Mission

by Camilla Chafer

  "Kind of." I shrugged. It was hard to calculate an exact figure of how many relatives were serving members on the force, and even more who were retired, including my father. Not all of us were surnamed Graves — my mom was an O'Shaughnessy prior to marriage — but if you threw a stone at a police function, you were almost certain to hit someone with, or related to, Graves' blood.

  "Are you on the force too? You don't look familiar." He squinted like he was trying to place me.

  "Nope," I said. "Put your head back on the ground and try to relax."

  Within minutes, the wail of sirens reached me. The crowd that ran to the main entry now had the last stragglers joining them before they hammered on the closed glass doors with their fists and pulled on the handles. The doors remained wedged shut. Only me, the cop, the security guard, and the mom and boy were left in the middle of the room, watching the madness expand around us.

  "Are you a doctor?" asked the boy, watching me intently.

  "No. Are you?" I asked.

  "No," he said. "I'm seven."

  "You're very brave for a seven-year-old. What's your secret?"

  He thought about it. "I guess it doesn't make sense not to be."

  I nodded. "That's pretty smart thinking."

  "She's a nurse," said his mom. "The lady said so, remember?"

  "That was a lie," I told them, shrugging. "I figured they wouldn't check."

  The little boy glanced at the man and screwed his face up in thought. "That seems like an okay lie," he decided. "Is he gonna die?" he asked, watching the cop more intently now.

  "No," said the cop. "It's just going to suck for a while. I'm Officer Andersen."

  "I'm Jake," said the boy.

  "I'm exhausted," said his mom.

  "I'm going to check on those doors," said the security guard. "I don't know why they aren't opening."

  "Is there a safety measure in place that locks them?" I asked.

  "Yeah, when the security alarm is pressed. One of the tellers must have done that," he said. "There aren't many people who can reset it. The bank manager being just one of them." He winced and I knew what he was thinking. Was the bank manager dead? No one emerged through the internal doors since the explosion and I saw no reason for them to kidnap him if they already got what they came for. I glanced over at the tellers again. My bag of cash remained exactly where I left it. I couldn't understand why they didn't grab it. Ten thousand dollars in untraceable bills was a lot of money.

  "They closed the big wooden doors too," said Jake. "I never saw them closed before. Right, Mom?"

  "Right, honey," agreed his mom.

  We all glanced over in time to see the heavy wooden doors pushed open, and several uniformed officers crowded through, their weapons drawn. The crowd didn't stop hammering at the glass doors until they finally opened. Instead of allowing them to spill out onto the sidewalk, the officers herded the group backwards into a corner of the bank, making them sit with their hands on top of their heads. The police officers fanned out but I already knew they wouldn't find anyone.

  "We need help over here," I called out. "The bank robbers are gone. Those people are innocent bystanders."

  The nearest officer squinted at me. "Lexi?" she asked.

  "Hi, Tara!" I grinned, relieved to see a familiar face.

  My cousin, recently returned to Montgomery from several years on the force in Chicago, holstered her weapon and jogged over to us. She clicked the radio at her chest and instructed the EMTs to enter. Within minutes, the bank was flooded with police officers and a pair of paramedics rushed in with a gurney and their huge medical bags. The EMTs took over from me and I rocked back on my heels, wiping my bloodied hands on my yoga pants.

  "That's a lot of blood," said Jake, looking very worried now.

  "It looks like more than it really is," I told him. "I know it appears scary but it's okay."

  "Okay," he said, nodding but still visibly skeptical.

  "Are you hurt, ma'am?" one of the EMTs asked me. I shook my head and assured her I was fine but she insisted on waving a light in my eyes and checking my pulse until I shooed her away.

  "She's over here," I heard Tara say before I separated from Jake and his mom in the whirlwind of my brothers’ arrival. All of them asked to know what happened and checked me over for any obvious signs of injury.

  "I'm fine, I'm fine," I told them a dozen times.

  "That's a lot of blood. Are you sure you're not injured?" asked Garrett, my oldest brother and most senior police officer.

  "Positive."

