Garber watched the fear ignite in the eyes of the people in the bank as they saw the assault rifle. It excited him. It was almost like the fear in the eyes of a young girl, when she knew what was coming, knew for certain she could not get away. That always excited him. He watched the teller blanche with fear, her eyes wide with alarm. He savored the moment, savored the terror he knew he was inspiring in her.
But it wasn't the same, he realized. It was a different sort of fear, a different.....flavor of fear. It was good, in it's own way, but not the flavor he liked best.
That one, he thought, looking at the young girl in the white sweater and turquoise uniform with little alien faces on it. He'd like to feel her fear. Why not, he asked himself, remembering the camping gear they had in the trunk of the car. They'd be several days getting to the interior of Mexico, far from the border, far from the US and its laws. The nights out camping would get cold, or at least, lonely.
Three strikes..., he thought to himself. He had more than that now, had many more than that when the law was passed. He and McMillan had only been in the halfway house because the law couldn't be made retroactive. The sporting goods store heist put them both over the line. If they got caught now, they'd be in for life, no matter what they did or didn't do with little Miss alien here. He looked around the bank quickly, hoping there was another one for McMillan. No luck.
Well, they could share, they'd done it before..........
The Vault (M/L, Mature) (COMPLETE)
Moderators: Itzstacie, Forum Moderators
For 40 years Mr Fillmore had worried about this day. The two armed men had come bursting in just before closing. He stepped back away from the vault, moving slowly toward the teller, urging her with his eyes to press the silent alarm. But she seemed frozen by the shotgun pointed at her.
He saw her start to fill the bag with money. At least she was doing that right. Start with the loose one dollar bills, then the one dollar bundles. Slip a roll of quarters in when the robber wasn't looking. Then the fives.......
Work for maximum bulk and and maximum weight, but minimum cash loss. That had been the training. With luck these punks would go away with bags of cash with less value than the car they rode away in, or the guns they carried.
Still, if he could just get to the silent alarm........
He saw her start to fill the bag with money. At least she was doing that right. Start with the loose one dollar bills, then the one dollar bundles. Slip a roll of quarters in when the robber wasn't looking. Then the fives.......
Work for maximum bulk and and maximum weight, but minimum cash loss. That had been the training. With luck these punks would go away with bags of cash with less value than the car they rode away in, or the guns they carried.
Still, if he could just get to the silent alarm........
Philip Evans looked up quickly when he heard the shout from the doorway, "Nobody move. And don't do anything foolish."
It wasn't that Philip Evans didn't care for the other people in the bank, it was that he was first and last his childrens' father, and he was instantly comforted by the fact that Max was beside him, a lobby away from the armed men.
He looked at the notary in front of him, looked at her fearful eyes, the look of horror on her face, her shaking hand as she reached slowly beneath her desk to push the button.
His eyes went back to where Max had been standing, intending to shield him from the danger, only to find out he was no longer standing there. Where had he gone?
Saturday 1:58 PM Roswell Sheriff's Office
The silent alarm rang for the First New Mexico Bank. 'Not again,' thought the desk sergeant. 'That paranoid old coot Fillmore has the place laced with silent alarm buttons. Some kid finds one every month.'
Still, procedure was procedure, and he keyed the mike and called the nearest sheriff's deputy to check it out. "Hey Mike, another silent alarm at First New Mexico. You know the drill. Go have a look."
Saturday 1:58 PM Roswell Branch, First New Mexico Bank
Liz Parker's attention had instantly shifted as the two men started shouting, and her fear mounted as the second man pushed her over near the vault, away from the other customers. She moved slowly, carefully away from the two, trying to put as much distance as possible between her and them, without attracting their notice. She was already terrified about what was going on, but somehow the look the man had given her had frightened her even more.
McMillan waved the shotgun at the woman trying to hurry her. This was taking too long and he was getting nervous. His gesture didn't have the desired effect. Now her hands were shaking and she was getting even less done. 'And that old coot there in the suit......what was he doing?'
"You! Help her! Get those sacks full, now!"
As Mr Fillmore moved over to assist Mrs. Brady fill the bags he knew he had his chance. As he fumbled for a second bag to fill, his hand reached gently under her desk, feeling the guarded button there. Trying not to smile, he pushed it repeatedly, then started slowly filling the bag with loose five dollar bills and the few remaining rolls of coins in the cashier's till.
Saturday 1:59 PM Roswell Sheriff's Office
As the second silent alarm button was pushed, from a different location at the bank, the Desk Sergeant's eyes widened. 'Oh shit, this isn't a false alarm this time.'
