Chapter Thirteen
On Track
Megan
A young woman with latte-color skin, dark hair, and brown eyes bright with anxiety stepped into the doorway of the conference room. “I’m Serena,” she said, her voice tight and squeaky with barely controlled emotion. “Grant said you wanted to see me now?”
Detective Jackson waved her in. “Take a seat.”
Serena slid into the chair Grant had vacated.
Jackson launched right into her questions. “Did you recognize the robbers, Serena?”
“No,” the young woman replied, her lip quivering. “I didn’t recognize either of them.”
“Either?” I repeated. “So you saw only two men?”
She nodded.
“What did they look like?” Jackson asked.
“It’s hard to say. It all happened so fast and—” She paused to wipe an errant tear from her cheek. “I was so scared. I was afraid they’d shoot us all.”
Jackson nodded in understanding. “Just do your best, hon. That’s all we ask.”
“Okay.” Serena chewed her lip in concentration. “Both were white. The one who came to the counter was short. He was wearing a dark hoodie and mittens and a green hat made to look like a frog. He had his right hand in his pocket and was pointing a gun at Grant through the fabric. The one who stood at the doors was average height, I guess. He wore a plaid hat that came down over his ears. The kind that lumberjacks wear. He also wore sunglasses. He was holding some kind of rifle or shotgun. I’m not sure what kind exactly. I don’t know much about guns.”
“How was he holding the gun?” Jackson asked.
“In both hands.” Serena stood so she could demonstrate. “Pointed up and to the left. Like this.” She demonstrated what was commonly known as the ready carry.
“Was his finger on the trigger?” I asked.
“No.” She slid back into her seat. “One hand was wrapped around the barrel and the other hand was gripping the wider part behind the trigger.”
“The stock,” I supplied.
“Right.”
While current Texas law prohibited the open carry of handguns, rifles and shotguns could be carried into banks. As long as the gun was legally owned, the man had violated no gun laws. He’d obviously caused the tellers and customers to drop a load of shit bricks, though.
“Was the man with the gun also wearing mittens?” the detective asked. “Or some kind of gloves?”
Serena looked down for a moment, as if trying to conjure up an image of the man. “I’m pretty sure he was wearing a pair of leather gloves. Brown ones.”
Jackson tilted her head. “How can you be sure the man at the door was with the other in the frog hat? Is it possible the man came to the bank on his own and just happened to stumble upon the robbery?”
“I don’t think so,” Serena said. “The man with the gun stood by the doors until the other guy left with the bag of money. Then he walked out right after him. That means they were together, doesn’t it?”
Jackson bobbed her head. “That’s a reasonable assumption.”
“Were the men thin or heavy?” I asked.
Serena’s brow furrowed. “It’s hard to say for sure because they were both wearing loose clothes. But the guy who came to the counter seemed to have thick legs so I’d guess he was heavy.”
Jackson gazed for a moment at the young woman. “Grant Dawson says Christopher Vogel attempted to assault him after Vogel discovered you and Dawson had been seeing each other.”
Serena’s eyes darkened, and she lowered her head to look down at her lap. Grant seem to have no regrets, but at least Serena seemed to feel remorseful about how she’d handled things. “I should’ve told Chris up front but, to be honest, I wasn’t sure how serious Grant was about me. Grant goes through a lot of girls.”
Jackson pointed out the obvious conclusion. “And you wanted to hedge your bets. See if things worked out with Grant before breaking things off with Chris.”
Serena nodded feebly. “Does that make me a horrible person?”
I was tempted to answer “yes” to that. Everything was not fair in love and war. She should’ve been honest with Vogel. But no sense upsetting a witness further. Besides, it was clear Serena already knew she’d made a mistake.
When neither the detective nor I responded to the question, Serena looked up, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “I feel horrible about what happened. It was my fault Chris lost his job. Everyone around here liked him. The manager wanted to give Chris a second chance, but Grant insisted Chris be fired. Grant said if Chris wasn’t let go immediately he’d sue the bank for every penny it was worth.”
Interesting.… Had Grant been looking for an easy way to get his hands on some cash? Maybe even planned to provoke Chris into a physical confrontation?
“Have you heard from Chris since he was terminated?” I asked.
Serena shook her head. “I’ve left a bunch of voicemails for him and just as many emails. I even tried to message him through Facebook but he’d unfriended me.”
Jackson tapped the point of her pen on her pad. “You think Chris could have been in on the holdup in some way? Could he have been the man carrying the gun?”
Her eyes grew wide and she shook her head. “No. No way. Chris is a really nice guy. He’d never do something like this. He’s the type of person who puts change in other people’s parking meters when he sees that the time is about to run out.”
The detective frowned. “Are you aware that feeding someone else’s meter to extend the time beyond the stated limit is a citable offense?”
Serena’s brows lifted. “Are you serious?”
“Mm-hm.”
The young woman’s shoulders slumped. “It’s just not possible,” she insisted. “Chris doesn’t own a gun. He’s never been the hunting type. I don’t think he’d even know how to shoot a rifle.”
I leaned forward and rested my elbows on the table. “What about Dawson?” He was quite the cocky one and didn’t seem very upset by the robbery. “You think he knew it was coming? That he could be in on the heist?”
Serena exhaled a long breath. “I’d believe Grant was a part of it way before I’d believe Chris was. Grant’s kind of materialistic. He’s got every electronic product on the market and has been talking about wanting to buy a Jet Ski before summer. But I really can’t see either one of them being in on a robbery.”
Was Serena right? Were Chris Vogel and Grant Dawson innocent? Or were her assessments of the men colored by her relationships with them?
Jackson launched into a series of standard questions. Had Serena noticed anyone odd in the bank lately? Someone snapping photos, perhaps, or loitering without a clear purpose? Anyone who seemed to be casing the place?
“No,” the young woman said. “I haven’t noticed anyone suspicious.”
“All right,” Jackson said. “Is there anything else you can tell us? Anything we missed?”
“I don’t know if this is important or not,” Serena said. “But I was working the window next to Grant, and when the guy in the frog hat stepped up I noticed he smelled funny.”
“Funny how?” I asked.
“Like smoke.”
“Cigarette smoke?” Jackson asked.
“No,” Serena replied. “It was different than that. Stronger. And he kind of smelled like gas, too. Like maybe he’d filled his car up on the drive to the bank.”
It took me a moment to connect the dots.
Dot 1—A suspicious fire had been set in the area.
Dot 2—A nearby bank had been robbed by someone who smelled like smoke.
Dot 3—Either the arson was unrelated to the bank robbery—which given the timing and the robber’s odor would have been an amazing coincidence—or the fire starter and the bank robbers were one and the same. They might have started the fire to distract and tie up law enforcement.