Saving Sarah

"You don't think women can climb?"

"You're not listening to reason, uhh, Mr....Mr..."

"Miller."

"Ah yes, it says so right here on your desk plaque. 'Anthony Miller.' And you are?"

"Pardon?"

"You're title here at the bank?"

"I'm the assistant branch manager."

"I see. I take it then, that the actual branch manager wasn't in today?"

"Mr. Hughes? No, his day off."

"You seem to have gotten a really good look at this woman in the red jacket."

"So did everyone else in the bank."

"Hmmm, but you're the only one that seems to have-"

"Excuse me, detective," said a police officer as he stuck his head through the door. "But some of the customers want to leave."

"Nobody leaves," Browning spat out. "More detectives will be here shortly. They just text me. They're less than a minute away. Make sure they get to question everyone. Close the door."

"Pardon?"

"Please close the door. I want to be alone with Mr. Miller here for a while."

Tony sighed and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "Over a dozen witnesses to the murder and you only want to question me? I don't get it?"

"Don't you? A man is dead on the floor in there and all you can remember is how hot looking the killer is?"

"She wasn't the shooter. I told you that. She saved my life. I told you that also."

"So you did. So where do you think she is now, Mr. Miller?"

"How should I know? You're the detective, you tell me!"

"You said you dragged her unconscious away from the front door, and tried to stop the bleeding. A few seconds later she supposedly dived through your office window, became invisible to the officers on the other side, then scaled an impossible fence not even Houdini could have managed. Anything else you want us to believe?"

Tony was suddenly infuriated. "I don't care what you fucking do or don't believe! It's all on the cameras, the shooting, her saving my life and me trying to get her comfortable and stop the bleeding cause I thought she was going to die. As for her escaping, if you were out there doing your damn job, instead of in here harassing me, then maybe you would have found her by now."

"You finished?" Browning's two word question was precise and to the point. And the look of sarcasm suddenly drained out of his face.

"Yeah, I'm finished," Tony whispered, still seething. "Except you forgot to ask me about the guy that actually did do the killing. He's the one that fired all the shots. So far you seemed totally focused on catching her. You're not asking anything about him."

"You're upset. Fine, stay upset. Just go out there and give the one of the arriving detectives your official statement. We're done in here. We're bound to get some usable prints off those smudges in the blood on the window sill. We'll soon find out who this sexy robber is."

Tony left without saying another word. Sergeant Browning's entire focus seemed directed on identifying the female robber. And then it suddenly dawned on Tony. What if the detective already knew who the male robber was? This might not have been the shooter's first bank robbery. Maybe he had left some DNA or prints behind at some other robberies, and maybe this was an identical heist to the others? He sighed and was immediately approached by a detective as he stepped past the office door. There were now at least six detectives scouring the crime scene for evidence and clues. A stretcher was loaded with the dead hero's body, and as the coroner began to wheel it away, Tony knew in his heart of hearts, that if not for the female robber, the body laying there could just as easily have been his.

Tony's cell phone went off, and he immediately recognized the home phone number of his boss, Bank Manager Hughes.

After the initial greeting, Hughes began driving Tony crazy, talking as though he believed there was something Tony could have done to prevent the robbery. Head office hated it whenever a robbery happened in one of their branches, especially if a murder took place during the commission of the crime. In their minds, they believed the public would associate the bank's name with criminals who purposely targeted it as opposed to another bank. In that regard, he knew that Hughes was taking a lot of heat, but it still irked Tony to no end over all the third degree questioning, and demands for answers that only the police were privy to.

"Did they know who the male shooter was? Did they know who the female shooter was? Were they close to capturing either of them? Why had Tony dragged the injured robber into that office? Why had he left her unattended? Why did Detective Browning believe he wasn't totally co-operating with the investigation? Was the rumor true that Tony was sympathetic to the wounded female robber?"

The list of questions was almost endless, and no sooner had Hughes finally exhausted it, when he suddenly started the stupid list all over again, making Tony nauseous.

