Progression Series 05 Wrong Place Wrong Time

by Beth Manz

  But as he stared at the logo on the back of Arnie's tee-shirt, another thought struck him. Jim's wearing his Cascade PD sweatshirt! His heart pounded in his chest. His gaze darted back to his partner. Jim lay on his stomach, the front of his shirt obscured from view. If these guys figure out he's a cop...

  "You!"

  Blair jumped, startled by the voice so close to him. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts about Jim that he hadn't noticed the leader of the group approaching him. He rolled over a bit so he could look up at the man. But the first thing he saw was the tall man's gun--the barrel aimed directly at his head.

  "Join the rest of the group," the leader snapped.

  "Hey, no problem, man." Blair got to his feet and raised his hands. His gaze darted briefly to Jim before returning to the gun that was now pointed at his chest. He lowered his right hand and reached down for his backpack.

  The man grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him forward. "Leave it!" Then slipping behind Blair, he shoved him toward the small group of hostages lying near the teller windows.

  "Cal! You don't have to be so rough," the girl--Emily--protested from behind the counter.

  "Just get the money," the leader--Cal, she'd called him--snapped. "And put a move on it! You're taking too long!"

  "I can't get this second drawer open," she complained.

  A hand fell on Blair's shoulder, stopping him. "What's wrong with the drawer?" Cal called over to Emily.

  "I think it's locked."

  "Where's the key?" he demanded. And although Blair knew that Cal's question--and his anger--were directed at the cowering tellers, the gun was digging into his back.

  "Hey, would you just relax, man?" Blair suggested.

  "Shut up!" Rough fingers dug into his shoulder. "Where's the key!"

  "I don't have it," the younger teller blurted out. "Only the manager has a key to the drawers."

  "The manager," Cal repeated softly to himself. "Shit!"

  Suddenly, Blair felt himself being turned to face the office where he had seen the manager earlier. "Whoever's back there, come out. Now!" Cal yelled. The gun, still pressed against Blair's back, dug deeper, making him flinch in pain.

  "You have thirty seconds to come out," Cal yelled toward the office, "Or I put a bullet in this guy."

  /

  /

  /

  Sheriff Claude Kendall wiped his mouth with his fingers in an attempt to dust away the last flakes of the powdered donut he'd just consumed. Looking down, he brushed at the crumbs that had gathered on the front of his tan uniform. He inspected his efforts, then rested his hand lightly against his stomach where the uniform was pulled taut. Too many years of light duty in the seasonal tourist town of Deer Creek and too many powdered donuts from Sherry's Donut Hut out on Route 9 had left him with a noticeable paunch.

  He scowled as his thoughts turned to Wanda, his wife of twenty-one years. Wanda was constantly on his back about his weight--constantly nagging and harping. She'd have an absolute kicking and screaming fit if she knew he spent every one of his afternoon breaks at the Donut Hut, where he ordered a large coffee with cream and four mouth-watering powdered donuts.

  Pulling the white paper bag from Sherry's into his lap, Sheriff Kendall reached in and lifted out the last of the four donuts. So he had his paunchy stomach? Wanda had her worn chenille robe and those spongy pink roller things. Even trade-off, he figured.

  The donut was halfway to his mouth when his two-way radio crackled to life. "Claude, you there?"

  Sighing deeply, Kendall dropped the uneaten donut back into the bag and dusted the powdered sugar from his fingers. Snatching up the microphone, he answered the dispatcher: "Yup, I'm here. Go ahead."

  "We have a silent alarm going off over at the bank. You want me to send Will over?"

  "Where is he?"

  "Out taking a run around Watson Park, making sure everything's okay out there."

  "No, don't call him in. I'll handle it. Probably another false alarm, like last month."

  "They really ought to get that thing fixed, Sheriff," the dispatcher's voice lectured.

  "I'll talk to the manager about it again. I'm on my way."

  Placing the microphone back into its cradle, Kendall started the police cruiser's engine, shifted the car into gear, and drove to the exit. Turning right onto Route 9, he headed toward town.

  /

  /

  /

  Jim tensed, his gaze locked on the man who held a gun to his partner's back.