His first action was to call back to the deputy. "Second alarm, Mike, from a different button. This is no drill, I'm sending you backup."
His second action was to call the second deputy on patrol. "Silent alarm with confirmation at First New Mexico, Greg. Mike's already on his way, you're backup. I'll get hold of the Sheriff as soon as I can.
Saturday 2:00 PM Crashdown Cafe
'Well, it was only a circuit breaker,' thought Jeff Parker. He'd been after the electrical shop to come put in a few more circuits for the last two weeks, ever since they'd gotten the new deep fat fryer. It worked a lot better, but it pushed that old 220 volt circuit to the limit, and if they both happened to cycle on simultaneously the startup current popped the damn breaker.
Seeing the Sheriff waiting at the till, he went up to play cashier, one of the many jobs you learn when you own your own business. As he was giving him his change the Sheriff's radio had gone off.
"Valenti here."
'Two silent alarms at First New Mexico, Sheriff. I've rolled primary and backup. Mike's on-scene-commander until you get there.'
'First New Mexico...? The Bank? That's where I sent Lizzy....."
It wasn't that Philip Evans didn't care for the other people in the bank, it was that he was first and last his childrens' father, and he was instantly comforted by the fact that Max was beside him, a lobby away from the armed men.
He looked at the notary in front of him, looked at her fearful eyes, the look of horror on her face, her shaking hand as she reached slowly beneath her desk to push the button.
His eyes went back to where Max had been standing, intending to shield him from the danger, only to find out he was no longer standing there. Where had he gone?
Saturday 1:58 PM Roswell Sheriff's Office
The silent alarm rang for the First New Mexico Bank. 'Not again,' thought the desk sergeant. 'That paranoid old coot Fillmore has the place laced with silent alarm buttons. Some kid finds one every month.'
Still, procedure was procedure, and he keyed the mike and called the nearest sheriff's deputy to check it out. "Hey Mike, another silent alarm at First New Mexico. You know the drill. Go have a look."
Saturday 1:58 PM Roswell Branch, First New Mexico Bank
Liz Parker's attention had instantly shifted as the two men started shouting, and her fear mounted as the second man pushed her over near the vault, away from the other customers. She moved slowly, carefully away from the two, trying to put as much distance as possible between her and them, without attracting their notice. She was already terrified about what was going on, but somehow the look the man had given her had frightened her even more.
McMillan waved the shotgun at the woman trying to hurry her. This was taking too long and he was getting nervous. His gesture didn't have the desired effect. Now her hands were shaking and she was getting even less done. 'And that old coot there in the suit......what was he doing?'
"You! Help her! Get those sacks full, now!"
As Mr Fillmore moved over to assist Mrs. Brady fill the bags he knew he had his chance. As he fumbled for a second bag to fill, his hand reached gently under her desk, feeling the guarded button there. Trying not to smile, he pushed it repeatedly, then started slowly filling the bag with loose five dollar bills and the few remaining rolls of coins in the cashier's till.
Saturday 1:59 PM Roswell Sheriff's Office
As the second silent alarm button was pushed, from a different location at the bank, the Desk Sergeant's eyes widened. 'Oh shit, this isn't a false alarm this time.'
His first action was to call back to the deputy. "Second alarm, Mike, from a different button. This is no drill, I'm sending you backup."
His second action was to call the second deputy on patrol. "Silent alarm with confirmation at First New Mexico, Greg. Mike's already on his way, you're backup. I'll get hold of the Sheriff as soon as I can.
Saturday 2:00 PM Crashdown Cafe
'Well, it was only a circuit breaker,' thought Jeff Parker. He'd been after the electrical shop to come put in a few more circuits for the last two weeks, ever since they'd gotten the new deep fat fryer. It worked a lot better, but it pushed that old 220 volt circuit to the limit, and if they both happened to cycle on simultaneously the startup current popped the damn breaker.
Seeing the Sheriff waiting at the till, he went up to play cashier, one of the many jobs you learn when you own your own business. As he was giving him his change the Sheriff's radio had gone off.
"Valenti here."
'Two silent alarms at First New Mexico, Sheriff. I've rolled primary and backup. Mike's on-scene-commander until you get there.'
'First New Mexico...? The Bank? That's where I sent Lizzy....."
Last edited by greywolf on Mon Aug 07, 2006 1:46 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Sheriff Jim Valenti looked in the direction of the bank as he left the Crashdown, but then ran a half block in the wrong direction to get to his Police Vehicle, a GMC Yukon. He needed the added firepower in the vehicle or he would have just run the five blocks to the bank. Somehow he figured a 9mm Beretta and two extra clips might not be quite enough if this was a real robbery.