  "It could be the adrenaline," said Daniel, my middle brother and Alice's husband. "I thought you were at the hospital with Alice?"

  "I was and I came here on the way home." I pointed to the cash bag. "I had to make a deposit. They didn't take it."

  "Who didn’t?" demanded Jord. He went to hug me, then stopped, pointing to my bloodied hands and clothes while shaking his head. He settled for a pat on my shoulder. I didn't blame him. Lily would freak if Jord arrived home with blood stains and he told her they came from me. On the other hand, she would be instantly at my door with pizza, ice cream, and a bottle of wine faster than I could order it through an app. I considered throwing myself at him before I decided I didn't want to pay for his dry-cleaning bill.

  "The bank robbers. Six of them. They came in just after I did but here's the weird thing, no one demanded any money. They told the tellers not to press the security buzzer but they didn't tell them to empty the contents of any of the registers. They didn't even grab the bag of cash I left on the side. Isn't that weird?"

  "It is," agreed Garrett. He turned his head and spoke softly to Daniel. Daniel nodded and took off.

  "Speaking of the cash, can I get it back now?" I asked, pointing to the bag. I didn't want to leave it there unattended too long just in case someone decided to help themselves. That much cash could tempt anyone.

  "Go grab it for Lexi," said Garrett to Jord. Jord jogged to the tellers, grabbed the bag, and jogged back, handing it to me. "You're lucky you asked. One of us might have bagged it as evidence, which could have doomed it to the evidence locker for months. So, if they didn't demand the money, what did they want?"

  "I barely got to the teller's window when I heard a gunshot and someone shouting. We all hit the floor and they herded us into the middle and told us to lie flat," I replied, "but I snuck a quick look when I could. I'm not sure what they were doing when Officer Andersen started shooting."

  "What in hell possessed him to do that?"

  "One of the bank robbers was supposed to check everyone for weapons but Officer Andersen still had his gun and the security guard also carried a backup piece. Officer Andersen suddenly decided to the two of them could take down the robbers."

  "That was dumb," said Garrett. He, Jord and I all looked at Officer Andersen now sitting on a gurney as the EMTs strapped him securely. He was talking and nodding to the various police officers who interrogated him.

  "The security guard thought so too but instead of realizing the odds were against them and lying low, Andersen yelled Police! before he started shooting. I don't think he actually hit anyone," I explained.

  "He took a bullet for all his trouble," said Jord.

  "Yeah, and the guy the other robbers deferred to, who was probably the boss, warned us the next shot would be fatal. Then he got pissed at one of the other guys for not checking them better for weapons. He took Andersen's gun and the security guard's before he demanded who the bank manager was."

  "He didn't know who it was?" asked Garrett.

  I shook my head. "It didn't appear that he did. He threatened to start shooting people until the bank manager identified himself. They took him through that door," I added, pointing.

  "Did they bring him back?" Garrett glanced at the small crowd the police successfully managed to corral on one side of the bank.

  "No. There were a couple of explosions that shook the floor, then one of the robbers called out to the others before they ran ou
t the back. It was all over pretty quickly."

  "Sit tight for a few minutes, sis'. Jord, grab a couple of officers and we'll take a look behind that door," said Garrett.

  "I think a code and a pass are required. I saw the bank manager use them," I added.

  "Jord?"

  "I'll find someone to open it," said Jord and they both took off.

  I looked around, wondering what to do. They told me to sit tight so I decided to take them literally, dropping to the floor and resting my back against the wall, with my legs crossed. It was a convenient place to watch what was going on now that the room was flooded with police officers. None of the customers were allowed to leave without first being interviewed by the uniforms with their signature notepads and pens out. The EMTs checked over an elderly couple but otherwise, everyone looked fine.

  The tellers finally emerged from behind their security glass and huddled together not far from me, a pair of officers with them. I figured they couldn’t really see anything but I couldn't resist straining to listen to their conversation.

  "...don't know why the police took so long," said one man in the bank's uniform of black slacks, blue shirt and tie. I couldn't quite read the nametag on his shirt. "I pressed the buzzer as soon as I saw the robbers walk in."