  When the three robbers first entered the bank, Jim had realized almost immediately that two of them were carrying fake guns, good imitations that would probably fool most people. But Jim wasn't most people--he was a cop... and a sentinel. He knew the difference. The moment he'd realized the guns were fakes he'd thought he could end this whole thing quickly, easily. Except he'd forgotten that he didn't have his weapon on him.

  So he had decided to play along instead. After all, these three were obviously not professionals. They were using their names, carrying phony guns, and their hearts were pounding wildly in their chests. They were young, Jim was sure of that. Possibly even younger than Sandburg. They wore ratty jeans and tee-shirts, and the girl's long blonde hair hung down beyond the bottom of her ski mask. Jim had no doubt they'd be easy to track down. So he'd planned to just wait it out, let them take the money and then help the local police sort it out.

  But that plan had changed the second the trio's leader had jammed his gun--the only real gun among the three--into Blair's back. Now, Jim was prepared to do whatever it took to keep his partner safe.

  "Ten seconds!" Cal yelled, still waiting for the bank manager to show himself. The tall man fidgeted, either from anger or nervousness--Jim couldn't tell which. Either way, it made the man dangerous, a ticking bomb waiting to explode. Jim's eyes tracked down, to the gun barrel digging into his partner's lower back.

  Come out, dammit! Just come out! And--as if hearing Jim's silent command--a balding, middle-aged man stepped into the doorway of the back office.

  "I'm not armed," the manager said, his hands held up at his sides, his eyes wide with fear.

  "You have the key to that money drawer?" Cal asked, cocking his head toward the teller window where Emily stood.

  The manager nodded.

  "Open it."

  Jim relaxed slightly as Blair was released, the gun pulled away from his back. The bank manager moved quickly, crossing close to the place where Cal and Blair stood, digging in his pocket for his keys as he walked. Jim licked his lips, his gaze sweeping the room, skimming across the other people in the bank. The mother was holding her daughter close, covering her head, whispering soft reassurances in her ear. The older gentleman and the middle-aged woman lay side by side, both with their heads down and their eyes closed. The two tellers were huddled close as well, the younger one still weeping softly.

  He looked back to Blair as his partner walked slowly toward him, the manager at his side. Cal was behind them both, his gun trained on their backs.

  That's right. Just take it nice and easy, Chief.

  Jim didn't think he had to worry about any of the other people in the bank trying to play hero--they were obviously too traumatized for that. And he was sure his partner had come to the same conclusion he had--it was not worth the risk of trying to stop these three. They would just let these clowns take the money and go.

  But that scenario was blown apart when Arnie, still standing guard near the front entrance, suddenly called out... "Cal? A sheriff's car just pulled up out front, man!"

  Dammit! Just what we don't need!

  Jim's watched Cal carefully--tried to gauge his reaction, anticipate his next move.

  "What now, Jim?"

  Ellison shifted his attention to Blair as his partner's whispered words reached him. Blair stood stiffly, his hands still held up at his sides, his worried gaze locked forward.

  Just don't move, Jim urged silently, his attention drawn back to Cal. He could
hear the man's heart slamming against his ribs, could see the slight shaking of his hand. Cal was on the verge of losing control.

  Can I get that gun away from him without it going off and shooting Blair or the manager in the back? Am I close enough to pull that off?

  The thoughts churned through his mind. But before Jim could decide what to do, Cal grabbed the manager by the shoulder and spun him around to face him. "Did you set off an alarm?"

  "It's... it's procedure," the man whispered, cowering back.

  "You son of a bitch!" Cal struck out, hitting the man across the cheek with the butt of the gun.

  One of the tellers screamed as the balding man staggered backward into Blair. Turning and catching the manager's arm, Sandburg steadied him, then helped ease him down to the floor. Blood trailed down the side of the man's face and his breath came in frightened gasps.

  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he murmured over and over, one hand covering the cut on his face, the other held out in front of him, trying to shield himself from further attack.

  Cal stalked toward the manager, his eyes dark with anger, his knuckles white from the grip he had on his gun.

  "Hey," Blair said, straightening and moving to block Cal from the bank manager. "Take it easy, man. He was just doing his job."