As he ran he got on his radio to the desk sergeant to have him to talk to the State Patrol to be able to set up roadblocks if the robbers got out of the bank. He ordered another deputy to be called in to bring up the Sheriff’s department mobile command post which they’d put in the theater parking lot down the block from the bank.
Saturday 2:01 PM Roswell Branch, First New Mexico Bank
“Slide me the bags!” yelled McMillan. ‘This was taking way too long.’ As the old man in the suit slid the bag across the counter he picked it up, feeling it’s satisfying heft. The teller was visibly nervous, and when she slid the bag it came at him upside down, and in her nervous haste she hadn’t closed it. As he reached for it the contents tumbled to the floor, a half-dozen rolls of pennies and quarters falling on his feet, followed instantly by a confetti like shower of loose one dollar bills. “Son of a Bitch. There isn’t five hundred dollars in here,” he said aloud. He pointed the shotgun at the teller and her eyes went wide as the color drained from her face. He tore open the second bag and found more coins and small bills. “OK, who is in charge here?” he asked, shoving the shotgun in the tellers face. Her eyes filled with terror and turned pleadingly toward the man in the suit.
Philip Evans was paralyzed with fear. Not for himself, but for his son. Somehow Max had wandered off, and in the milling and bunching crowd of customers had somehow wound up on the far side of the lobby, near the young girl in the waitress uniform and the shorter stouter guy with the assault rifle and the handgun. He wanted to go to him, but the two robbers seemed to be becoming more and more agitated as time went by, and he feared provoking them further, especially with his child so close to them.
Liz Parker wasn’t sure why the man with the assault rifle had shoved her away from the rest of the customers but she wanted to put as much distance between herself and him as possible. As she watched the man she became aware of a presence to her left, another customer, but with her eyes locked on the bank robber she really didn’t look at the person. At least not until the person’s body sort of pushed between herself and the nearby robber, she felt her hand gripped, and the thought came through the connection *Get behind me, Liz*
As he ran he got on his radio to the desk sergeant to have him to talk to the State Patrol to be able to set up roadblocks if the robbers got out of the bank. He ordered another deputy to be called in to bring up the Sheriff’s department mobile command post which they’d put in the theater parking lot down the block from the bank.
Saturday 2:01 PM Roswell Branch, First New Mexico Bank
“Slide me the bags!” yelled McMillan. ‘This was taking way too long.’ As the old man in the suit slid the bag across the counter he picked it up, feeling it’s satisfying heft. The teller was visibly nervous, and when she slid the bag it came at him upside down, and in her nervous haste she hadn’t closed it. As he reached for it the contents tumbled to the floor, a half-dozen rolls of pennies and quarters falling on his feet, followed instantly by a confetti like shower of loose one dollar bills. “Son of a Bitch. There isn’t five hundred dollars in here,” he said aloud. He pointed the shotgun at the teller and her eyes went wide as the color drained from her face. He tore open the second bag and found more coins and small bills. “OK, who is in charge here?” he asked, shoving the shotgun in the tellers face. Her eyes filled with terror and turned pleadingly toward the man in the suit.
Philip Evans was paralyzed with fear. Not for himself, but for his son. Somehow Max had wandered off, and in the milling and bunching crowd of customers had somehow wound up on the far side of the lobby, near the young girl in the waitress uniform and the shorter stouter guy with the assault rifle and the handgun. He wanted to go to him, but the two robbers seemed to be becoming more and more agitated as time went by, and he feared provoking them further, especially with his child so close to them.
Liz Parker wasn’t sure why the man with the assault rifle had shoved her away from the rest of the customers but she wanted to put as much distance between herself and him as possible. As she watched the man she became aware of a presence to her left, another customer, but with her eyes locked on the bank robber she really didn’t look at the person. At least not until the person’s body sort of pushed between herself and the nearby robber, she felt her hand gripped, and the thought came through the connection *Get behind me, Liz*
“Alright wise guy,” said McMillan, pointing the shotgun at Mr. Fillmore’s face, “I want four full bags, nothing smaller than twenties, and if there is so much as one roll of pennies in any of those bags you are going to be a dead man. I may shoot you anyway, just for jerking us around.”
“W-w-we don’t have that much out. We were just about to close. This was the only till still open. Most of the money is in the vault.”
“Well my watch is going and you have two minutes to get it. After that I start shooting people, and you’ll be the first.”
As McMillan and Fillmore started toward the vault Garber saw a reflection in the plate glass window across the street of a police car arriving, lights on but siren off. “The cops are here. Somebody must have hit an alarm!”
