded. “One of them came up to me and told me to lie on the ground or they were going to shoot me.”
“Did you notice anything about them that would help us identify them?”
“Not really. They all wore black and wore masks, but . . .” Grace looked up at her. “I do know that it was a woman.”