  Jim tensed as Cal's anger...and the barrel of his gun, were aimed at Blair. He could hear his guide's heart beating hard and fast in his chest, but any fear the young man was feeling did not show in his face. Sandburg held his ground, staring evenly back at Cal, keeping himself in front of the injured man.

  "Why don't you just give yourselves up?" Jim said, hoping to pull the attention away from his partner. It worked. As he watched, Cal shifted his gun away from Blair, moving it until the barrel was pointed at Jim.

  "Shut up!" Cal bit out, blinking rapidly in annoyance.

  "Oh, man! Another cop car just pulled up!" Arnie cried out, his voice shrill with fright.

  "Cal, this isn't the way it was supposed to be!" Emily shouted from behind the counter.

  Cal's wild gaze darted from Emily to Arnie to the shaded windows. The gun he held in his hand began to shake; Jim saw his fingers flex and grip the barrel tighter as Cal attempted to quell his nervousness.

  "Listen," Jim said softly, soothingly, "Just give yourselves up now and it'll go down easier on you."

  "I thought I told you to shut up!" Cal screamed.

  Behind Cal, Blair crouched down in front of the bank manager. Cal spun toward him, the gun once again aimed at Blair's back. "What are you doing?"

  Blair looked up over his shoulder. "He's cut. I need something to clean him up."

  Cal moved a step closer, kept his gun trained on the two men on the floor. "I want the key to that drawer."

  Blair turned back to the injured man before him. "Give me the key," he said gently. "I'll unlock it for you."

  "What about those cops out front?" Jim asked as he watched Blair stand and walk to the teller's counter with the bank manager's key. As his partner slid behind the counter, he looked up at Cal. "How do you plan to get out of here once you have that money?"

  "Shut! Up!" Cal exploded, his gun pointing at Jim, the barrel shaking violently. "Just shut up and let me think!" He kept the gun trained on Jim another few seconds before stalking away. He began pacing, running his free hand across the crown of the ski mask he wore, his eyes shifting from side to side as he tried to figure out what to do.

  Jim studied the other two bank robbers. The girl behind the counter with Blair was shaking visibly, obviously scared out of her mind. And Arnie had plastered himself flat against the wall near the lobby door, muttering to himself that they never should have done this, that he knew they'd get caught.

  Just give it up, Jim pleaded silently with Cal, his back beginning to ache from being in the same position on the floor for so long.

  "You," Cal said at last, looking over at Blair. "Mr. Good Samaritan! Find something back there to tie these people up with."

  Blair's gaze darted briefly to Jim before locking on Cal. "Why?" he asked, the single word laced with worry.

  "Because I'm taking everyone hostage, genius," Cal spat out.

  Even without his sentinel hearing, Jim would have easily heard Emily's gasp. This was obviously not part of the plan, not something she was happy about. "Cal, maybe we should-"

  "What?" he cut in, his voice savage with anger. "You wanna give yourself up, Emily? Huh? You wanna go to jail?"

  The girl blinked back tears and shook her head meekly. "No," she mumbled.

  "I didn't think so." He paced forward, the gun held out before him. He pointed the barrel at Blair again. "Why aren't you searching?"

  /

  /

  /

  Sheriff Kendall squatted behind his cruiser, his arms extended over the hood of the car, his gun aimed at the bank doors. "All right, I have you covered, Will," he called out to his deputy. "Get over here."

  Out of the corner of his eye, Kendall saw Will leave the relative safety of his cruiser, then dash quickly across the open space between the two vehicles. Coming to a halt next to the sheriff, Will squatted down beside him and whispered, "Can you see how many there are?"

  "No," Kendall answered, glancing over at his deputy for a brief second. "I've only been able to spot the one at the door so far."

  It had only taken Sheriff Kendall a few moments to realize that the alarm at the bank wasn't going to turn out to be another tripped circuit or crossed wire. He'd casually driven his cruiser up to the front door, intending to walk into the bank and confront the manager about another annoying false alarm. The possibility of an actual robbery had never even entered his mind. In his twenty-five years on the force in Deer Creek--first as a deputy and then as the town's sheriff--there had never been a robbery at the bank. There had never had anything but the troublesome false alarms that had plagued the sheriff and his deputy ever since the bank manager had had that new alarm system installed last spring...