McMillan looked at Fillmore who had a small smile on his face. “You’re surrounded. You might as well give up.”
McMillan looked at the man in absolute fury. “You think this is funny? Well laugh at this…” as he fired the 12 gauge shotgun into the man’s abdomen at a distance of 10 feet.
Deputy Mike Andredas had seen Greg’s prowler pull up but noticed too late that he could be seen in the plate glass window to warn him. When he heard the gunshot and saw old man McMillan fall without apparent provocation he keyed his tactical radio and announced “Guns fired. They are shooting the hostages. Take the shot if you’ve got it.” He then fired his tear gas round through the window of the bank toward the vault before dropping the grenade launcher to start firing at McMillan.
As the tear gas shell came crashing through the window McMillan looked around for a way out. He saw the deputy that had just arrived moving to a window looking for a shot. As gunfire erupted through the other window he pushed backward away from the tear gas coming from the grenade, yelling “In to the vault. It’s our only chance. I’ll grab the two for hostages, you cover me while I get the door closed. “
As he pointed the shotgun at Liz Parker, Max Evans moved to shield her body with his. But at Garber pointed his assault rifle at them both, they both backed in to the vault. As more firing came from the outside, shots pinging against the doorframe of the vault, Mc Millan pulled hard against the inner handle of the door. Garber fired as the door closed, but the AK-47 muzzle climbed rapidly in full automatic fire, and bullets were soon ricocheting within the vault itself. Max Evans tried to force Liz into a protected corner of the safety deposit box area and as he pushed against her the connection formed. *Down Liz, dow…..* and the thought stopped abruptly as the ricochet hit his temple. The pain of that wound echoed through the connection to the mind of Liz Parker.
As both Max Evans and Liz Parker dropped like puppets with cut strings, the vault door closed, and McMillan quickly turned the locking handle.
“W-w-we don’t have that much out. We were just about to close. This was the only till still open. Most of the money is in the vault.”
“Well my watch is going and you have two minutes to get it. After that I start shooting people, and you’ll be the first.”
As McMillan and Fillmore started toward the vault Garber saw a reflection in the plate glass window across the street of a police car arriving, lights on but siren off. “The cops are here. Somebody must have hit an alarm!”
McMillan looked at Fillmore who had a small smile on his face. “You’re surrounded. You might as well give up.”
McMillan looked at the man in absolute fury. “You think this is funny? Well laugh at this…” as he fired the 12 gauge shotgun into the man’s abdomen at a distance of 10 feet.
Deputy Mike Andredas had seen Greg’s prowler pull up but noticed too late that he could be seen in the plate glass window to warn him. When he heard the gunshot and saw old man McMillan fall without apparent provocation he keyed his tactical radio and announced “Guns fired. They are shooting the hostages. Take the shot if you’ve got it.” He then fired his tear gas round through the window of the bank toward the vault before dropping the grenade launcher to start firing at McMillan.
As the tear gas shell came crashing through the window McMillan looked around for a way out. He saw the deputy that had just arrived moving to a window looking for a shot. As gunfire erupted through the other window he pushed backward away from the tear gas coming from the grenade, yelling “In to the vault. It’s our only chance. I’ll grab the two for hostages, you cover me while I get the door closed. “
As he pointed the shotgun at Liz Parker, Max Evans moved to shield her body with his. But at Garber pointed his assault rifle at them both, they both backed in to the vault. As more firing came from the outside, shots pinging against the doorframe of the vault, Mc Millan pulled hard against the inner handle of the door. Garber fired as the door closed, but the AK-47 muzzle climbed rapidly in full automatic fire, and bullets were soon ricocheting within the vault itself. Max Evans tried to force Liz into a protected corner of the safety deposit box area and as he pushed against her the connection formed. *Down Liz, dow…..* and the thought stopped abruptly as the ricochet hit his temple. The pain of that wound echoed through the connection to the mind of Liz Parker.
As both Max Evans and Liz Parker dropped like puppets with cut strings, the vault door closed, and McMillan quickly turned the locking handle.
Saturday 2:30 PM Roswell Branch, First New Mexico Bank
The Sheriff’s Office on-scene command post was in place and extra deputies and detectives had been called in to debrief the people who had been inside the bank to get any information they could that might be helpful.
Fillmore was enroute to the hospital. The EMTs had started three IVs running full blast, loaded him into the ambulance with the help of three firemen and a deputy and taken off for the hospital 15 minutes ago, the EMT in back bagging the comatose patient. Other EMTs were checking out the remaining people from the building, and would be transporting one other patient to the hospital, someone with chronic asthma who had gotten too big a whiff of the tear gas.