  "Police officers should have arrived in a few minutes," said his colleague, a tall, thin woman. "I pressed mine too, before they even warned us not to!"

  "They didn't even come up to us," said a third. "I hid on the floor under my desk, waiting for someone to start shouting for the money in the tills!"

  "Maybe they got spooked and ran off after the shooting. I heard one of the police officers say he was an undercover cop. He's so brave!" cooed the tall woman.

  I rolled my eyes. I didn't think so. I regarded Officer Andersen as a lesson in stupidity since he was out-manned and outgunned, although I wouldn’t voice that to a room full of his colleagues. Instead, I continued waiting, obsessively checking my watch as the minutes rolled past. Garrett and Jord and a couple more officers went through the security door into the bank and didn’t return. What could possibly be keeping them so long? Did they find the bank manager? I hadn't seen any EMTs rush through so he couldn't have been found injured. Did that mean he was dead? I hoped not. That would be a terrible outcome from what so far looked like a very crappy bank job.

  By the time my brothers returned, twenty minutes had passed and the atmosphere in the bank moved from adrenaline-fueled chatter to softer, calmer conversation. Garrett walked over to me, brushing dust from his shoulders and arms.

  "What happened to you?" I asked, looking over his shoulder to see who followed him. Jord had a man in a suit by the arm whom he was talking to gently. The man had a bandage taped to his head and cradled one arm awkwardly. He looked vaguely familiar, possibly one of the customers, until I glanced at his shoes. "Is that the bank manager? Is he okay?" I asked.

  "It is. We found him on the floor, conked on the head. He's going to have a nasty headache for a day or two but he's fine otherwise."

  "That doesn't explain this," I said, reaching out to run my finger over Garrett's sleeve. I retracted it when it became smeared with dust. "What happened?"

  "They needed the bank manager to access the employee zones. They took him downstairs and put a gun to his head until he opened the vault."

  "That poor man!"

  "He saw one of them pulling dynamite from a pack and figured they were going to get inside anyway, so he opened the gates. They hit him soon after that. He doesn't remember anything else until now."

  "So they were after the contents of the vaults? Is that where they keep surplus cash or are they gold ingots?"

  "You've been watching too many movies. The vault contains the customers' security boxes."

  "They must have valued that stuff far more than cash. I guess they didn't want to go to the hassle of laundering the money," I said, still confused.

  "You can't repeat any of this," Garrett warned me. "I'm only telling you because I expect you'll start poking around anyway."

  "I have no idea why you would think that." I held back the smile that threatened to creep onto my lips. I knew exactly why he thought that.

  "Glad to see your good spirits have returned. Uh oh..." Garrett trailed off. I glanced over my shoulder, wondering what rattled him only to see Solomon storming towards me.

  "I just heard," he said, coming to a stop in front of me. His worried eyes assessed me quickly. "You're covered in blood but I don't see any wounds."

  "It's not my blood," I said, reaching for his hand. "I'm okay. So's the cash." I held up the bag.

  Solomon took one look at my dried blood-encrusted fingers. "Screw the cash."

  I frowned. "You don't want it? Can I keep it?" I had my eye on a great outfit at a cute, little boutique. It would barely make a dent in the money. Also, I decided as I looked down, I really needed a new pair of pants and sneakers. Maybe a jacket too. And if I were shopping for all those things, a new purse couldn't go amiss.

  "Nice try," said Solomon. He put his arm around my shoulders, drawing me close despite my protestations about the mess, and I rested my head against him. That was nice, although now that I thought about it, those bank robbers could have killed me. Solomon better whip off his shirt and offer me a naked cuddle to make up for that. The request was on the tip of my tongue when I saw two familiar men walking into the bank.

  Special Agent Adam Maddox was a former detective, my ex-boyfriend, and now a fully fledged federal agent. Since the police/boyfriend days, we managed to ease into a companionable, trustworthy friendship. It didn't hurt that he was especially nice to look at with a shock of brown hair and piercing, blue eyes. I may have had a smokin' hot husband but I wasn't blind. Special Agent Sadiq Farid was Maddox's new partner, an intelligent, cheerful man who viewed me like a science experiment gone wrong. I liked both men a lot. We recently collaborated on a case together but I couldn't imagine what could possibly motivate them to come to the bank, not for a simple robbery. Unless, this was part of a grander scale of theft?

