The Shadows Between

Chapter 1 (cont.)

Back at the front of the bank he walked to his "reserved" parking spot, which was reserved only by the fact that it was the furthest from the back and he was always first. Head down, shoulders slumped, he physically manifested his despair. Taking some deep breaths when he reached his car he tried to exhale and release his internal troubles. As if by some biochemical lever, his anxieties abated enough for him to realize he hadn't called Janey, his wife, since lunch.

He had mentioned he might be late - but he doesn't think he has ever been this late. He patted his pockets for his phone. Pulling it out, he found it off and the battery died. He unlocked the drivers door and got in his Saab 9-3 and connected his phone to the cigarette lighter charger. He knew it would take several minutes before he could even power on his phone, so he decided to do some more breathing exercises. They were called decompression exercises. He learned their usefulness early in his career, marriage and fatherhood. "Leave work at work." The mantra that he felt formed the foundation to his quiet success. But when it rains, it pours- and foundations shift and houses can be swept away. As is the whims of downpours and mudslides.

He backed into his parking spot most morning, at the view out the windshield was the bank that had been such an important part of his life, As he turned his view forward he focussed on the rearview mirror instead . His view was on the mostly empty parking lot of the strip mall that the bank was adjacent to. The closest building was a discount clothing store whose parking lot was down to a handful of cars, but seemed to be closed. The building itself was 150, maybe 200 yards away from where he sat in his car and about 25 more yards from the bank itself. Fred tried to conceptualize some bank robbers using the discount clothing store as a jump off to tunnel the distance to steal the $78,565 the bank had in its vault. He couldn't; but he decided to check into what he'd need to search for any tunnels on the premises. He shook his head in bewilderment and despair, and grabbed his phone.

He hit the power button and waited for his Blackberry, which qualified as prehistoric by modern technological standards, to power up. He had 6 missed calls, 3 voicemails, as well as alerts for emails and texts. Knowing that a good portion of the missed calls, voicemails, and texts were from his wife he called his wife.

"...Janey, I am leaving work now. ... Yes, honey, just now. My battery died. ... Yes, it's been a crazy day. We'll talk when I get home. ... Love ya. I'll be home in 15 minutes. ... I will eat, shower then slide into bed with you. Don't worry. Get rest. ... OK, bye.

Even though she told him his dinner was in the fridge and he would join her in bed, he was quite sure he would find his dinner ready on the dining room table with her sitting across the table. She had already heard about the bank heist and she would want to hear more when he got home. Part of her quiet success as a wife had been knowing that work could never be left at work.

Before pulling out, Fred checked the text messages; two were from his wife, one was from his son. His son, Phil, said he "mite b out 4 nite." Fred had an urge to repeat his familiar admonishment to his son to not text him like one of his friends, but he let the urge pass. He usually never hesitates to send texts, ever since he got his Blackberry 7 years ago as a present when he became branch manager. Now he has taken less pride from the novelty of the miniature keyboard, than from its perceived obsolescence. It was an artifact, just like his 2002 Saab 9-3. But recently his obsolete Blackberry has received some cool points from tweens for its "cute little keyboard," who are more likely to equate apples to electronics and Blackberries to fruit.

Fred started his beloved Saab, with its push button ignition. He pulled out of the parking lot and drove home following the same path he had taken for the majority of the 10 years he worked here. The groove of the routine was worn so comfortably deep that he couldn't see any other route, except riding into the sunset as his local branch's bank manager. Yet even as uncertainty filled his head, he could take solace in the life he had built for his family and the safety net he had created. He was blessed with a son who was accepted to some of the best universities in the nation, but got his son the accept the more frugal end-around through the community college. Saving him 10s of thousands of dollars. He has also been able to save over $250,00 in retirement. He had a rental property that he owned outright and only had three more years on his mortgage.

Now he felt like his job was on the line, and maybe his freedom... if this robbery couldn't be solved, how couldn't he not be the main suspect the suspicion falls on. He had forgotten to lock the vault the night before. Just him remembering this caused a tightness in his body. How would he ever get a job at a bank again! He started to think of the early years while he worked at the paper factory and finished his undergraduate degree. Even though he hung his MBA up in his office, it was the grind of those years he was most proud. Now those years also give him an irrational fear- surely, never in a worse case scenario, would he have to go back to that grind...right? He pulled into his garage next to Janey's 2018 Honda Odyssey. Entering the dining room, he found Janey had placed his dinner on the small table in the kitchen. This is where they often ate, since Phil had started college.

Before Fred gets to the table, Janey is setting down garlic bread she had just heated up. When she sees him she gives him a hug.

"Take off your coat, set down your bag and come and eat."

He sets down his briefcase and hangs his jacket over a chair in the dining room and sits down at the table.

"It's too late for soda, do you want some iced-tea? It's pomegranate," Janey asks as she looks in the fridge.

Sitting in front of the linguini with Alfredo, with what he was pretty sure was scallops - his wife had most likely picked up fresh today-and a side of asparagus, he felt a wave of anger. He felt like their lives might be on the cusp of disaster and his wife was just pushing forward with normality. He took a deep breath.

"Water's fine,"as he stabbed a scallop. "Janey, they robbed the vault without leaving a trace!" Janey set a glass of water down and sat across from him.

"They took every God damn penny like a gosh darn magician," looking up at his wife, hoping she would understand.

Seeing the anguish on his face, Janey placed her hand on Fred's left hand, waiting for him to make eye contact. "Fred... let the Police handle it. You do your job and let them do theirs. ... How is everyone else taking it?"

"You're right," he knew changing the topic would appease her and preserve his worry. "Who did Phil go out with?"

He wouldn't say! On top of that he didn't get a hold of you on the phone, so he wasn't even going to let you know he wasn't coming home! I said, "oh no! You send him a text, right now.' ..."

Focussing more on the food now, than Janey; he started rolling through possible scenarios.