The Girls I've Been(16)

“Nora, they’ve used the furniture to barricade the front,” Lee says. “Do not try to get out the front. You might not have enough time to get it cleared before they come back. It’s a dead end. We don’t have a way in until SWAT gets here with the blasting equipment. The fucking building is like a brick fortress.”

“How do we get out?” I whisper.

“The basement’s got an exit. But we can’t access it from the outside.”

Of course. I close my eyes. Shit. Time to throw the basement plan out the window.

“Nora?” Lee says.

“I love you.” I need to say it to her. I don’t say it a lot. I should’ve said it more.

“Nora.” A warning I don’t heed.

“I’ll figure it out.” A promise I have to make. “Just . . . I need you to pull out the megaphone. I need to be sure they’re out of this hallway.”

“What hallway?”

“Lee.”

“Right. Megaphone. Got it.”

“I gotta go.”

I hang up before I can sob or whimper. I crouch in that dark office for a moment, fear battering through me like fists. And I wait.

This far away from the parking lot, her voice is faded, but Lee has a way of projecting, even without a megaphone.

“I’ve got some information for you about your friend Mr. Frayn. But you’re not picking up my calls.”

The phones start ringing again, on cue.

I strain to hear it: footsteps fading away. I think I hear it. God, please, let that be it and not just wishful thinking.

I’ve got no choice but to spring into action. I don’t have time to be neat, so I tear through his desk like a whirlwind. Where are they? Keys, gold, brass, silver, long, skinny, short, I need them. I headed into this thinking I wanted to hand the keys over like a gift, and now the last thing I want is for them to get their hands near them. They get into the basement, we won’t get out alive. Gray Cap is totally the kind of guy who’d use a hostage as a human shield.

There aren’t any keys in any of Theodore Frayn’s desk drawers. His filing cabinets don’t yield anything either. I don’t have much more time. The phones are still ringing. Gray Cap still hasn’t picked up. Pick up, you jerk.

And then the ringing stops, and relief curls in my stomach. Gray Cap’s engaging Lee. He’s not right outside.

I push the filing cabinet drawer back, and that’s when I hear the metallic click on the bottom. I pull it out again, tilting my head upside down, and there it is: two keys on a ring, taped underneath the drawer. One of the keys has come loose from the tape, dangling free. They’re the old-fashioned ones with the box number stamped on them. They’re the same kind that Lee used to open her own safe-deposit box here.

Unsticking them, I tuck them into my bra. I’ve been here too long. Even if there is a key to the vault around here somewhere, I don’t have time to look more. I’ve got part of what they wanted, at least. Now it’s time to set the trap.

First, I position the office chair underneath the air vent. With my escape secure, I grab a pen off the desk and the pad of sticky notes. Scrawling two words on it, I stick it to the stapler. Then I creep across the room, unlock the door, and open it a crack, slipping the stapler in the gap to keep it open.

The key is to kick the office chair to the side as I pull myself back into the vent. That way, it slides right back into place behind the desk and the entire room looks undisturbed. Except for the open door and my little note.

A total mind-fuck.

Step one of my new plan.

If you can’t beat ’em, you join ’em.

Or, in this case, you con ’em.





— 17 —


    Phone Transcript, Lee Ann O’Malley Engages Hostage Taker #1 (HT1)


August 8, 10:20 a.m.




HT1: Do you have Frayn? Is he out there with you?

O’Malley: You know, this would go easier if I had something to call you.

HT1: Fifteen seconds, Deputy.

O’Malley: I’m not a deputy. Just putting that out there. I’m a civilian, like you. Unless . . . you weren’t always a civvy.

HT1: The words coming out of your mouth have nothing to do with Frayn.

O’Malley: Well, I do have a deputy here with me now. I’m sure you heard the sirens earlier. And the deputy informs me that Mr. Frayn was in a car accident this morning. He’s in the hospital.

HT1: You’re lying. Stalling.

O’Malley: No, I don’t do that.

HT1: Well, that’s unfortunate for everyone in this bank, then.

O’Malley: It does not have to be that way. I’m sure whatever you want from Mr. Frayn, I can get you.

HT1: We’re done here.

O’Malley: Let’s talk about—

[Call disconnected]





— 18 —


10:30 a.m. (78 minutes captive)

1 lighter, 3 bottles of vodka, 1 pair of scissors, 2 safe-deposit keys Plan #1: Scrapped

Plan #2: Work in progress



“Hurry, hurry,” Iris whispers as I lower myself out of the vent and back down into the office with them. “One of them keeps yelling out there. He’s pissed.”

I roll out of the way once I hit the floor, and Wes pushes a chair under the vent.