For some reason, Charlotte’s question has stymied Daniel, who looks momentarily flummoxed, then says, “No,” in a tone that’s a strong hint that the question is somehow inappropriate. Then he adds, “Ms. Mahar is my client.”
“Oh.” Charlotte looks unconvinced. But she gets over it. She breezily adds, “Sorry. So, how can I help the two of you today?”
Daniel moves in closer and lowers his voice so as not to let anyone else overhear. “Don’t become alarmed,” he says.
Immediately, Zoe can see that Charlotte is not good at following instructions. Her eyes go all wide. This is verification of what Zoe has suspected all along. Oh yeah, Zoe thinks, she’s going to press the panic button as soon as she sees what Wallace is up to.
And she’s going to be so obvious about it, Wallace will see.
Zoe supposes they’re lucky Charlotte hasn’t pressed it at Daniel’s words.
He continues to speak, his voice calm and soothing. He has put his rain-soggy trust-fund-stuff envelope down on the counter. Zoe is still holding her own paperwork, though she surmises the forms and printouts have probably melded together into one solid block of wet pulp: the ones saying she’s delusional, the ones saying she’s a liar, the ones saying she’s too impulsive for her own good. Daniel now lays both his hands flat next to his envelope, and Zoe realizes this is deliberate: In case Charlotte knows or suspects he carries a weapon, this is meant to demonstrate—if this is what is making Charlotte anxious—that he’s not a threat, that reaching for his weapon is the furthest thing from his mind. He asks Charlotte, “You know I’m a private investigator, right?”
She nods, still looking apprehensive.
“I need your help.” Meanwhile, he has shifted slightly so he can catch the bank guard’s attention, and he motions for him to join them at the counter.
Can you move a little slower? Zoe thinks at the man as he strolls in their direction.
“Some trouble here, Mrs. Yeager?” the guard asks, addressing his question to Charlotte, despite the fact that it was Daniel who summoned him. He has his name on the lapel of his uniform shirt: Bobby Something-or-other-that-has-too-many-consonants-and-ends-in-ski. Zoe spares a thought for the feeling that Bobby is not a suitable name for anyone whose age is represented by more than one digit.
Moving slowly and carefully, as he did for Zoe that one time back at the Fitzhugh House, Daniel takes out his private investigator ID from its new home in the pocket of Milo Van Der Meer’s jacket. Now he sets it on the counter and says, “I have reason to suspect an armed robber is about to enter the bank.”
If Zoe thought Charlotte’s eyes were big before, now they look about to pop right out of her face.
Daniel continues: “The police have been notified and are on their way. You can go ahead and press the silent alarm now if that makes you feel better, but it’s superfluous, and the important thing is you need to keep calm once the man enters.”
Bobby, who is at least twice as old as Daniel is, looks … perhaps not entirely convinced, but certainly as though he’s more inclined to believe Daniel than he was to believe Zoe. He’s wearing what he probably thinks of as his professional face, which looks pretty contemptuous of just about everything. He asks, “What about locking the door so the guy can’t get in?”
Daniel points out, “OK, but he would just come back some time when you weren’t expecting him. Besides … don’t look now, but too late.”
Not one of them does a good job with following that direction.
Daniel grips Zoe’s arm to keep her from whipping around. At least Charlotte was facing in that direction already, and it’s the guard’s job to watch everybody. So perhaps Wallace hasn’t realized anything is wrong. In any case, nobody’s ducking, so Zoe supposes he doesn’t look ready to open fire.
Bobby has angled himself so he can still see Wallace even while he talks to Daniel and Charlotte. He nods his head toward Daniel and asks Charlotte, “So you know this P.I.?”
Zoe, watching Charlotte since she isn’t allowed to turn to face the door, sees Charlotte force herself to look away from Wallace. “Mr. Lentini?” she asks. “Of course. He’s Pete’s brother.”
There’s a flash of annoyance on Daniel’s face, which makes Zoe question her earlier surmise that the brother must be younger. From her experience, it’s usually the older family member everyone knows and to whom the younger is always compared, and for one second, that’s how Zoe interprets Daniel’s displeasure.
Then Bobby asks, incredulously, “Crazy Pete?”
