“No,” she replied.
He nodded at her. “Stand up slowly and raise your arms.”
Sabrina carefully got to her feet, keeping her hands where the officers could see them. The one who’d spoken had her move into the hallway, where she was quickly searched by another. When he finished, she was escorted away.
They did the same with Jo next. As the officer searched her, she saw the driver’s licenses that Grunt had discarded. After, she was escorted down the hall and into the bank lobby, which was abuzz with activity, far more so than the sleepy scene she’d walked into before the robbery. Sabrina stood in the corner, already being questioned by an officer. The woman looked calm. Now that the crisis was over, was she in shock? Jo wouldn’t have blamed her. It had been a scary situation. She didn’t see any sign of the hostage-takers. Had they gotten away or were they already on their way to jail? And where was Rico?
An officer took Jo to another part of the lobby, where yet another uniformed officer stood guard. Jo glanced around, taking in everyone’s belongings still lying where they had been thrown on the floor. She wondered when she could get her own things back. Rolling her neck, she finally felt some tension leave her. She knew, though, that it would be a long while before she could fully relax. As she drew in a deep breath, a man in a dark suit and tie approached. Jo guessed him to be in his thirties. He was on the shorter side, wiry, with a stubble of hair on both his head and his chin.
“I’m Detective Holton,” he said. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Jo replied, her voice level and calm.
They were about the same height, and he looked her straight in the eye. Jo introduced herself, and he noted her name, then held up a finger, stepped back, and murmured into his phone. A command center would’ve been set up somewhere outside, and a slew of law enforcement personnel would be assisting in his investigation of the bank robbery. Holton would be getting someone to check Jo’s background, and they would soon discover her military history. It would be interesting to see what they thought of her after that. It didn’t concern her all that much, but she was a bit worried that they’d discover what had happened while she’d been in Colorado. She was thinking about that, pondering options, when Holton wrapped up his call and approached her again.
“Where’s Rico?” Jo asked.
“We’ll get to that,” he replied. “Describe the three men who robbed the bank.”
His answer had her worrying about Rico, and she hoped the bank employee hadn’t been hurt or killed, despite how poorly he’d reacted under pressure. Holton’s reply also told her that the hostage-takers had probably gotten away—otherwise he wouldn’t be pressing her for information about them.
“Tell me about the men,” he said again.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jo drew in a deep breath and began. She treated the situation as she would have had she still been in the military, relating information with as few words as possible. She was efficient, specific, with little emotion. She’d get to her feelings later.
She told him what time she’d arrived at the bank and how she’d barely approached the table in the middle of the lobby when the hostage-takers stormed in. Holton asked for descriptions of everyone in the bank, including the three men, and she told him what she’d observed. He didn’t ask a lot of questions at that point. He was looking for anything that might help him in the moment, any clues in their hunt for the assailants.
She fixed hard eyes on him. “Where are they now?”
He contemplated her for a moment as he scratched the stubble on his chin. “We’re looking for them. Did they give you any indication where they might’ve gone, or what their plans were?”
She shook her head. “They didn’t say a whole lot, and they were careful not to reveal anything to us. Efficient, well planned. They didn’t waste time.”
He nodded, then briefly went over everything she’d told him again. As he did so, Jo saw that the other hostages were being gathered in the bank lobby as well, separated from each other for private interviewing. Several were visibly shaking, while others wore blank faces, still in shock.
“We’re going to take you down to the station for more questioning. Before we do that, is there anything you need?”
Her throat was parched. “I could use a drink of water.”
“I’ll get you some. Hold on.”
Holton hurried out of the bank lobby, returning a minute later with a bottle of water. Jo thanked him and drank half of it before he could say another word. The liquid was soothing as it traveled down her throat.
“Let’s get you to the station,” he said.
“Okay.”
He waved over a uniformed officer, who nodded politely at Jo and escorted her out of the bank without speaking to her. The building lobby was full of law enforcement personnel, their voices and footsteps echoing loudly in the cavernous space. Jo squinted at the sunlight as they walked outside. The street had been cordoned off, and several police and SWAT team vehicles were parked up and down the block. Behind crime-scene tape, a group of reporters craned for a view as cameramen videoed the area. Several more people loitered nearby, trying to get a look at the bank.
The officer put Jo in the back of a squad car and inched his way down the block, where another officer moved a wooden barricade out of the way so the vehicle could pass. Jo looked at the high-rises, thankful that she and all the other hostages had gotten out alive.
Then she remembered Rico again. What had happened to him? Was he all right? Jo felt a familiar pulling at her heart. She’d been on plenty of missions where something had gone wrong, where someone had gotten hurt or killed. On her final mission, Dack had been the victim, and she’d blamed herself for a long time. Every operation, she’d wished she had done something differently that would’ve made for a better outcome. She was thinking about the bank now, wondering if she should have stepped in and said more when Rico was getting agitated. That might’ve just made the situation worse—there was no way to know. You couldn’t go back and do it over to test; she knew that all too well. She downed the rest of the water and let out a heavy sigh, still second-guessing herself regardless of what logic told her. The officer spoke up.
“Everything okay, ma’am?”
They were stopped at a light, and he was peering at her in the rearview mirror.
“I’m tired,” Jo said.
“I’ll bet.”
He continued studying her until the light changed, and then he drove on.
A few minutes later, they arrived at a police station, a four-story brick building with reflective glass. There were more reporters waiting out front, but the officer drove to the side of the building and through a gate to a parking garage that was out of view. He pulled up near a bank of elevators and walked Jo into the building, which was also a flurry of activity. A hostage situation at a bank would do that to a precinct. He turned her over to another detective, who politely introduced himself as Buchanan.
Buchanan wore a white shirt, no tie, and he had a pad and paper in his hand. He again asked if she needed medical attention, and when she confirmed that she didn’t, a female officer went with her to a bathroom, where Jo took a few minutes, then washed her hands as the detective waited by the sinks. Neither said a word.
Back outside, Buchanan took her to an interrogation room and had her take a seat at a rectangular metal table. The door closed behind him, shutting out any noise in the hall. A sweet, flowery scent filled the room, but the air freshener didn’t quite mask that odor she knew so well—sweat, terror, like in the storage room. Who had been interrogated here last, and what had they been suspected of? Whatever it was, it had instilled fear that still lingered.
“I know this has already been a long and stressful day for you,” Buchanan began, “and I’m afraid I’m going to add to it.”
“I understand,” Jo said.
He had a warm and engaging manner, which she appreciated. Bedside manner wasn’t just for doctors.
“Detective Holton will be here in a while, and he wants to talk to you again. In the meantime”—he pushed the pad and paper across the table to her—“I want you to write down everything you saw and heard, everything you can think of from the moment you walked into the bank this morning.”
