“Cassie?” Another woman who had been manning the drive-up window behind Cassie, approached the young teller and pointed out something on Cassie’s computer screen. Then they both looked at me. The older woman pulled her aside just to the left of the partition, and I heard her explain something in dulcet tones. Cassie stepped back to her position and tried to smile. The spots on her cheeks were now the size of tomatoes. She looked mortified.
“Um. I’m sorry Miss . . . um Shelby. I’m new . . . and I haven’t seen something like this before. Um, there’s an alert on this account. There’s been some fraudulent activity reported, and no money can be released from the account without the presence of both parties listed on the account.” She said all of this like she was repeating exactly what her superior had just told her.
“But this is my account.” I tapped my driver’s license. “And I am here in person—standing here in front of you . . . not fraudulent. You have verification that I am who I say I am. And that’s my money.” I tried to keep my voice level, my smile in place, but my heart was in my throat, and I felt the burn of shame creeping up my neck in a scarlet line. I had felt this way often growing up in Grassley, using food stamps at the grocery store or having Mama’s debit card declined at the gas station. Shame was like a loud, embarrassing cousin who constantly tagged along and always made sure everyone knew who he was related to. But everyone had cousins in Grassley, so at least then I wasn’t alone.
But I was alone now, staring at the slightly uncomfortable face of a girl who knew who I was . . . who Bonnie Rae Shelby was. Her supervisor stood behind her, prepared to jump in if she needed to.
“So I can’t get any money from my account even though there’s half a million dollars in there.”
“Actually, ma’am,” the supervisor spoke up. “There’s only about ten thousand dollars in the account. A large sum was removed two days ago.”
I choked as if I’d been sucker punched. Gran was the only one who could walk into a bank and pull five hundred grand from my account. “But you just said no money could be removed from the account without both parties present,” I gasped.
“The money must have been withdrawn before the alert was placed on the account,” the older woman answered neatly. The expression on her face indicated she believed I was the reason there was a fraud alert on the account. And I guess I was. But it was my money.
I stood staring at them for the space of two deep breaths. They stared back. I didn’t stop to think about the consequences of what I did next. I was too angry. I reached forward and snatched up the neat little pile of cash still sitting in front of the fresh-faced teller. Sorry, Cassie. You snooze you lose. The receipt was tucked inside the envelope as well.
“Consider the account closed then, ladies,” I called out over my shoulder as I walked swiftly toward the door.
“Ma’am! You can’t do that!” the supervisor called out behind me.
“I just did. And I have a receipt.”
“We’ll call the police!”
“I’m sure you will. Tell them I said hi.”
I pushed out of the little building, the money still clenched in my hand. There was no security guard to stop me, no alarms clanging as I reached for the door of Bear’s black Charger.
“Drive,” I said, as I slid inside.
Chapter Fourteen
ST LOUIS WAS BARELY in their rearview mirror before they were pulling off in a little town called Pacific to gas up. Finn was jittery, and Bonnie seemed rattled too, because when he wasn’t looking in the rearview mirror, he caught her throwing furtive looks behind them too. She was trying to be sneaky about it, but she wasn’t great at keeping her feelings hidden. She’d been upset when she came out of the bank in St. Louis, though she hadn’t said much about it. She’d muttered something about a “reckoning,” but when he’d questioned her, she just shook her head and said, “I’m damn tired of my life. And I’m tired of the people in it, present company excluded. I’ve made a lot of people wealthy, and you better believe there will be a reckoning.”
She sounded cute when she said reckoning. Reckonin’ was how she said it, like she was on the set of a Clint Eastwood western. But Finn didn’t laugh. Bonnie Rae had been used and emotionally abused on her road to fame and fortune, and he was going to help her get her reckoning, even it meant putting his own ass on the line. Even if it meant showing up at an event like the Oscars in all his bad boy glory, just so Bonnie Rae could stick it to her gran.
While he’d filled the tank and picked up two sandwiches at the gas station, Bonnie ran across the street to a little clothing store for a few things. Finn had groaned inwardly, thinking he would be waiting forever, but Bonnie was back in roughly the same amount of time it took him to fulfill his assignments. She had a clean shirt for each of them, plus underwear and socks for both of them as well—which she cheerfully informed him she was wearing, along with a white V-necked T-shirt that looked a whole lot better than the one she’d borrowed from him, although he’d kind of liked the idea of her wearing his shirt.
He wondered what she’d done with the skull panties, but didn’t ask. He marveled how easy she was to please, how such little things like clean panties and a new shirt could make her smile, and thought again about the reckoning. Interesting that he was thinking about meting out justice as he slowed and came to a stop at the red light just before the freeway entrance.
A panhandler stood on the median entreating drivers for mercy and cash. Bonnie watched him as Finn waited for the light to turn—Finn always felt bad not giving people who begged for help the dignity of eye contact, but eye contact was a signal that the window was coming down, and money was going to exchange hands. Sure enough, Bonnie reached for her purse, and Finn shot her a look that said “no.” She sat back regretfully. Good girl. Maybe she was learning.