And that’s definitely more than annoyance in Daniel’s expression now.
Immediately, Bobby tries to backtrack. “Sorry. Sorry, that was not called for. But …” He’s looking at Charlotte with a not-very-subtle expression that seems to be asking, Can we trust Crazy Pete’s brother?
Zoe, who had begun to feel she was an expert in all things Daniel, has no idea what to make of this conversation, except that it seems to be going pretty far afield from a man with a gun has just entered the bank. She has to work hard not to turn to see what that man with a gun is doing while they are huddled here talking, and she can only surmise that he’s biding his time, waiting for the right opportunity.
Bobby is wearing a sucking-on-a-lemon expression so similar to Charlotte’s usual look, it’s as though he’s been taking lessons from her. He says, “But, anyway … I can’t arrest this guy just on your suspicion.” Still, he looks inclined to concede that Daniel—crazy brother Pete notwithstanding—appears a more upstanding citizen than Wallace does. Zoe, however, is obviously a different matter. “And what’s with the kid?”
Kid?
Daniel says, “I believe she and Ms. Yeager are in especial danger. Charlotte, I recommend you take Ms. Mahar toward the vault room as though you’re bringing her to put that folder of hers into a safe deposit box.”
This sounds less dangerous than being in this room, but the situation is too complicated for Zoe to know if she’s feeling relief or anxiety that Daniel is making arrangements to keep her away from him. Not that she has a good track record for keeping him safe.
In any case, Charlotte is saying, “That is entirely against regulations,” and even Bobby has grown suspicious again, asking, “Why that room? Is there something there you’re hoping to get into?”
Daniel shakes his head at both of them. “I’m not saying to bring her into the vault area. There are those side privacy rooms for people who need time to sort through their belongings. That’s where I want you to go.” Specifically to Bobby he says, “I’m just trying to keep the two of them out of harm’s way.”
Charlotte says, “We should ask Mr. Bennington,” by which Zoe takes her to mean one of the managers.
But even Bobby is shaking his head.
Zoe sneaks a peek in Wallace’s direction. He’s at the table with the deposit/withdrawal slips, obviously killing time waiting for the guard to step away from the tellers. But he’s looking fidgety, and surely that’s not a good sign. At least he isn’t going for the low table with its COMPLIMENTARY COFFEE FOR OUR CUSTOMERS. Caffeine is probably the last thing in the world he needs.
“No time for that,” Bobby decides, dismissing the idea of asking for advice or permission from the bank manager. “Ring the silent alarm and take her.”
“But …,” Charlotte starts.
“On my authority,” Bobby tells her.
From Charlotte’s face, she’s trying to work out whether he has this authority, but her desire to get out of there overrides her concern for bank protocol. She says, “This way, Miss Mahar,” and indicates she’ll meet Zoe at the far end of the counter, where a waist-high railing separates the more public area of the bank from the behind-the-teller-counter area and the vault.
Zoe hesitates, feeling as though she’s President William Henry Harrison’s personal physician, advising the president, Yeah, sure, go have fun with that inauguration speech thing. Good luck with the cold and the rain. I’ll meet you inside after it’s over.
She doesn’t want to desert Daniel. But can she really do anything besides get in the way?
As she and Charlotte take their separate paths toward the vault room, Zoe glances at the wall clock. 1:33. Six more minutes.
And nobody’s dead yet.
The railing is hardly high-security. Obviously, it’s meant to keep the clueless from wandering where they’re not supposed to, rather than to barricade against armed intruders. Zoe sees four solid-looking doors which she guesses are the rooms about which Daniel was talking. She wonders if they lock from the inside, and if they’re bulletproof.
As Charlotte opens the gate in the rail to let Zoe in, Zoe attempts to be subtle about turning to glance over her shoulder around the bank.
Daniel and Bobby have stepped away from the tellers’ counter: Daniel is making for the table in the waiting area where the coffee is set up; Bobby is heading toward the entrance as though to take up his usual post just inside the door—although his bearing is as stiff as if he’s expecting to be shot in the back at any moment. They’re giving Wallace some room, but they’re also flanking him, positioning themselves so they can be ready to move fast.
