Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10)

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Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10) Page 41

by David B. Smith


  “I told you I don’t lie,” Bucky said softly. “I said I’d stay with you, and I did.” He took a breath. “Now, do you still want your gun back? If you do, I’ll get it for you.”

  There was a long silence. Bucky’s pulse, now almost normal, still seemed to throb in his ears. Outside it was deathly silent, as though the entire town was holding its breath.

  Terry looked down at his trembling hands, then over at the untouched bags of food. Indecision flickered in his blood-shot eyes. All at once he began to reach into his inside pocket.

  Bucky sucked in his breath. Did the bank robber have a second weapon tucked away all this time?

  Slowly Terry pulled out the envelope bulging with cash. “Let’s go.” The robber stumbled to his feet and reached out a hand to also help Bucky up. “You win.”

  Bucky flushed. “What?”

  The young man’s eyes moistened as his emotions threatened to break. “I . . . couldn’t ever. . . hurt you now,” he finally managed. Slowly he handed the envelope over.

  Unbelieving, Bucky stood. The pair went over to the front door of the bank, Terry clutching at the young teller’s sleeve. “You said you’d help me if we ever got out,” he reminded, his voice trailing off.

  “I will.” Bucky peered out. “Swear to God. Now just stay close to me. We’ll go out slow.”

  Very deliberately he slid the door open just a. crack. “Hold your fire! We’re coming out!” His voice, shaky with emotion, still carried clearly into the street. On the other side of the street, he could hear rifle bolts being slid into position.

  “We’re unarmed!” He whispered a word of encouragement to Terry. “Keep your hands up high. We don’t want them making a mistake now.”

  Huddled close together they stepped outside and onto the sidewalk.

  A figure appeared out of the darkness. “Bucky? You’re all right?”

  Bucky nodded, his hands still high in the air. “The gun’s in the bank.” Swallowing hard, he glanced toward Terry before continuing. “Please . . . just don’t hurt him.”

  The officer approached slowly, his stance still wary. “Just keep your hands up high,” he said to the robber, his voice even. “Nobody’s going to get hurt.” Slowly, almost reluctantly, Bucky stepped away from Terry as two policemen handcuffed the young man. Just once as the cuffs snapped in place, he looked over at Bucky with a pleading expression. Bucky gave him a thumbs-up gesture.

  “You have the right to remain silent. If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will . . .” Terry nodded dully as a policeman recited the memorized Miranda lines.

  “Bucky!”

  He turned with a start. On the far side of the street stood his parents. Mom was waving vigorously, dabbing at her eyes.

  A sudden lump came into his throat as he walked over to them. All at once the nerve-shredding tension of the evening overwhelmed him. Tears sprang into his eyes as he hugged his mother.

  Dad stood next to the pair, a big hand resting on Bucky’s shoulder. “Son . . . are you all right?”

  Bucky nodded.

  “How’d you ever get out?”

  He shivered in relief as a gust of cool air hit his still damp clothing. “Long story.”

  “We met a friend of yours,” Mom added, a little smile on her face.

  A slim hand slipped into the crook of his good arm. “Mr. Stone?”

  He turned at the familiar voice. Even in his exhaustion he couldn’t repress a grin. “Boy, it’s great to see you.”

  Deirdre looked at him. “Stone, you get yourself into more trouble.”

  “I know.”

  “What happened in there? After I brought the food, I mean.”

  Briefly Bucky explained what had taken place. Her eyes widened. “You mean you could have gotten out right then? By yourself?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Well, I had told him I wouldn’t leave. That’s why he let the girls go before.”

  “I know, but . . .” She digested what he had told her. “Well, kid, you are something else.”

  “Hungry. That’s what I am.” All at once he remembered how ravenous he was. “Is that food still in there?”

  “I guess.”

  He rubbed at his eyes. “Well, let’s go get it. You can have Terry’s food.”

  “Better not,” a familiar voice warned.

  Bucky glanced in its direction. Nearby stood a tall police sergeant. He offered his hand. “Good job in there. You handled yourself just fine.”