One of the questions that was particularly troublesome to Tony, was his bank manager's line of questioning over the missing security guard. Head office had allotted five hundred dollars a week to hire a security guard. They felt a guard's continued visual presence by the front door may deter robbers from hitting that particular branch. As well, the insurance firm covering the bank had offered smaller premiums if the guard was hired. Hughes, however, had chosen to not spend the weekly allowance, and had been beefing up the profit reports with it instead. But he was doing so without telling the insurance company that the guard had not been hired, taking a chance that there would never be any robbery. That meant unjustified lower insurance payments had been paid. Only now, there was not only a robbery, but a death, and the potential was real that the insurance company might deny any claims over the falsification of the facts. As assistant branch manager, it had been Tony's job to rubber stamp the bank manager's policies by signing off on the weekly reports. It now sounded to Tony like Hughes was hinting that he take the blame for any fallout.

Tony's face was now reddening and his fists clenching in anger. It had been six hours since the shooting, and two hours since the detectives had yellow taped the front of the bank and finished their investigation. Yet Hughes was still peppering him over the phone with inane, accusatory questions.

"I'd like to call it a day now, sir," Tony spat out.

"There's still more I want to know about," Hughes retorted.

"It'll have to wait till the morning, sir. I've been on the phone with you for hours, and I'm dead tired and really traumatized."

There was a long pause, followed by a reluctant sigh of agreement. "Fine, Tony. Tomorrow. Only I hope you can tell me more than you've told me today."

There was a click on the other end and Tony finally felt free.

He yawned and stepped back into his office where he'd left his suit jacket draped over the chair. Normally, under such stress, he would have just left it there. But it held his wallet and car keys.

He pulled it off the chair where it had been draped, and was about to sling it over his shoulder when he suddenly heard a strange moan.

The sound shocked him. He dropped his jacket to the ground and took a step back. He wasn't sure from what direction it had originated, only that it had come from somewhere really close.

He strained his ears but heard the sound no more. He therefore picked up his jacket and was about to leave when it suddenly dawned on him that the reason the female robber hadn't been found might be because she was still hidden somewhere inside the bank. As farfetched as it seemed, it was actually the only scenario that made any sense. The police had refused to believe she could have gotten away by climbing through the office window. There was just no way she could have scaled that fence in the best of health, much less seriously wounded.

He paused to think on the puzzle some more. There had been police outside the window that would have surely seen her had she gone through it. It never dawned on anyone, however, that she might have been brazen enough to just remain in the bank and hide herself. But then again, why not? If she had of purposely planted blood and shoeprints along the wall and window ledge, then obviously the police might have taken the bait. But if she didn't leave the bank then just where the hell was she?

"Are you still here, hiding? You needn't be afraid of me. The police are long gone. So is everyone else. I'm all alone."

"I know," she said in a whimper, emerging from behind the desk where she had been hiding underneath it.

Tony was amazed. They had never thought to look there. The assumption and facts pointed to her having somehow made it outside, through the window. Tony was in shock at the sight of her but couldn't help smiling wryly to himself. The great detective 'know it all' Browning had forgotten to look under the desk!

"Please...don't turn me in...I...I...I never meant for anyone to be killed. It was all Trevor. He promised me no one would get hurt, and...and...and-"

"Shhhh, you saved my life, lady, I know! Now keep calm. We first need to get you to a hospital."

"No! Not a hospital. They'll ask questions, besides, the cops know I'm wounded. They've undoubtedly already sent my description to every hospital in Pittsburgh, telling them to notify them if a young black female comes in with a shoulder wound."

"Well, it appears the sweater I gave you that you pressed onto the wound did somehow stop the bleeding, but it's bound to get infected. You have to see a doctor!"

"And then what? Get a needle shoved in my arm? Pennsylvania carries the death penalty, and I heard what that cop said. Being an accomplice in a felony in which a person is killed makes me just as guilty as though I pulled the trigger myself. Believe me when I tell you that no one, and I mean no one was supposed to get hurt. That damn Trevor!"

"Your male accomplice originally didn't start shooting. It seemed to me that if Mr. Hero hadn't grabbed you as you left the bank, then no one would be hurt right now."