After calling in the bank vice president, the key to the security video room was found and a helpful employee of the local Radio Shack had actually rigged connections from the vault security camera and microphone to a monitor and speakers in the mobile on-scene command post.
The good news, thought Jim Valenti, was that they now had realtime audio and video of the vault, as well as the tapes from the last half hour, and the perpetrators didn’t even appear to know they were being watched.
The bad news was that the situation may have been unique in the history of hostage taking. It sure hadn’t been covered in any of the hostage negotiator classes he’d ever been in. The time lock had been set, and when that door was closed, the vault was locked until Monday morning unless you had the time lock combination. And the only one who had it was old man Fillmore, and he was unconscious and in critical condition, might not even make it.
'It’s real hard to negotiate when you have nothing to negotiate with,' Valenti decided. ‘I can turn off their lights, I guess,’ he thought. ‘Of course then the battery powered emergency lights will go on. I can’t even make them listen to the damn Muzak on the speakers in the rest of the bank. The music system doesn’t go in the vault. Can’t negotiate for food or water, can’t let them out if I wanted to. What a hell of a mess.’
The Sheriff’s Office on-scene command post was in place and extra deputies and detectives had been called in to debrief the people who had been inside the bank to get any information they could that might be helpful.
Fillmore was enroute to the hospital. The EMTs had started three IVs running full blast, loaded him into the ambulance with the help of three firemen and a deputy and taken off for the hospital 15 minutes ago, the EMT in back bagging the comatose patient. Other EMTs were checking out the remaining people from the building, and would be transporting one other patient to the hospital, someone with chronic asthma who had gotten too big a whiff of the tear gas.
After calling in the bank vice president, the key to the security video room was found and a helpful employee of the local Radio Shack had actually rigged connections from the vault security camera and microphone to a monitor and speakers in the mobile on-scene command post.
The good news, thought Jim Valenti, was that they now had realtime audio and video of the vault, as well as the tapes from the last half hour, and the perpetrators didn’t even appear to know they were being watched.
The bad news was that the situation may have been unique in the history of hostage taking. It sure hadn’t been covered in any of the hostage negotiator classes he’d ever been in. The time lock had been set, and when that door was closed, the vault was locked until Monday morning unless you had the time lock combination. And the only one who had it was old man Fillmore, and he was unconscious and in critical condition, might not even make it.
'It’s real hard to negotiate when you have nothing to negotiate with,' Valenti decided. ‘I can turn off their lights, I guess,’ he thought. ‘Of course then the battery powered emergency lights will go on. I can’t even make them listen to the damn Muzak on the speakers in the rest of the bank. The music system doesn’t go in the vault. Can’t negotiate for food or water, can’t let them out if I wanted to. What a hell of a mess.’
Last edited by greywolf on Mon Aug 07, 2006 1:30 pm, edited 1 time in total.
McMillan slammed down the phone. Damn. He'd had his doubts about this before he'd come in the door but.........damn!
He had to put the squeeze on the Sheriff somehow, make him open the door quickly, get them a small plane to fly them to Mexico using the girl for a hostage. The boy wasn't going to be any help, he looked like a goner.....
The Sheriff HAD to be lying to them about the time lock. He had to be jerking them around while he was mobilizing more manpower, getting road blocks set up, getting ready to overpower them.....
But what if he wasn't? Then it was really over. Cause even if he wasn't jerking them around, McMillan knew for damn sure he WAS mobilizing more manpower, getting road blocks set up, getting ready to overpower them.
It had been a huge mistake to come into the vault, they should have taken their chances with the damn tear gas. Hell, they should have skipped Roswell altogether.
No, the Sheriff had to be bluffing. If he wasn't, everything was lost. They needed to ratchet up the pressure on him somehow. As he looked around the vault he realized they really only had the one bargaining chip.
He had to put the squeeze on the Sheriff somehow, make him open the door quickly, get them a small plane to fly them to Mexico using the girl for a hostage. The boy wasn't going to be any help, he looked like a goner.....
The Sheriff HAD to be lying to them about the time lock. He had to be jerking them around while he was mobilizing more manpower, getting road blocks set up, getting ready to overpower them.....
But what if he wasn't? Then it was really over. Cause even if he wasn't jerking them around, McMillan knew for damn sure he WAS mobilizing more manpower, getting road blocks set up, getting ready to overpower them.
It had been a huge mistake to come into the vault, they should have taken their chances with the damn tear gas. Hell, they should have skipped Roswell altogether.
