"And there's no way to know what she did in there?"
"No. To protect the privacy of the customers, there are no cameras in the vault." Her eyes suddenly flash behind me, and she gives a big smile. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"How is everything going over here, Jennifer?"
I look behind me and see coming toward us a younger woman with inky black hair to her shoulders and eyes so blue they could cut glass.
"Everything's just fine," Jennifer says.
The woman stops beside me and turns to face me, extending her hand. "Millie Haynes. I'm the bank manager. What brings you in today?"
The tone of her voice says she doesn't really care; she just doesn't like what she's seeing.
"Hi, I'm Agent Emma Griffin. I'm just here gathering some information. Everyone has been very helpful. I appreciate it,” I say.
“Information about what?” Millie asks, her eyebrows raised in suspicion. She looks over and sees Dean. “Oh, it's you again. I thought you got everything you needed.”
“New details have come up in the investigation,” Dean tells her.
“Well, I can assure you, this bank has no information that can help you. As I'm sure my tellers have already told you, our in-person interactions with Mr. and Mrs. Goldman have been limited at best. We have no in-depth knowledge of their personal lives beyond what we need to know for their finances. Which, of course, we can’t share with you,” Millie says.
“We understand that,” I tell her. “We are here simply because I am involved in the investigation now and am reviewing all available information. As this is the last place Mrs. Goldman was seen, and as Mr. Goldman interacted with the bank account both before and after he was last seen, it's a place for me to start. But we don't need to take up any more time. I appreciate your help.”
“Thank you,” Millie says. “Good luck with your investigation.”
We start toward the door, but I turn to look at her again. “Oh, I just want to mention. If we do find reason, we will be back. I just don't want you to be surprised to see us again.”
I smile at her, and we continue across the lobby. Before we get to the door, Dean stops me.
“Give me just a second. I want to check something,” he whispers.
He jogs back over to Ethan. They speak in hushed tones for a moment, then Ethan comes around the counter, and they walk into the back of the bank. While I'm waiting, I notice several men in dark suits walk into the bank. From the row of chairs to the side of the lobby where I've stepped to wait for Dean, I see the men zero in on Millie. She notices them as they start toward her and rushes to meet them.
One reaches into his pocket, and even from a distance, I can recognize the flash of his detective's badge.
Chapter Fifteen
The conversation looks tense. Millie is clearly not pleased that the officers are here, but they either aren't picking up on the not-too-subtle clues of her guarded, defiant body language, or they don't care. I'm going with the latter. These aren't beat cops strolling the tiny town's streets, hoping to find a car in an illegal parking lot or dealing with a purse snatcher. These are hardened detectives. They don't care one bit if she's unhappy they've come into the bank. They'll get what they want out of her or keep at her until they do.
“No, I'm not going to step into my office with you,” Millie snaps in response to something the detective said to her. “You need to say whatever it is that you have to say, then leave. This is the third time you've been here, and I don't have anything more to add."
One of the great things about old banks is their exceptional acoustics. If you know where to stand, you can hear what's going on in just about every corner of the building. What's great about the modernization of these buildings…water fountains. There just happens to be one built into the wall a few yards diagonally from where the bank manager is standing with the officers.
And I'm suddenly feeling thirsty.
“We think you do,” the detective says. “We have reason to believe you have more information about this than you've been forthcoming with so far.”
Walking by them toward the fountain, I can hear their conversation more clearly. I bend down for a sip and continue listening. I shouldn't. But she clearly isn't concerned about the privacy of what's going on between them, so tending to my personal hydration needs while also getting a bit of information in the mix isn't so far out of line.
Something is going on here. Millie is far too uptight, too guarded.
"What could I possibly have to tell you about that girl? As I've told you every other time we've had this talk, Lakyn Monroe doesn't have, and has never had, an account at this bank," Millie says.
Now we're getting somewhere.
"Yes, you have told us that," the detective begins.
"Then what more do you expect me to say about it? I don't know anything else about her. I never met her. Never spoke with her. I certainly didn't have anything to do with her disappearance."
"We aren't accusing you of anything. This is not personal. If it was, we wouldn't have come to your place of work to discuss it," the detective says. "This is purely an investigative matter."
“And there is nothing more I can help you with. Now, I really must ask that you leave. Bank customers don't exactly feel at ease when coming into a branch crawling with police and FBI,” she says.
I'm not looking at them directly, so I can't tell for sure, but it seems as if Millie's eyes dart over to me for a second.
"FBI?" the detective asks.
"If you'll excuse me," she says. "I really do need to get back to work. Have a nice afternoon, gentlemen."
She steps