  “Thanks.” Bucky wrinkled up his nose. “But what do you mean about the food?”

  Sgt. Davis grinned. “Well, yours is fine. We had his all doped up. Five minutes after eating it, he’d have been out cold.”

  “Wow.” Bucky couldn’t hide a grin. “I never would have thought of that. You guys know a lot of tricks.”

  “All’s well that ends well, I always say.” The uniformed man clapped him on the back. “TV truck’s been here a long time. I imagine they’ll want to interview you.”

  “Not till I get some food . . .”

  “Here you are.” Another officer thrust a bag into his hand. “Heard we had a hungry hero here.”

  Bucky peered into the box. “Don’t want to drink the wrong milk shake,” he murmured with a little chuckle. “The one with the sleeping pill stuck in it.”

  Deirdre laughed. He looked at her with a tired grin. “I know nothing’s changed,” he managed. “But . . . thanks.”

  “Yeah.” Her face was etched with relief. “Give me one of your fries and we’ll be even, Stone.”

  • • • • •

  “And we’re on in three, two, one . . .” The news director cued down and pointed at the young female announcer.

  “We have a live update from First California Bank in Hampton Beach where the lone gunman, a Terry Reynolds, surrendered just minutes ago. Standing here with me is Bucky Stone, the employee who offered to serve as the robber’s single hostage. Bucky, that about describes the situation, doesn’t it?”

  He blushed. “Yeah.”

  For a moment the announcer fumbled with her tiny earpiece, receiving remote instructions from the Sacramento studio. “You were in there some five hours,” she observed. “How did you manage to persuade the holdup man to let the girls go, first of all? And then how did you finally talk him into surrendering? You must be in sales here at the bank!”

  Briefly he described the ordeal.

  “So even when you had that clear chance to get out, you didn’t do it?”

  He hesitated. “Well, I had promised him I would stay if he let the women go. And . . . a few minutes later, I got out anyway. So it all worked out fine.”

  “Well, it’s a happy ending to what’s been a most nerve-racking evening,” the announcer concluded. “I know you have a family that’s happy to have you safely out of that bank, Bucky, and some fellow bank employees who are certainly grateful tonight as well.”

  “That’s a wrap!” The news crew director gestured to the reporter. “Thanks, Stone.”

  Mom and Dad, standing just out of camera range, came over again. “Ready to go home?”

  “Boy, I sure am.” At that moment, Bucky could not remember ever having been so tired before. Every muscle throbbed with fatigue. “I’m beat.”

  Deirdre gave him a little wave. “I’ll see you at school.”

  He reached out and put an arm around her. “Listen, thanks a lot. You were great.” He looked at her. “I’ll never forget it.”

  She smiled, her ice-blonde hair soft in the glow of the street lights.

  Chapter Thirteen: Bank Bonus

  The muffled sound of a kitchen cabinet shut stirred Bucky to consciousness the next morning. Opening one eye, he peeked at the digital clock next to his bed – 8:30!

  With an anxious gasp he pulled on a pair of sweat pants and tumbled downstairs. “Mom, I’m late for school!” he groaned. “What happened to my alarm?”

  She gave him an on - her - tiptoes kiss. “Dad and I both decided
the high school wouldn’t kill you if you went in a little bit late this morning. After last night . . .”

  Bucky sat down in one of the tall kitchen chairs and put his head down on the cold deck tiles. “Yeah, I guess.” He looked at his mother. “Aren’t you late for work too?”

  “Nope, ten to three today.”

  Stretching, Bucky tried to rub a knot out of his aching muscles.

  “Sore?”

  “Yeah.” His forehead wrinkled. “Don’t know why. I mean, all we did was sit there in that bank. Nothing strenuous.”

  Mom poured a glass of pineapple juice and set it in front of him. “Just that tension did it. You wore on edge all evening.”

  The memory of the agonizing hours at gunpoint flashed through his mind once again. He gazed around the familiar kitchen surroundings. It was good to be safe at home!