  "Heads up," I murmured, nodding towards the two men. "FBI."

  Garrett peeled off to approach them and as Maddox looked over, I saw the flash of concern in his eyes when he noticed me. I held up my hand and gave him the “okay” sign and a smile. There was no point in worrying him too. A moment later, all three walked back to us.

  "So this is the Graves Mafia at work," said Farid, glancing at my brothers dotted around the room.

  "Something like that," I said. "If you can spot an officer we're not related to, you get a piece of chocolate candy."

  "Gee," said Farid, pushing a fist under his chin and looking for all the world like he was trying to guess.

  "Ehhh!" I squeaked a noise like a buzzer. "Too slow! I'm related to everyone in this room."

  "No shit?" Farid grinned amiably. "What about her?" He pointed.

  "That's my cousin, Sergeant Tara Graves."

  Farid's grin grew wider. "No shit?"

  "So, you can probably guess what I'm doing here," I continued. "What about you?"

  "I don't think I can guess," said Farid, "but I've heard you can always be found in situations like this."

  "We got a call about a bank robbery and decided to come along and see for ourselves," said Maddox.

  "Really?" asked Solomon in complete disbelief.

  "I wanted to say that scathingly!" I said to my husband as I popped his arm. To the agents, I said, "Reaaaally?" in as sarcastic a voice as I could manage.

  "Yes, really. Not many bank robberies pop up on our radar. It seemed rather intriguing. Is that the manager? Excuse us," Maddox nudged Farid and after two polite nods, they both headed for Jord and the manager.

  "Do you believe that?" I asked as we watched them.

  "Please," snorted Solomon. "They expect us to believe they just stopped by to take a look? The presence of the FBI just made the whole event even more interesting."

  I gazed at Jord as he and the
bank manager spoke. The bank manager rubbed his neck with one hand and began shaking his head as the agents approached. "I can't wait to find out what the bank manager has to say," I said. "I wonder what was in the vault. Garrett said no to gold ingots."

  "We're not interviewing him."

  "Why not?"

  "Because we're not getting involved," said Solomon as we continued to survey the commotion, our backs to the wall. "This is exclusively a police matter, and possibly an FBI case."

  "What do you think was stolen from the vault? They went directly there."

  "Could be anything. People keep all kinds of stuff in vaults besides gold ingots. Plus, I don't think this is a gold ingot kind of bank."

  "Do you have a box in this vault?"

  "Actually, I do, yes," said Solomon.

  I glanced up. "Then why aren't you worried?"

  "It's currently empty. And no, I wasn't hiding it from you. You're listed as the second account holder and I'll show you where I keep the key at home."

  "What did you keep in there?" I pressed.

  "Documents mostly."

  Hmmm. That was a line of questioning to be pursued another day. I once found Solomon a quiet, mysterious man but after he got shot and languished in a coma, I dug through his life and discovered a lot more about him. I learned why he didn't particularly want to talk about his past, which was okay by me, so long as he didn't have a problem discussing the future.

  "The documents were my secret identities. Fake passports and driving licenses. Cash in several different currencies and also an untraceable nine millimeter," said Solomon gently against my ear.

  My eyes widened. "Say what?"

  Solomon's face lit up in a smile. "Kidding. Just wanted to see your response."

  I thumped his upper arm softly and he pretended that it made an impact. As he rubbed his arm, my cellphone rang. "My mom," I told him, still wondering if he really were kidding.

  "News travels fast," said Solomon.

  "I better answer or she'll fill up my voice service. Hi, Mom!" I gasped in fake cheer.

  "Alexandra Graves-Solomon! Tell me you are not inside that bank!"

  "I am not inside the bank."

  "I knew it!" she wailed. "Mrs. Goldberg's son got her one of those fancy smartphones and she sent me a photo of you splattered with blood. You took on the bank robbers, didn't you?! Lexi, how could you manage to get stabbed again? Or were you shot? How could you?!"