"I doubt the cops will be blaming Mr. Hero," she asserted. "Trevor really fucked up this time. And I really fucked up right along with him. My mother tried to warn me against getting involved with men like that, but I would never listen. I seem to be attracted to bad boys, only look now where it's gotten me. "

"I know what you mean," Tony agreed. "Us nice guys are boring, aren't we?"

"Well, you're kinda sweeter, and kinda different than most men."

"Different how?"

"Different, like the way you stood up to that detective and kept emphasizing that I had saved your life. Also, you went out of your way to talk about my sexy ass, and really stacked figure. I believe those are the words you used."

"Something like that," Tony said sheepishly, his face reddening.

"You're blushing, how cute. But you still haven't said what you're gonna do about me. I mean, if you turn me in, we both know it'll be a death sentence for me. And you know what? A guy is dead. Sooooo maybe, just maybe, a needle is exactly what I deserve for being so damn stupid."

"And for bypassing nice guys like me to only date the bad boys."

"I suppose," she offered. "But you're stalling, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean. You're making small talk, but in reality your mind is going off in a dozen different directions, wondering whether or not to turn me in, or help me get away."

"You can read me like a book," Tony conceded. "So I'm guilty as charged, I suppose. But if you hadn't of saved my life, then I guess it would be an easy enough decision for me to make, just pick up the phone and call for the cops. And what would it take them to get here, two or three minutes at the most? Only, you took a bullet that was meant for me. Only a woman that is caring, not selfish, and kind hearted would do such a thing, hardly the kind of woman that deserves to face the needle."

"Does that mean you'll help me get away?"

"It seems to me you probably could have slipped away after the detectives left. No cops outside that window now. I recall leaving for the bathroom a couple of times. I never would have known you were even here."

"True, but where would I have gone? Every cop in the city has my description and is out looking for me. They have my prints from the gun and the window ledge. They may one day figure out exactly who I am and where I live and who my friends are. Where could I possibly go? All the hotels and motels have no doubt been alerted to be on the lookout for me. But even if I could hole up in one, I have no money anyways. I have no car, no way to get away, and in my shape, I couldn't drive anyways."

"I can drive you," Tony offered softly. "Only if we leave the state, and I don't show up for work tomorrow, then they'll know something funny is up."

"Can I stay at your place for a while?"

Tony eyed her carefully. She was scared and vulnerable, looking delicate and totally helpless, not the kind of lady one might expect to see brandishing a gun at a bank. She looked more like some international runway model or perhaps some famous, seductive, movie star, but certainly not a killer. And yet, if he didn't help her, it would be a needle in her arm for sure. It was right there and then he knew he just had to do whatever it took to help her be forever free of the cops. After all, the bullet that passed through her shoulder had his name written on it, and that was the only reason she never escaped in the first place.

"I can put you up, sure," he offered. "But first I'm taking you to my brother's place."

"Why your brother?"

"He's a vet. You know, an animal doctor. He has a clinic about fifteen miles from here. He started out wanting to be a real doctor, but he's one of those freaks of nature, a real animal lover. Actually he's a fanatical animal rights activist. I'm sure he can treat your wound, cleanse it and stitch it up. I mean, now that the bleeding's stopped, you'll probably and hopefully be okay."

"Would that make you happy?"

"Pardon?"

"Would that make you happy, if I'm okay and if my wound doesn't do me in?"

"You saved my life, and so yeah, that would make me happy."

"You won't try and turn me in later on, will you?"

"Once my mind is made up, I won't go back on my word. I won't turn you in. Besides, if I get caught, I'll be guilty of accessory after the fact. So I have no intention of letting you get caught."

"You're nothing like Trevor."

"Pardon?"

"Trevor, my boyfriend, you're nothing like him. He left me to die and took off, not caring what happened to me. But you, you want to risk it all by helping me get away."

"Let's just say you're worth the risk. A woman worth saving."

"So I'm a woman worth saving, am I? That's so sweet of you to say. Is that your new burden in life then, to save a woman named Sarah?"

