Off the Grid for Love

by Rena Koontz

  “Do you?”

  “I can’t say for sure, Demond. There’s definitely something going on with her but whether or not it’s connected to the bank robberies, I don’t know.”

  Demond breathed heavily into the phone. “Are you opposed to getting closer to her, feeling her out a little more?” He laughed. “Not feel her out in the physical sense but if that happens, you don’t have to share the details.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m bringing her in here tomorrow along with some other tellers from both branches. I want them to look at our photo files. Maybe someone will look familiar. I could ask a couple customers in as well, which would drop you into the mix. Give you a chance to talk to her again, maybe get a little friendlier. Might be too risky, though, since you’ve got Courtney’s case going. This building is off-limits to you.”

  Off limits was an understatement. But if Vinny was suspicious and spying on him, Jake had a legitimate reason for being at the FBI office since he’d been a real customer that day. And if Vinny asked, Jake could play up the angle that he balked at going there but didn’t know how to decline the FBI’s invite.

  The idea of seeing Kenna again appealed to him, but deceiving her to gain intelligence didn’t. He had no other reason to contact her, particularly since she flat-out asked him to leave her alone. Meeting her at the FBI’s request wouldn’t arouse suspicion and Demond was right, it would give him one more opportunity to talk to her. The unanswered question was how close did he want to get? The boss’s words echoed in his head. Had he issued a directive?

  Jake hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that impromptu smooch and her surprised response. Albeit briefly, she’d returned the kiss. Or had he simply imagined that because the idea enticed him? He’d resisted cuddling her and cooing words of reassurance when she broke down and cried at the coffee shop. But he sure wanted to take her in his arms at that moment.

  Demond misunderstood the silence when Jake didn’t immediately answer. “It was just a bad idea. Too risky for you and you already have a full plate so don’t worry about it.”

  Jake wasn’t going to close the door on this opportunity. “No, no, this could work. Let’s just keep it between me and you if it gets personal with Kenna, okay? Make sure the boss knows I’m coming in with the customers because you think I can work the suspect teller. He’ll balk but if Cabacolli has eyes on me, this might flush them out. What time is everyone coming in? I’ll be there.”

  What could it hurt? Kenna likely didn’t know anything anyway.

  ~ ~ ~

  Mackenna admonished herself for picking at and chewing the cuticle on her right thumb to the point where it started to bleed. Just a droplet at first, and then a growing bright red bubble. She took great care with her appearance, which included her hands and nails, especially since she presented that part of herself daily to each customer. But she was nervous as hell walking into the federal building. The very structure was intimidating, with its guarded entrance and metal detectors, darkened window panels, and the FBI insignia as big as a VW bug inlaid in the tile at the entrance. She pressed a tissue to her thumb.

  Even though Sandy, Matt, and several of the other tellers were also summoned to this photo line-up, she feared the agents would pay particular attention to her. After all, she was the true eyewitness. The others had merely been bystanders.

  Mr. Gleaner explained that morning that the agents scheduled the photo array after bank hours, even though there were no suspects. One today and one tomorrow, to accommodate everyone’s schedule. But they had specifically requested that Mackenna attend today’s session. Mr. Gleaner told her in private that he tried to delay her appearance so he could accompany her tomorrow but the case agent, Demond Crews, insisted she attend this particular session.

  In one sense, she was grateful for the command performance today when Mr. Gleaner was unavailable. He’d stepped up his efforts to see her outside the office and, in fact, was adamant that she meet him tonight after he finished his dinner meeting and her appointment with the FBI concluded. Sandy advised to simply decline, but the vibes Mackenna sensed were that Mr. Gleaner wouldn’t accept that. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about.

  She blotted her bleeding thumb while everyone sat in silence in the conference room, reminding her of a wake. That’s what it felt like. And she was the deceased. Whenever the door opened, each person looked up and nodded at a fellow teller or the handful of recognizable customers who apparently had also been contacted. Mackenna nodded to the elderly lady who’d been at Sandy’s window during the first robbery and smiled at a few regulars from her home branch.

  Her stomach grabbed when Jake the Jerk walked in. Same tight blue jeans, brown boots, and black leather jacket. He carried his helmet and ran his hand through his long hair, which fell back into place in an orderly unmanaged style, as if it were cut to do that. Inwardly, she smiled at her new designation for him. He’d transcended from the anonymous Motorcycle Man to the more personal Jake the Jerk.

  He spoke briefly to the agent signing everyone in, surveyed the room, and nodded when his gaze fell on her. Instead of taking the empty seat to Mackenna’s left, or any of the other available chairs, he chose to stand in the corner, his feet spread for balance and his hands crossed in front of him, the helmet dangling from its strap. The stance resembled a soldier standing guard. He must have some military background, despite his rebel appearance.

  Agent Crews introduced himself to the room and explained the purpose of the meeting. “I’m going to break you up into groups of fours and show you some photos of known felons. I ask that you don’t exchange impressions so as not to influence the person next to you. Take your time to ensure that everyone has a chance to view each photo before moving on.”