No, the Sheriff had to be bluffing. If he wasn't, everything was lost. They needed to ratchet up the pressure on him somehow. As he looked around the vault he realized they really only had the one bargaining chip.
Saturday Afternoon 4:18 PM Sheriff's Department On-scene command post
SWAT Team Commander Enriquez Ortiz was looking at Sheriff Jim Valenti. He'd known the man for 6 years, known him well for 4 years, and he had never seen him so...crushed. So totally defeated.
"It's not your fault, Jim. You had nothing to bargain with. There wasn't a damn thing you or I or anyone else could do. We've both had hostage negotiator courses, hell we had the one in Taos together. None of them were like this. Not the cases we studied, not the scenarios we did tabletop exercises and role playing with. These guys are trapped like rats, and we couldn't untrap them if we wanted to. We had nothing we could offer them, and we had nothing we could take away from them. No matter what you said, how you played it, there was no way you were going to win this one."
"Well that's just great, Enriquez. Maybe you can even convince me it's not my fault. But if you think it's going to help me look the Parker's in the eye, or even the Evans', you are wrong."
Officer Ortiz looked at Jim Valenti and wished he could do more for his friend, but in truth he really didn't feel any better than Jim did.
SWAT Team Commander Enriquez Ortiz was looking at Sheriff Jim Valenti. He'd known the man for 6 years, known him well for 4 years, and he had never seen him so...crushed. So totally defeated.
"It's not your fault, Jim. You had nothing to bargain with. There wasn't a damn thing you or I or anyone else could do. We've both had hostage negotiator courses, hell we had the one in Taos together. None of them were like this. Not the cases we studied, not the scenarios we did tabletop exercises and role playing with. These guys are trapped like rats, and we couldn't untrap them if we wanted to. We had nothing we could offer them, and we had nothing we could take away from them. No matter what you said, how you played it, there was no way you were going to win this one."
"Well that's just great, Enriquez. Maybe you can even convince me it's not my fault. But if you think it's going to help me look the Parker's in the eye, or even the Evans', you are wrong."
Officer Ortiz looked at Jim Valenti and wished he could do more for his friend, but in truth he really didn't feel any better than Jim did.
Sunday Morning 1:15AM, Roswell Sheriff’s Office.
There were two deputies and two SWAT Team members on duty in the bank, even though there didn’t appear to be any way the vault could possibly be opened until Monday morning. Jim Valenti had gone home and tried to sleep, but the picture of Garber assaulting the girl, and the taunting words of McMillan wouldn’t leave his mind. So here he was, wide awake, sitting in the conference room running and rerunning the surveillance video.
He’d been a little suspicious of Max Evans when he’d first heard that he was one of four people in the bank vault, at least before he’d read the interview with Phillip Evans and seen the video of the initial gunfight.
He’d been there in the Crashdown when Jeff Parker had, at the last minute, sent Liz to the bank instead of going himself. Max had also been dragged along to the bank by his father. It was only the wildest of coincidences that saw both kids in the bank at the same time, nothing to start conspiracy theories about, Jim realized.
But when he could no longer bear to watch the two gunmen botch the holdup, and retreat to the vault with their hostages, Jim had fast forwarded to before the arrival of the gunmen, to watch as each teenager had come to the scene.
The Evans kid had arrived first, appearing deadly bored and impatient for his father to finish his business with the notary. When the Parker girl showed up, that changed. As he read the boy’s body language, the Sheriff realized that the boy was trying to avoid her, trying to put distance between himself and the girl, trying to avoid even looking at her. He had believed that Max was somehow threatening Liz, but that sure didn’t appear to be the case in the security video. And Liz sure didn’t seem threatened. The surveillance video didn’t really have the resolution to look at her face closely but the body language initially was like she was kind of vexed, not quite angry, but a little irritated. She certainly didn’t try to avoid eye contact with the boy, and didn’t appear the least threatened by him. In several of the frames her face almost looked, ….well, almost possessive, for lack of a better word.
Whatever issue was going on between these two, it certainly wasn’t the one he’d believed it to be for the last three weeks.
Valenti watched the screen as the two gunmen entered. When that happened, the dynamic with the boy changed immediately. Jim hadn’t really noticed it the first time he saw it. There was confusion, disorganization, and then when all hell broke loose, Max who had been entirely on the other side of the lobby was suddenly beside Liz. When he fast forwarded from the moment the first gun came out, until the two kids were crowded into the vault together, the pattern shown through clearly. Random movements and frightened people were everywhere in the crowd in that room, but Max Evans had slowly but purposely taken advantage of everyone else’s movements to screen himself as he moved to Liz Parker’s side, as he moved to place himself between Liz Parker and the two gunmen.