As for Wallace, he has stepped forward, between the two of them, heading for the teller counter. Alarmingly, he has opted to start at this end—which of course he would in any case, to avoid the empty space left by Charlotte’s walking away from her station near the other end.
At which point Charlotte, holding the gate open for Zoe, looks up, sees Wallace apparently heading straight for her, and calls out in obvious panic, “Mr. Lentini!”
Wallace, of course, does not assume there could be another Lentini in the world besides the one with whom he has a grudge. Even before Zoe has time to finish thinking at Charlotte, I always knew you were an idiot, Wallace has spun around to face the direction Charlotte is looking.
And he’s holding his gun.
Except this time, finally, Daniel has his gun drawn, too.
And so does Bobby.
Zoe spares the thought that a good person would not be thinking that she’d feel better about the standoff if only Wallace were aiming at Bobby rather than Daniel. Bobby is probably a perfectly nice guy. After all, he believed Daniel. He wanted Zoe and Charlotte to be safely in the back. True, he called Daniel’s brother crazy, an insult Zoe finds particularly offensive, but she tells herself allowances have to be made for someone who’s risking his life to save yours. Still, Zoe thinks she’d give anything for Wallace not to be aiming at Daniel.
Until Wallace does shift away from Daniel.
Because now, while he’s still looking at Daniel, he’s swung the gun around toward Charlotte and Zoe.
Be careful what you wish for. This was one of her mother’s sayings. She’d generally add: The universe has a way of coming around and biting you on the ass.
Yeah. That’s something this whole playback ability has shown Zoe time and again.
But she still thinks, Oh crap.
“Nobody’s been hurt yet,” Daniel points out, reasonable and conciliatory, trying to defuse the situation. “Nobody needs to get hurt.”
And any of the bank’s customers and employees who hadn’t noticed before what’s going on, notice now. There are startled gasps, squeals, and expletives.
“Shut up!” Wallace shouts at everyone. “Anyone who picks up a cell phone is dead.” Then he says, “Drop the guns, both of you, or the women die first. I even suspect one of you tellers has pressed the alarm, and you’ll be picking your coworker’s brains out of the wall behind her.”
Charlotte grabs Zoe’s left arm and is holding onto it in wide-eyed terror as though she’s drowning and Zoe’s arm is a lifeline.
Zoe tries to convince herself that it’s only logical—after all, she can’t help anyone if she’s dead—but she feels selfish and cowardly for recognizing the fact that if Charlotte would just let go, she could put her arms around herself and play back time.
Except, of course, that Wallace is looking directly at her, too.
“Drop,” Wallace repeats, emphasizing each word. “The. Guns.”
Daniel holds his arms up and away from his body to indicate surrender. He sets his weapon down next to the coffee machine. Bobby, following Daniel’s lead, puts his on the deposit/withdrawal slip stand.
The clock on the wall shows 1:35, which still gives Zoe four minutes, so she doesn’t need to yank free of Charlotte—at least, not immediately. Surely Daniel and Bobby laying down their arms must have appeased Wallace. At least for the moment.
“You,” he says to Daniel, and gestures for him to step farther away from the table.
Daniel does.
“And you,” he says to Bobby. “Lock the door. And close the window blinds.”
That doesn’t sound good. Zoe remembers the time she watched from the street, and the helpful witness told her there was a hostage situation in the bank.
“And the rest of you,” Wallace yells, “I said shut up! Nobody needs to get killed if you just shut the hell up and do what I say!”
As a motivational speech, it leaves a great deal to be desired, but the noise level inside the bank drops to some very ragged breathing and a few whimpers.
And all the while Wallace’s gun is still aimed at Zoe and Charlotte.
With his free hand, Wallace reaches into an inside pocket of his raincoat, and he pulls out a canvas bag, which he tosses at the teller closest to him. “Everybody else,” Wallace says, “face down on the floor. Hands behind your heads.”
Everybody? Unsure if that order includes them, Zoe looks at Charlotte to check her reaction.
Charlotte suddenly releases Zoe’s arm and dives for the floor on the far side of the guard rail.
Before Zoe can lower herself down, she’s aware of a blur of movement in her peripheral sight and she hears Daniel, sounding a bit frantic, say, “Don’t—”
And then someone has grabbed Zoe by the ponytail.