  It wasn’t until lunchtime that Dan and Sam found him in the quadrangle. Without a word Dan reached out and gave his friend a bear hug. “Way to hang in there, man.”

  “Thanks.” Bucky was silent for a moment. “When did you hear about it?”

  “Eleven o’clock news. I’d have gone over there, but by then you’d just gotten out.”

  Bucky described the details of the robbery as the three young men ate. “How much cash did it end up he tried to steal?” Sam asked.

  “That’s what’s so dumb. Only ‘bout $10,000.”

  “So he wasn’t much of a pro? Just wanted drug money?”

  ‘‘Yeah, I guess.” Bucky’s eyes were thoughtful. “Too bad.”

  Dan looked over at Sam. “This Stone guy finds more ways to get on TV than anybody I ever saw,” he grinned. “Why don’t you just run for governor or something?”

  Bucky polished off his final bite before managing a retort. “Oh, seems like some player on the Panthers has made a few headlines lately,” he pointed out. “Three wins in a row, largely due to the clutch hits of Mr. Dan Litton, Number 44.”

  The stocky athlete beamed. “Boy, just imagine if you were in there.” He shook his head. “But we still might just barely sneak into the playoffs.”

  • • • • •

  After school Bucky made his way over to the now-familiar building on Fourth Street. Little evidence remained of last night’s headline - making drama except for one wooden police barricade that had been set to one side in an alley.

  As Bucky pushed open the front door, an unexpected round of applause greeted him. “What in the world?”

  Mr. Willis stood in the center of the room surrounded by several other bank employees, including Veronica and Sheila. The pregnant teller gave him a big smile.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Willis began addressing the little group. Bucky noticed that several customers were also present – they didn’t seem to; mind the interruption. “You all know what happened here last night and how three of our employees: managed to survive an extremely dangerous situation. Well, we thought we’d have a little celebration here this afternoon and let them know just how much we appreciate their loyalty, their quick thinking, and their honesty.”

  Reaching behind the counter, the branch manager pulled out a huge tray bearing a brightly decorated cake. “You customers who are here, if you can spare about five minutes, we want you to have some of this too!”

  Bucky grinned as he noticed them nodding enthusiastically.

  “One more thing,” Mr. Willis added, “is this.” He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out three envelopes. “It wasn’t a great deal of money that we were about to lose last night. And, of course, the lives of our workers mean more to us than any amount of money large or small.” He glanced down at the slim white envelopes in his hand. “But we did save that money, and we just want to let you know how very grateful we are. I checked with Sacramento and they told me, ‘Willis, you hang onto those three employees!’”

  Another smattering of applause as Mr. Willis handed an envelope to Veronica and a second one to Sheila. “This third one,” he said, his voice softer, “is to let you know, Bucky, just what I think of your courage last night. And your integrity.” He clasped the young teller’s hand firmly as he handed him the envelope.

  Bucky’s face flushed as he accepted the gift.

  “Open it, Bucky!” Sheila clutched her own envelope tightly to her chest.

  Carefully he ripped it open and peered at the contents. Suddenly he gasped. Without meaning to, he blurted out, “$2,000!”

  Another round of applause filled the branch. “Better keep it down,” Mr. Willis advised. “Somebody may want to walk off with that too!”

  “No way,” Bucky asserted. “This goes into my car account.”

  From the back of the tiny crowd of people came a familiar voice. “Let me get a picture of the two of you with that check.”

  Bucky grinned as Oliver Bendall from the News Chronicle stepped forward with the always-present camera dangling around his neck. “You again.”

  “We make a good team, Bucky,” the tall reporter smiled. “You make news and I write it.” He took a bite of cake. “You think you can manage a couple of calm months before school’s out?”

  “I hope so.” Bucky savored the chocolate cake, fumbling just a little bit with his cast.

  “Got a little cash for your car fund?”

  “Uh huh.” He sneaked a glance over at Veronica. The assistant manager was chatting happily with two customers, describing the previous night’s experience. “Well, for my second-hand car fund,” he added to Bendall.

  The reporter asked him a few questions about the robbery. “We had most of the details from the police last night,” he explained, “but the paper wants a follow-up story from the perspective of you folks who went through it.”