Whatever trouble there was between the two teenagers, it had all been cancelled out by the threat to the girl. There was no hesitation, no indecision, and the movement was made just about as fast as it could be made without being detected by the gunmen.
When the deputies had arrived and the firing started, both kids had been crowded into the vault ahead of the gunmen, and in the firing as the door closed Evans had shoved the girl into a corner of the vault, putting his body between her and the oncoming bullets. Again, no hesitation, no thought for himself. ‘So much for the idea that this kid was some sort of a threat to her.’ Jim couldn’t believe he could have read the situation so wrong, but he certainly had, and that was obvious as soon as the boy was hit in the head with the bullet. He had dropped like a rock, and at that point instantly had become the most important thing in the world to Liz Parker. She had cradled his head in her lap sitting on the floor, oblivious to anything but the boy, softly running her fingers through his hair and sobbing quietly, not appearing even to notice the thugs, the negotiations, or anything else.
Even when the SOB had assaulted her it seemed her priority was more getting back to care for Max Evans than trying to defend herself.
So much for his theory she was terrified of the lad.
‘Damn, how could I have misjudged so badly?’ Nobody was threatening anybody here, these two kids were in love, for cripes sake. Granted, they didn’t seem real experienced at being in love, and appeared to be having all sorts of problems with it, but both of the teenagers looked like they were more than ready to die for the other.
‘This sucks,’ thought Jim Valenti. ‘The real worry was never that Max Evans was going to hurt the girl, but that maybe the two of them might wind up in the back seat of some car or in some motel room together. And as much as that might have bothered everybody 12 hours ago,’ he thought, 'I’d bet all four of their parents today would give anything they had if the kids were just in that motel room together right now instead of in that damn vault with those thugs.’
He looked again at the wounded Max Evans. The camera didn’t show his wound well, but the way he’d dropped, it looked bad. He wondered if the kid were even alive now.
There were two deputies and two SWAT Team members on duty in the bank, even though there didn’t appear to be any way the vault could possibly be opened until Monday morning. Jim Valenti had gone home and tried to sleep, but the picture of Garber assaulting the girl, and the taunting words of McMillan wouldn’t leave his mind. So here he was, wide awake, sitting in the conference room running and rerunning the surveillance video.
He’d been a little suspicious of Max Evans when he’d first heard that he was one of four people in the bank vault, at least before he’d read the interview with Phillip Evans and seen the video of the initial gunfight.
He’d been there in the Crashdown when Jeff Parker had, at the last minute, sent Liz to the bank instead of going himself. Max had also been dragged along to the bank by his father. It was only the wildest of coincidences that saw both kids in the bank at the same time, nothing to start conspiracy theories about, Jim realized.
But when he could no longer bear to watch the two gunmen botch the holdup, and retreat to the vault with their hostages, Jim had fast forwarded to before the arrival of the gunmen, to watch as each teenager had come to the scene.
The Evans kid had arrived first, appearing deadly bored and impatient for his father to finish his business with the notary. When the Parker girl showed up, that changed. As he read the boy’s body language, the Sheriff realized that the boy was trying to avoid her, trying to put distance between himself and the girl, trying to avoid even looking at her. He had believed that Max was somehow threatening Liz, but that sure didn’t appear to be the case in the security video. And Liz sure didn’t seem threatened. The surveillance video didn’t really have the resolution to look at her face closely but the body language initially was like she was kind of vexed, not quite angry, but a little irritated. She certainly didn’t try to avoid eye contact with the boy, and didn’t appear the least threatened by him. In several of the frames her face almost looked, ….well, almost possessive, for lack of a better word.
Whatever issue was going on between these two, it certainly wasn’t the one he’d believed it to be for the last three weeks.
Valenti watched the screen as the two gunmen entered. When that happened, the dynamic with the boy changed immediately. Jim hadn’t really noticed it the first time he saw it. There was confusion, disorganization, and then when all hell broke loose, Max who had been entirely on the other side of the lobby was suddenly beside Liz. When he fast forwarded from the moment the first gun came out, until the two kids were crowded into the vault together, the pattern shown through clearly. Random movements and frightened people were everywhere in the crowd in that room, but Max Evans had slowly but purposely taken advantage of everyone else’s movements to screen himself as he moved to Liz Parker’s side, as he moved to place himself between Liz Parker and the two gunmen.
