I must have been looking grim. Shaking myself, I fought to put on a new smile. “I wish I could have helped you more.”
“You did help me.” Confused, I gave him my full attention. “The answer isn't always as obvious as we'd like. So you don't recall the robbery, fine. That just means I have to work harder. And maybe that's what was always needed to crack this case. Nothing wrong with a little hard work, right?”
“Right,” I whispered.
“It wasn't a waste of time,” he said firmly. He stood over me, the thick clouds behind his head starting to lighten up. “I'm glad I got to meet you, Alexis. You made me think about everything a little differently.”
“I did?”
“Yeah.” Flashing his teeth, he winked. “And honestly, I think being forced to dig into your past must have helped you, too. When I met you a few weeks ago, you were... I don't want to sound like a dick, but you were kind of fragile. I don't get that same vibe anymore.”
Rain tickled my eyelashes, I didn't wipe it away. What is he talking about?
“Anyway,” he said, looking over his shoulder at the sky. “Thanks for trying. It means a lot. And... would you look at that beautiful sight?” He walked away from me for a few steps. “Rain is stopping, sun is shining, and I have an assload of paperwork to get on. See ya, Alexis.”
Lifting my arm, I spoke with determination. “Bye, Vermont.”
He stopped short, his mouth opening in surprise. I knew calling him by his first name would make him happy. He deserved that.
With a final wave, he strolled down the sidewalk.
The sky was cutting through the clouds, ignoring the blacker bits that still lingered in the distance. Long after the detective was out of sight, I stood on those wet steps and thought about what he'd said.
No longer fragile...
When I finally went inside, the puddles were gone.
- Chapter Twenty-two -
Alexis
“Mom, please,” I groaned. “I don't want to talk about this.”
“But honey,” her voice chopped through my phone. “Just tell me what went wrong. It had to be pretty bad to break up with a guy who could fly you all the way to LA for a weekend!”
Hunching over my steering wheel, I again regretted picking up the phone. “Why don't you want to believe me when I say he messed up?”
She clicked her tongue. “Lexi, I'm just saying that... well... maybe you should reconsider.”
“Reconsider?” I spit the word out.
“You're no spring chicken, dear. Why not settle down with a nice rich man like him and...”
Turning a little harder than I needed to, I debated dropping my phone on the floor of the car. “Mom. Look. You're fixated on all the wrong things.”
“Money isn't ever wrong.”
“I never cared about the money!” The rubber under my hands squeaked from the pressure of my grip. I was about to say more, when the low murmur of my radio slid into my awareness.
The voice in my speakers said, “...Just like years ago, and prompting the bank...”
I turned the radio dial upwards.
“But Alexis, just give him a chance, you aren't getting any young—”
“I need to go.” Clicking the end call button, I dropped my phone into the cup-holder and cranked the radio even louder. The person talking—some news station announcer—filled the air. “Authorities are saying there's still no suspect. Here's officer Santile with more details.”
Santile? That was the cop who'd driven me home the night Silver and I had... Don't think about that. Or him.
“We're still looking over video and talking to witnesses,” Santile said, sounding more severe than he had when he'd helped me. “But the issue comes with the way the robbery happened. We know it occurred sometime around two in the morning. We know no one entered the Goldman Bank, or left it. It seems to have happened entirely through the computer system itself.”
Gripping the wheel, I steered my car into the breakdown lane. Passing drivers honked at me, but I ignored them. Silver. He did it again.
The voices on the radio went sketchy, breaking up. I twisted the knob, but it didn't help, the radio waves were junk. I was regretting my shit-can car when the first speaker came back. “That was Officer Santile. If you have any information about the crime, please call their hotline. The number is one-eight-eight...”
I dropped my forehead against my knuckles. Why did he do it? It's like my mom said, isn't he already rich? Was this a game to him, what would make him risk getting caught?
They said no one entered or left. Last time, he used a little device he had the teller plug in at the bank. He must have gotten better over the years, he didn't even need to show up in person to perform the hack this time.
Sitting tall, I arched my neck and looked at my ceiling. This has nothing to do with me. Even thinking that, guilt still knotted in my stomach. It had become my familiar friend these days.