  After they were finished, the newsman snapped his pad shut. “Eager to get back behind that teller window?” he wanted to know.

  A pause. “Sure. I guess.”

  “You like this kind of work? Even after last night?”

  “Uh huh. It’s a lot of fun . . . and I like the people here.”

  “But you’re not so sure about all the visitors?” He said the last with a chuckle.

  “All but one so far.”

  “OK, Bucky. Thanks again. And congratulations.”

  The rest of the shift went quickly – and uneventfully, Bucky noted gratefully. Dad pulled up just as he clocked out and went out the front door with Veronica.

  “How’d it go?” his father asked as they rode home.

  “Great!” Bucky pulled the check stub out of his pocket and waved it triumphantly. “Two thousand bucks!”

  Mr. Stone pretended to swerve into the other lane in astonishment. “Wow! That’s terrific, Son!” He glanced over at Bucky. “Just in time, too, with your birthday this weekend and your cast coming off. Shall we go car shopping Sunday?”

  Settling back contentedly in the passenger seat, Bucky nodded.

  It was almost bedtime when his cell phone rang. “Hi, Bucky.” Lisa’s soft voice filled the receiver.

  “Hey.” With his parents both standing there in the kitchen, he slipped into the hallway so he could have a little bit of privacy. “This is a nice surprise.”

  She laughed. “Denise called me tonight and told me what happened to you. At the bank.”

  “Yeah, it was something else.” He forced a laugh as he saw his parents tiptoeing past, their hands over their ears. Quickly he described the experience. “Glad to have lived through it.”

  “Yeah.” She hesitated for a moment. “Denise told me she and Sam broke up.”

  “Uh huh. It just wasn’t working out. You know, with Sam being a Christian and everything.” Had Denise told Lisa anything about Deirdre? He forced the thought away.

  “I had a feeling that was bound to happen,” Lisa confessed.

  Memories of her flooded his mind. He thought about some of their spiritual weekends together. “I know. It’s sure hard to go with someone who – you know – doesn’t care about the same things.” He paused. �
��I guess . . . that’s why I missed you so much.”

  A long, easy silence passed between them. “I miss it too,” she replied quietly. “You really helped me get to know God better.”

  Bucky nodded. “I hope you can stick with it.”

  • • • • •

  A month later Bucky pulled up at the athletic compound and slid out of the little white Toyota sedan. Even though the model was nearly four years old, the car keys still felt good in his pocket. Rubbing his nearly-healed left arm, he grinned to himself.

  Spotting him in the stands, Dan gave him a big wave. It was a lopsided skirmish, with Dan pounding out three hits and five RBIs.

  After the game Bucky waited for his friend to emerge from the locker room. “Way to slug ‘em!”

  Dan shrugged. “Just tryin’ to make a living.”

  “This was your last regular season game, right? What about the playoffs?”

  The older boy’s shoulders sagged. “Even with us doing good right now, Coach figures we’ll just miss it. Most of the teams still have one to play, and we lost those four games early on. Unless we catch a real break, we’re going to barely miss the train.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  Early the next morning Bucky spent a few extra minutes in his devotional reading. Mom had given him a new book that tackled teen problems from a Bible perspective. During his short prayer time he mentioned Dan and his newfound but still very fragile faith.

  Inside the classroom hallway that afternoon he suddenly encountered a knot of students buzzing eagerly. “So they’re really busted?”

  “Out of the league. Playoffs and everything.”

  Between classes he managed to find Dan. “Did you hear the news?”

  Dan shook his head. ‘“Bout five guys on that Kennedy team. Busted.”

  “For what?”

  “I’m not sure. One of the guys said steroids, but might have been anything.”

  “And the whole team is out?”

  “Yeah. Boy, they’re really mad about it too. Some of the players . . .”

  “So the Panthers are in.”

  “Yeah. We get that last slot. You know what they say: ‘Backing into the playoffs.’” He laughed nervously. “I guess we take it any way we can get it, cheap or not.”

 

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