  He checked his clipboard, pointed to people in no particular order and relocated them. If there was a method to his selection process, Mackenna couldn’t detect it. The next thing she knew, she sat at a round table with a rotund man and an elderly woman, both unfamiliar to her, and Jake the Jerk. Wordlessly, he nodded to her a second time and perched at her left elbow.

  The agent placed a tablet-sized computer screen in the middle of the group. “The screen is pre-set to show one digital picture at a time. Raise your hand if you have any questions.”

  Jake nudged the screen toward her. “You had the best view. You might as well do the honors.”

  With an unsteady hand, Mackenna tapped the screen and the first face appeared. The two strangers on her right moved in closer for a better view as did Jake, who casually placed his arm on the back of her chair and leaned close enough that his cologne teased her nose. It was the faintest scent of cedar, transporting her outdoors and into the woods.

  “C’mon, lady, I ain’t got all day. Can’t you move those pictures a little faster?” Beneath the table the man she didn’t recognize bounced his right leg vigorously, causing the table to vibrate. Beside her, Jake tensed.

  “I want to be sure I don’t miss him, sir. I plan to take my time. Perhaps you should ask to move to another section if you are in that great a hurry.”

  He expelled a heavy breath, leaving little doubt he ate a hoagie with onions for lunch, but he didn’t comment further. In her ear, Jake whispered, “Atta girl.” His words warmed her.

  She could pick out distinctive features from the various pictures—a square chin, eyebrows trimmed as if they’d been tweezed, a tan complexion—but none of the pictures combined to portray the face of either bank robber. Around her some of the tables emptied but she took the time to study each photo, sometimes closing her eyes to bring the real robbers’ faces clearer to the forefront of her mind.

  When all the images started to blur, she sat back and rubbed her temples.

  “It isn’t any of these,” she said to the table. “Neither one of the men are in this array.”

&nbs
p; The big man shoved his chair back. “Well then, that’s it. I’m out of here.” He saluted his tablemates and strolled to the agent running the meeting. After signing something, he left.

  Beside her, the woman gathered her purse and sweater. She squeezed Mackenna’s arm. “Don’t worry dear, they’ll catch him. I watch a lot of police shows. The FBI always gets their man.” She teetered off toward the door.

  Mackenna smiled at the woman’s attempt to reassure her. Once again, she’d been unable to contribute to the investigation. She looked up when Agent Crews approached the table.

  “No luck?”

  “No, sir. I’m sorry.”

  When he focused on Jake, he shook his head. “Nothing. Sorry.”

  The agent faced her again. “What bank branch will you be working at tomorrow, Miss McElroy?”

  She caught her breath. Why did he ask that?

  “I’m assigned to the East Seventh Street branch for two weeks, agent. I’m filling in for someone on vacation. Why do you ask?”

  He smiled, or smirked, she wasn’t certain. “We want to keep an eye on you, that’s all. Thank you for coming in. We’ll be in touch.” As he moved away from them, she felt her shoulders sag with the weight of his words. Her intuition had been correct. They suspected her.

  Jake cleared his throat. “They do that kind of thing to intimidate you. Don’t let him scare you.”

  She leveled watery eyes on his. “But I am scared. My whole life is going to hell right now. And they think I know more than I’m saying. But I swear to you, I don’t.”

  His arm moved from the back of her chair to squeeze her shoulder. “If you told the truth you have nothing to worry about. C’mon, I’ll walk you out.” He stood and waited for her as the last table of four also rose.

  Having him hold her elbow once they signed out and moved down the hall comforted her somehow. They rode the elevator in silence to the first floor and he resumed his grasp out the front door and to the parking lot where, once again, life dropped her to the mat. Her left rear tire had gone flat. Was it possible to sink any lower? She had no money for car repairs.

  “Are you kidding me? Am I cursed, or what?” It didn’t help but she kicked the traitorous tire.

  Jake knelt for a closer look at the flat. “Looks like you’re waiting on the auto club to fix this. Unless you let me rescue you. I’ll call my buddy who runs a towing service. He’ll pick up the car, fix the tire and haul it to your place no charge. He owes me a couple of favors.”

  “You don’t need to do that.”

  He scanned the visitor’s parking lot. Only three cars remained. “Well, I can’t very well leave you standing alone in this empty parking lot. My mama would skin me alive if she found out. I’ll be happy to give you a ride. It’s after six and will be dark soon and I think the rest of your co-workers are already gone so your options are limited. I haven’t eaten all day and I’m famished. We can grab a fast bite on the way home.”

  “Look, Jake, I appreciate that you’re trying to be friendly and twice now, you’ve kind of rescued me. But I don’t know you and I don’t want to be your friend. I’ll handle this. I—”

  ~ ~ ~

  When Mackenna viewed her ringing cell phone screen, she cursed. “Damn it.”

  Jake inspected the tire more closely while she spoke, pretending not to listen. No obvious reason for it to be flat unless one of the agents inside made sure the air escaped. Leave it to Demond to go the extra mile.

  “Hi, Mr., er, Ted. Listen, I can’t meet you tonight. I just left the FBI office and I have a flat tire.” Ted was the same name she identified as the caller in the mall parking lot, the one she avoided seeing by fabricating a lie. Whoever the caller was, he was persistent. Competition? He’d back off if she was interested in another man. Begrudgingly, but he’d do it.

