“Fine, fine. I guess I'm just a little surprised to see this in person.” She reached out, tracing the hem.
When I moved the dress, something slid my way. The small envelope was deliciously familiar, but I didn't want Laralie to see the note. Tucking it into my lap under the desk, I devised a plan to get her to go away so I could read it. Before I could, a new voice spoke out. “Excuse me, Alexis Willow?”
Together, Laralie and I looked up at the man who had appeared. The broadness of his shoulders showing through his tight, black shirt made it clear he took care of himself. There was a two-day-old scruff around his square jaw, heavy bags looking out of place under his sparkling green eyes. Behind his ear sat a simple red pen.
“Yes?” I asked, “I'm Alexis, and you are...?”
“Detective Roose.” He extended a large, callused hand. On impulse I shook it, but my skin was numb.
The detective. I'd completely forgotten.
Everyone in the room was staring my way, most didn't bother to be subtle. Roose nodded his head to me. “Could we go somewhere a little more private?”
Laralie made a motion behind his back, pushing up her own boobs while wiggling her hips. I read her lips: “Want me to distract him for you?”
Ducking my head, I quickly shook it. I didn't need her to make this worse. “Sure, we can use one of the conference rooms.” I buried the note from Silver in my trouser pocket before I stood.
He ran his thumbs down until they were hooked in his belt. Under one solid arm, a thick folder peeked out. “Lead the way.”
On stiff legs, I turned, marching towards the glass-windowed room down the hall. Everyone was still watching me, and when I peered back at Laralie, she held the box up and mouthed, “I'll guard this for you.”
Guard it? I knew she was probably going to sit and swoon over the dress, imagining she was wearing it to some fancy party. I was extra glad I'd found the note and took it, it would have been a disaster in her hands.
Opening the door, I motioned Roose inside. He tipped his head, settling at the long table as I closed the shutters. I didn't want my coworkers snooping through the windows at us.
“Sorry about all this,” he said as I sat down across from him. His eyes had a wet realness in them that made me think he actually was sorry. He pulled out the folder and a notebook. “I'm really hoping you can help me out.”
Crinkling my forehead, I sat uncomfortably. “You said this was about Old Stone Bank.”
His head bobbed, the red pen twirling in his fingers. I saw how thick they were, as if the young detective had worked on a farm his whole life. “Right. The robbery that happened five years ago. Now, I'm sure you—”
“Is robbery the right word?”
He paused, his pen touching the cover of the notebook. “Excuse me?”
Rocking in place, I shrugged. “I mean, whoever stole all that money... they gave it back to the people it was supposed to go to. Didn't they?”
His smile became very stale, almost patronizing. “Miss Willow, the man who hacked the bank that day, he took what wasn't meant for him. He broke the law. It was a robbery—and a large one. Plain and simple.”
Under the table, I pressed a thumb into the back of one hand. “People were being taken advantage of by that insurance company.” I'd forgotten the name, it had been so long since the news story had broke.
“I guess you listened to that bullshit spin. Bank Robber Hero,” he scoffed. “It's funny. Considering that you were almost killed that day, you're sure happy to defend the criminal we're after.”
Killed. That word cut at me, pushing sweat from my pores. Everything about that day had gone fuzzy in my memory, wobbly and muted like it had happened to someone else and I'd only heard the story secondhand.
But he was right, why was I defending someone who'd put people's lives at stake?
My life?
Guilt burned through me, as if someone had put a battery in my chest and sliced it open. “I'm sorry. You're right.”
He softened his tone. “That sounded like I was accusing you. I'm not. Actually, I'm here because you're one of the few people who had any contact with the man we're after.” His smile was gentle. “I need your help, Miss Willow.”
Pushing my hair from my face, I focused on him. “Years ago, when this all went down, I gave my statement. You should have that in your files.”
“I do, and I've read it several times.” He flicked his notebook open, scanning it. “You didn't have much to say. If anything, you mostly refused to speak. I'm here because I'm hoping to get a clearer picture.”
My tongue shriveled. “I don't remember anything. Not really.”
The pen twisted faster. “Nothing? How is that possible?”