“How many times do I have to say shut up?” Wallace demands, his voice shouting just inches from Zoe’s ear because, of course, he’s the one who has a fistful of her hair.
Daniel, who has risen to one knee, once again lowers himself to the floor.
“This one of yours, Lentini?” Wallace asks. “This your kid sister?”
Daniel shakes his head, and Wallace aims his gun at Charlotte. “This Lentini’s sister?” he asks her.
Charlotte, too, shakes her head. “Just some stray he’s taken on.”
Not that it makes any difference, but Zoe resents how Charlotte has made her sound like a feral cat, with Daniel being the neighborhood crazy cat lady.
Still holding the sodden lump of her papers, Zoe wraps her arms around herself, wondering if the playback spell will work since Wallace has hold only of her hair.
Trouble is, she needs to say playback out loud. She can whisper. But will any speaking set Wallace off?
Before she can decide whether to take the risk, he spins her around, and now he has his arm wrapped around her neck, which is definitely too much contact for playback to work. “You’ll still do,” he tells her, which sounds ominous. She decides it’s best not to wonder, For what?
“Keep it moving,” Wallace orders the tellers as they take turns stuffing banded stacks of money into his bag.
Zoe can’t squirm loose; she knows she can’t. What she manages to do is to catch a look at the big wall clock. Only two minutes left till 1:39, and then she’ll be stuck with this time, not able to go back to any part of it.
Story line closed. Forever.
As her gaze drops away from the clock, she sees Daniel is watching her from his prone position on the floor in an anxious, bewildered way. He mouths something, but she can’t tell what. He glances at the clock, then back at her. Oh. The next time he silently tells her Go now, she gets it. He’s telling her to play back. She realizes she hasn’t told him—this time—about how she can’t be touching anyone. She makes a tiny gesture, a flick of her fingers, toward Wallace’s arm aro
und her neck and mouths back at Daniel, Can’t.
Does he understand?
Daniel shifts his attention to Wallace. “Let the girl go,” he says. “A minor doesn’t make a good hostage. You can’t take her out of here. Cops will put out an Amber Alert, they’ll go all-out to stop you, and they won’t take any chances, they’ll send a sniper, you won’t even—”
Almost conversationally, Wallace tells him, “I am looking for an excuse to shoot you in the face, you do realize that, don’t you?”
Even given her own situation, Zoe winces. That’s just too reminiscent of the very first time.
“All the same,” Daniel finishes, “I’d make a much better hostage.”
Zoe refuses to allow herself to think about this, one way or the other.
Wallace considers. Or, more likely, pretends to. It’s hard to say. He puts his gun up to Zoe’s head, then points it at Daniel, then brings it back to Zoe. “Naw,” he says. “I think I’ll stay with her.” To Zoe he says, “I’ll even let you hold the money, how’s that, little blue girl?”
Zoe has no expectation that Wallace will let her live beyond her usefulness in getting him out of the bank—despite Daniel’s earlier assertion that Wallace is not all bad.
So this is it, she thinks. I’ve finally fixed things. Daniel gets to live, and Charlotte, and Bobby, and the rest.
It’s not like she has a good life or anything. Nor much prospect for things improving in the future. She hadn’t thought much about dying before today, but now she finds a bit of satisfaction in the idea that her dying will save others. However pointless her life has been, her death won’t be meaningless.
Looking ready to cry, the last teller hands Zoe the bag, which has made its way back to this end of the counter.
“OK,” Wallace says to bank guard Bobby, “you can unlock the door now, then stand out of my way. You’re another one I wouldn’t mind shooting.”
“She’s just a kid,” Bobby protests on Zoe’s behalf.
Wallace answers, “And if she behaves herself, she’ll be fine.”
Zoe doesn’t believe this, and she doubts anyone else does.
Daniel, of course, cannot leave well enough alone. Although he knows not to sit up, and so remains belly-down on the floor, he says, “You’re in a lot of trouble already.” He keeps on talking even as Wallace starts to turn back to him. He just speaks more rapidly, saying, “But that’s nothing to the trouble you’ll be in for kidnapping a minor. The police outside—”