  Only from the sounds of this conversation, Mr. Right wasn’t on the other end of the line.

  Kenna spoke again. “That won’t be necessary, sir. Oh, you’re right, Ted. My friend is already here with me and he’s going to make sure I get home and my car gets towed. No, he’s already called someone and I, um, yes, I think the truck is coming now. I better hang up. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

  She ended the call and looked at him like a six-year-old caught telling a whopper of a fib. But those eyes of hers looked more than guilty. She looked defeated.

  “Someone you work with?”

  “My boss. He’s pressuring me to see him and I don’t know what to do.”

  A quick shot of anger surged through him. Had he seen her boss at the bank? He hated men who preyed on vulnerable women. “That’s called harassment. You don’t have to put up with that.”

  Her gaze dropped to her feet. “Yeah, well, that’s easy for you to say. He can make my job miserable if he wants, even fire me. And believe me, I can’t afford that.”

  Barely a buck in the bank, Demond had said. She was well dressed, educated, and she held her head high with an air of sophistication. Why was she broke? Gambling? Drugs? Booze? She didn’t fit any of the profiles.

  “That’s exactly why it’s illegal, Kenna. He can’t force you to see him. I have—”

  She raised her hand and her voice at the same time. “Jake, please. I can’t handle a lecture about sexual harassment tonight. I can’t handle much more of anything. I swear I’m on the verge of a breakdown. If one more thing goes wrong in my life, it will be my undoing. So please, leave me alone so I can think this through and figure out what I’m going to do about my car.”

  She didn’t need to be left alone, she needed help. He recognized borderline despair when he saw it.

  “Are you an auto club member?”

  “No.” Her response resembled a croak, as if she choked back tears.

  He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved his phone. As he dialed, he gifted her with his most charming smile, hoping to reassure her. “Well, now I know what to buy you for Christmas.” Her jaw dropped as he spoke into the phone and recited the make, model, and license number of her Taurus, offered up the location, and requested it be towed as soon as possible.

  “What’s your address, Kenna?”

  She stammered and shook her head no.

  Damn, she was so secretive. Maybe she was a freakin’ criminal. “Tow it to the Good Neighbor bank on East Seventh Street. She’ll be working there tomorrow. Put the keys in an envelope and toss them in the night deposit box. Thanks.”

  He tucked the phone back into his pocket. “Yes, I’m butting into your business and I’m being as pushy as your boss. Except my intentions are honorable.

  “You, on the other hand, are being stubborn and bullheaded because right now, you need assistance.” He spread his arms wide. “It’s a no-strings-attached offer. I’ll give you a lift wherever you want to go. I’d like to stop and get something to eat, but if you’re not comfortable doing that, then fine. My stomach can growl all the way to our destination.”

  At least that made her smile. “You don’t like me, I get that. I’m a stranger. But if you called a cab right now, you’d be accepting a ride from a stranger so what’s the difference? Leave your keys under the floor mat. There’s a security guard at the end of this parking lot so your car won’t disappear. We’ll tell him about the tow truck on the way out.”

  She hesitated.

  He stretched his hand toward her. “C’mon, Kenna, let’s get out of here.”

  She eyed it warily before slipping her hand into his, sending a surge of heat up his arm. Her cold hand trembled when he wrapped his fingers around it and tugged lightly. “I’m parked over here.”

  Her first steps were tentative, and then she fell in beside him as she eyed the shining copper bike.

  “Well one thing went right today. I’m glad I wore a pantsuit. I’ve never ridden a mot
orcycle before.”

  “No? I think you’ll love it. It’s a sense of release, like a rush of freedom.”

  “What if I’m afraid?”

  His head jerked involuntarily. “You don’t have to be afraid of anything with me, honey.”

  Their eyes locked.

  “Let me adjust this helmet so it fits you better.”

  He handed her the spare helmet and, once on her head, he adjusted the angle and tugged at the chin strap, keenly aware of the smoothness of her cheek against his knuckles. “I can tuck your purse into this saddlebag if you like, or you can hold on to it.” Wordlessly she handed him her bag and he stowed it. Then he slipped out of his leather jacket and held it open expectantly.

  “Just in case we wipe out, this will protect you.”

  Her eyebrows hiked. “Are we going to wipe out?”

  “No, ma’am. But my mama taught me to take care of precious cargo.” She slipped into his jacket and drew it close, causing him to smile. Too bad it wasn’t his arms wrapping her in warmth.

  He dropped the passenger foot pegs and instructed her to keep her legs away from the exhaust pipe.

  “I’ll board and then you climb on behind me. Just extend your right leg over the seat and slide gently up onto it. Drop your feet on the foot pegs and keep them there. Don’t put them down when we stop. Do you think you can throw your leg over the seat with those heels on?” Sexy, tan stilettos peeked out from the hem of cream pants with thin, coffee-colored stripes. The pattern of her jacket was the opposite, threads of white on brown. Conservative yet hot. Did she know how provocative she could be?