by Rena Koontz
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 chuckl
ing, 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.”
Chapter 22
Mackenna’s whispered words hung between them. Agent Crews stared at her before finally leaning forward. “My apologies. I didn’t hear what you said.”
She straightened her spine and repeated words she never thought she’d utter. “A lawyer. I’d like a lawyer present. You said it was my right.”
Agent Crews tilted his head. “Only guilty people ask for their lawyers, Miss McElroy. Are you sure that’s the position you want to take?”
How much did an attorney cost? Where would she find one? Would the lawyer believe her story? Mackenna wasn’t sure she believed it. She studied the bank statement. How could this be? Where did the money come from? Five-hundred dollars. Nine hundred.
Suddenly, the afternoon Mr. Gleaner attempted to rape her leapt to life. Hadn’t he said he’d deposit money into her account if she gave him what he wanted? What were the amounts he said he’d deposit? Nine hundred dollars to cover her rent payment. She remembered that clearly.
Mackenna raised her eyes to Agent Crews’ unwavering stare. Could she tell him about Mr. Gleaner and her sexual harassment complaint against him? Was it possible to be even more humiliated?
“I might know the origin of some of these deposits, sir.”
Agent Crews sat up straighter. “So, you’re willing to discuss this without a lawyer present?”
Mackenna’s eyes widened. “No. No, I think I should retain a lawyer.”
“Then this conversation is over, Miss McElroy. Have your attorney contact me. Soon. The sooner the better for your sake. And I caution you, Miss McElroy, don’t make me come after you.” He flipped a business card toward her. “The next time we meet, I’ll expect you to be more forthcoming or you can plan to spend the night in a federal holding cell.”
She was unable to stop the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes. Agent Crews rose and without looking at her said, “Stay here. I’ll arrange to transport you back to your car at the bank.”
The room closed in on her despite him leaving the door open. Every bone in her body turned to mush. She couldn’t stand if her life depended on it. The return ride in the backseat of an unmarked car was solemn, like a funeral procession. Her funeral. A sign announcing the bank was closed due to a robbery hung in the front door and all the lights were out inside. Hers was the sole car in the parking lot.
One foot in front of the other to reach it while the agent who chauffeured her watched. Unlock the door and slip into the driver’s seat. Close the door and start the engine. She was numb, operating on automatic pilot. No appetite. No plan. No desire to live.
She drove to her temporary apartment, her eyes automatically finding Jake’s balcony. Was he home? She’d want to talk to him before . . . before what? Her arrest?
The FBI had her under surveillance but she prayed it was while she lived at her apartment. Did they know she’d relocated to Jake’s building? If they knew about Jake, maybe they’d seen them move her clothes inside. But that required waiting inside the underground garage that day, which was unlikely. She favored the odds that their information was limited to the knowledge that she’d dated Jake.
After parking in the tenant’s underground parking lot, she walked outside to the front of the building and surveyed the area. The street was quiet. She didn’t see any cars that resembled the dark unmarked cars like the FBI agents drove. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Maybe they were waiting for her to arrive at her old apartment. Dear Lord, please let that be the case. If the agents were at her old building, it bought her some time.
But if they knew she’d relocated, knew she was in this building now, would they know which apartment she was in? What if in the middle of the night they broke down the door and arrested her? She’d seen it happen on TV. The building manager was an amiable type and certainly someone who’d cooperate with a group of feds who flashed badges in his face. He’d spill his guts immediately.
No, she wasn’t safe in that new place. But she should be safe at Jake’s. She’d known that instinctively the first time she woke up there, nursing a hangover. Was he home? Was he in a similar situation, looking for a lawyer to save his ass? Maybe they could negotiate a two-for-one deal with someone.
She dialed Jake’s cell but her call went to voice mail. Instead of leaving a message, she hung up and rode the elevator to his floor. After knocking twice and calling to him, she accepted that he wasn’t home. Certainly he wouldn’t mind if she hid out there but that wasn’t possible if she couldn’t get in. Her thoughts returned to the manager who’d seemed friendly with Jake. Maybe he could be persuaded to give Mackenna access.
But time was of the essence. The management office closed at nine on weeknights. Fifteen minutes from now. Mackenna stood outside his office and counted to ten. Then she took two deep breaths in through the nose and out through the mouth, tilted her chin upward, and mustered a bright smile. The manager looked up from his desk when she entered.
“Hi, Miss McElroy. I was just locking up. How can I help you?”
Her phone buzzed, and she slid her hand into her pocket to silence it. She couldn’t lose her nerve now.
“Have you heard the news about Jake?” He didn’t appear the news channel type. Behind him, black-and-white Andy Griffith reruns played on a thirteen-inch flat screen.
“No. What news?”
She shrugged as if it was no big deal. “He’s in a bind. Says it’s all a misunderstanding.” Was it? She wanted to believe that with all her heart. What had he asked of her this morning? Have faith in me, he whispered. Did she dare? He’d believed in her when he barely knew her.
“He needs a fresh shirt and some important papers. Can you let me into his apartment to collect the items? I was at work all day and wasn’t able to see him to take his key.”
The manager hesitated. “Sorry, but that’s not company policy.”
She nodded. “Yeah, Jake told me. But listen, you can let me in and stay right there with me while I grab the things he needs. That way I’m not in the place alone and you can lock up behind me. That shouldn’t violate the rules, should it? Jake needs several files he left on his desk to, ah, clear up this mess.”
The manager looked up at the wall clock. “I’m about ready to leave for the night.”
Mackenna smiled and nodded her understanding. “It’s important for me to find those files for Jake tonight. I’ll be quick, I promise.”
He mulled
the idea for all of thirty seconds before rising and going to a cabinet comprised of three-inch-by-three-inch drawers. Her phone vibrated against her thigh while his finger coasted down the columns until he found Jake’s apartment number and extracted a key. If she missed a call from Jake she’d kick herself.
“Nah, I don’t need to come with you. I know you and him are”—he paused, blushed, and grinned—“well, he told me when he set up the rent payments that you were special to him. I know you’re a lot more than casual friends. Based on the way he talked, I didn’t understand why you didn’t move in with him to begin with. But I guess appearances matter.”
Mackenna stopped breathing for a second when he said Jake arranged to pay her rent. She knew it. There wasn’t an apartment owner on earth who’d allow a squatter to stay scot-free. She tucked that bit of information in the back of her mind for now. She’d have it out with Jake later.
She was special to Jake? He’d told the manager that? Her heart fluttered. She’d ask about that as well.
She shrugged. “Yeah, well, things aren’t always what they seem.”
He stretched his hand toward her. “Try to hurry, okay? I’ll wait on you. I shouldn’t leave until you return the key.”
Mackenna reached for the shiny gold key. “Fifteen minutes tops including elevator time. I’ll bring it right back. Thank you.”