  "We gotta call in some help, Claude," Will said, rousing the sheriff from his thoughts. His voice was pleading, almost panicked. "It's just the two of us--we are way over our heads here."

  The sheriff studied the face of his deputy for a long moment, saw the fear in his eyes. He reached over and clasped a beefy hand on Will's slim shoulder. Smiling, he nodded and said, "You stay here. Keep your gun trained on that front door, you hear?"

  Will nodded, then took up a defensive position behind the car. Sheriff Kendall scooted around him and pulled open the passenger side door of his police cruiser. Keeping his head down, he reached in and pulled the radio microphone from its cradle. "Base?"

  "Go ahead, Claude," the dispatcher answered pleasantly.

  "I'm at the bank. Turns out we're not dealing with a false alarm here after all."

  There was a moment's stunned silence on the other end and then the dispatcher's voice came across the line again. "You're jokin' me, Claude!" she gushed, her voice projecting awe, even excitement. "You mean we got a real robbery goin' down over there?"

  "That's what I said, isn't it?" The sheriff exhaled a frustrated sigh and rubbed impatiently at his eyes. "You better patch me through to the State Patrol. Now!"

  /

  /

  /

  Blair pulled open a third drawer, then a fourth. He was finding nothing that would serve as a means to bind the hostages' hands. Nothing! And then he saw it--a thick roll of packing tape. He pulled it out of the drawer and held it up for Cal's inspection. "How about this?"

  Cal eyed it. "Fine," he pronounced simply. "Now get out here and tie these people up."

  Blair glanced quickly at the girl beside him. Although he couldn't see her face because of the ski mask she still wore, he could see her eyes. They were wide, afraid. And gentle. This girl was not a bank robber. And although he couldn't be positive, he thought that the gun she held wasn't real.

  "Move!" Cal shouted at him.

  Not wanting to incur any additional wrath from Cal, Blair scoot
ed out from behind the counter, the roll of tape in his hand.

  "Start with Mr. Big Mouth here," Cal said, gesturing toward Jim. "Sit up and put your hands behind your back," he ordered the sentinel.

  As Blair watched, Jim shifted his position on the floor, moving until he was sitting cross-legged on the floor.

  Maybe he won't notice his sweatshirt, Blair hoped desperately. Even if he does, he might not realize it's a police logo. Maybe--

  "You're a cop!" Cal blurted out, his eyes widening as he took in the front of Jim's shirt.

  "Surprise," Jim said dryly.

  "He's a cop?" Arnie whined pitifully from his location at the door. "Oh, man! This is bad. This is so bad!"

  "Shut up!" Cal shouted. He pointed his weapon down at Jim. "You got a gun on you, cop?"

  Jim shook his head slowly. "No. I'm on vacation."

  Cal snorted softly. "Your bad luck, huh?" He glanced briefly at the front doors, then back to Jim. "How much trouble are we in?"

  Jim stared up at him, saying nothing.

  "Tell me!" Cal demanded. When Jim remained silent, Cal drew back and hit the detective across the face with his gun. Jim's head snapped to the side. He let out a grunt of pain.

  Blair rushed forward, driven by the need to protect his friend. "Hey!" he shouted, drawing Cal's attention away from Jim, "You don't want to go messing with a cop, man!"

  Cal glared at him. "Back off," he growled, "I know what I'm doing." He raised his hand again.

  "Listen man," Blair said, moving in front of his friend, blocking Jim from Cal's view. He held his hand out, placating, but the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes were calm, knowing: "I'm telling you right now--you mess with him, it's like you're messing with every cop outside."

  Cal let out a short laugh. "Look at his shirt. Cascade PD. He's from out of town!"

  "It doesn't matter. Cops are like brothers, man. They've got this big fraternal thing going. You hurt one, the rest of them come after you." He gestured back toward Jim. "You really want every cop in this state after you because of this guy?"

  Cal's eyes narrowed as he looked at Blair. "Sounds like you might've had your own share of trouble with cops."

  Blair blinked several times as Cal's words washed over him. "You have no idea, man," he said, the lie coming quickly. "Trust me. I know what I'm talking about and you don't want to do this."