"Saving Sarah! It has a nice ring to it. I'm game if you are."

"You seem like a really nice guy. I'm just sorry I got you into this mess."

"The hell you did. I'm doing this of my own free will, and no one's twisting my arm. If those cold hearted bastards catch you, they'll probably put you to death, and I can't let that happen."

XXX

"You're sure no one will see us go into your place?"

"They can't. My car windows are tinted and there is a door inside my garage that leads directly into my home. With the automatic garage door opening, neither of us need get out of the car until we are safely tucked away in the garage."

"I see. Well, it was certainly nice of your brother to treat my wound."

"A lot of medication and some stitches, but he guarantees you'll be as good as new in a few days."

"I hate to ask, cause I don't want to seem ungrateful, but do you think he would go behind your back, and go to the cops?"

"Not a chance. My parents left me a lot of money. They were upset with him switching from medical school to pet school, and cut him out of the will. After my parents died, I gave him half of mine. He has never forgotten it since. It pays to be nice to people, cause then they owe you."

"Like how I owe you for trying to keep me out of jail?"

"I didn't mean it like that."

"I know. But in case you had any ideas, I'm a real slow mover."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I see the way you look at me, gazing at my dangerous curves as though your eyes are racing on a speedway, and glancing at my giant, gravity defying breasts every chance you get. If I had eyes in the back of my head they'd probably be screaming at me that your face is pointed squarely in my back's direction watching my ass sway and my curvy hips do their thing, am I right?"

"I will admit, that you're easily the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, but you're making it sound like I'm looking at you like a piece of meat. That's not true."

"Hmmmm. Time will tell. It always does. Sooner or later a set of horny lips will find themselves pressing onto my unsuspecting mouth, or a set of wandering hands will find their way around my waist or shoulders. It's always the same with you guys."

"So you're strictly off limits is what you're saying."

"No, I'm not saying that at all. After what that creep Trevor put me through, I'm definitely looking for a new man, but I'm a real slow mover, that's all. I like a guy that takes his time, and is real gentlemanly. It's not that I'm an old fashioned kind of woman, just careful and cautious, unless of course my heart gets in the way and tells my careful brain to fuckoff and mind its own business."

"You mean like in Trevor?"

"Yeah, exactly like in Trevor!"

"You sound bitter when you say his name. Almost as if you hate him, and yet, there's something still there I think."

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't still have some feelings for the creep. But they're diminishing by the hour."

"Then there's hope for me yet?"

"We'll see, white boy, we'll see. But my heart's definitely got to be in it, so don't push it. I hate pushy guys."

Sarah's cell phone suddenly went off. She reached for it and checked the number.

"Damn, it's Trevor. He must have heard over the news that I got away. I'm going to give him a piece of my mind for just leaving me behind like that!"

"No! Don't answer it! You never told me you had a cell phone? Are you crazy? They can trace it back to my place!"

"How? What are you talking about?"

"A cell phone sends out signals when you talk. Those signals bounce off of control towers. If you answer it, it will give them an exact location of where you're talking from, and we're only about thirty seconds from my house. They're gonna know you were with me!"

"Fine, I won't answer it."

Tony pulled over to the curb and parked. "Unless of course, you want to answer it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not stupid. I saw that glimmer of love ignite in your eyes when you saw his number."

"Yeah, so I've still got the hots for him, and so my eyes still light up when I see his number, but I'm still as mad as hell at him. He left me to take the fall at that bank."

"Maybe he felt he had no choice with the cops closing in." Tony said softly.

"So what are you, defending him now?"

"No. That's not what I'm doing and you know it. But you've probably thought about that a hundred times in your head already, haven't you, that he had no choice."

"So you're jealous now, is that it, white boy? So...so...so you pulled over. You want me to get out or something?"

"No. Not unless you want to. Look. I can drive you to where Trevor is if that's truly what you want. Or I can take you to my place. Either way, you need to smash that cell phone and get rid of it. If they get your phone number off of a friend, then they can trace you."