Whatever trouble there was between the two teenagers, it had all been cancelled out by the threat to the girl. There was no hesitation, no indecision, and the movement was made just about as fast as it could be made without being detected by the gunmen.
When the deputies had arrived and the firing started, both kids had been crowded into the vault ahead of the gunmen, and in the firing as the door closed Evans had shoved the girl into a corner of the vault, putting his body between her and the oncoming bullets. Again, no hesitation, no thought for himself. ‘So much for the idea that this kid was some sort of a threat to her.’ Jim couldn’t believe he could have read the situation so wrong, but he certainly had, and that was obvious as soon as the boy was hit in the head with the bullet. He had dropped like a rock, and at that point instantly had become the most important thing in the world to Liz Parker. She had cradled his head in her lap sitting on the floor, oblivious to anything but the boy, softly running her fingers through his hair and sobbing quietly, not appearing even to notice the thugs, the negotiations, or anything else.
Even when the SOB had assaulted her it seemed her priority was more getting back to care for Max Evans than trying to defend herself.
So much for his theory she was terrified of the lad.
‘Damn, how could I have misjudged so badly?’ Nobody was threatening anybody here, these two kids were in love, for cripes sake. Granted, they didn’t seem real experienced at being in love, and appeared to be having all sorts of problems with it, but both of the teenagers looked like they were more than ready to die for the other.
‘This sucks,’ thought Jim Valenti. ‘The real worry was never that Max Evans was going to hurt the girl, but that maybe the two of them might wind up in the back seat of some car or in some motel room together. And as much as that might have bothered everybody 12 hours ago,’ he thought, 'I’d bet all four of their parents today would give anything they had if the kids were just in that motel room together right now instead of in that damn vault with those thugs.’
He looked again at the wounded Max Evans. The camera didn’t show his wound well, but the way he’d dropped, it looked bad. He wondered if the kid were even alive now.
Monday 2:00 AM Roswell Sheriff’s Office.
After two hours of lying in a cot in his office trying to sleep, Jim Valenti had given up the attempt. With his eyes closed in the darkness of his office, his brain would replay again and again the last minutes of the security camera video.
He would rage in frustration at the image of Garber pulling the girl away from the unconscious body of the Evans boy, and hear again in his mind the smack of Garber’s fist against her cheek as she tried to pull herself back to her friend.
Valenti would rage inside as the man tore at her uniform, feeling sick with his own impotence, his inability to “Serve and Protect” these two young people.
But behind his eyelids the surveillance video played on. He would hear the phone ring, watch McMillan pick it up, not hear, but remember in his mind his own frantic words pleading for them to stop, followed by McMillan’s cruel smile as he searched and found the surveillance camera, pointed the shotgun, and fired.
His taunting voice haunted the Sheriff, “You had your chance, Sheriff! If we can’t get away, we might as well enjoy the time we have left.”
He thought of the Parker’s and swore to himself that he would do whatever was necessary to keep them from ever seeing that video.
He was sure where the Parker’s were now, …over at the Crashdown. Their employees were keeping it open on a limited basis after hours, mainly for his deputies and the county SWAT team, making sure they had coffee and anything they wanted off the short-order menu.
Wondering why he was punishing himself this way, he decided he would need to go there this morning to do what he could to prepare them for what would happen at 7:30.
After two hours of lying in a cot in his office trying to sleep, Jim Valenti had given up the attempt. With his eyes closed in the darkness of his office, his brain would replay again and again the last minutes of the security camera video.
He would rage in frustration at the image of Garber pulling the girl away from the unconscious body of the Evans boy, and hear again in his mind the smack of Garber’s fist against her cheek as she tried to pull herself back to her friend.
Valenti would rage inside as the man tore at her uniform, feeling sick with his own impotence, his inability to “Serve and Protect” these two young people.
But behind his eyelids the surveillance video played on. He would hear the phone ring, watch McMillan pick it up, not hear, but remember in his mind his own frantic words pleading for them to stop, followed by McMillan’s cruel smile as he searched and found the surveillance camera, pointed the shotgun, and fired.
His taunting voice haunted the Sheriff, “You had your chance, Sheriff! If we can’t get away, we might as well enjoy the time we have left.”
He thought of the Parker’s and swore to himself that he would do whatever was necessary to keep them from ever seeing that video.
He was sure where the Parker’s were now, …over at the Crashdown. Their employees were keeping it open on a limited basis after hours, mainly for his deputies and the county SWAT team, making sure they had coffee and anything they wanted off the short-order menu.
Wondering why he was punishing himself this way, he decided he would need to go there this morning to do what he could to prepare them for what would happen at 7:30.