Page 28 of Rescued Dreams (Last Chance Fire and Rescue #8)

TWENTY-SEVEN

A melia climbed out of her car just after nine, when the bank would be open.

She had a few hours until she was supposed to meet Meg at the Bridgewater Café for lunch.

The twins were safely at school. Ridge’s shift lasted until six tonight, and she didn’t know where Maria and Kane were.

It didn’t matter. She had business to take care of.

She was still off-kilter from hearing his stepdad on the phone the night before. Plus not wanting to help the cops with anything if they weren’t going to trust that she wasn’t a criminal.

It was like her last few years being a firefighter meant nothing.

Dark clouds hung in the sky, giving the busy street an ominous feeling—which was of course ridiculous, since the weather didn’t have feelings. Just an association that came with the dim light, the cool temperature, and the breeze that sent strands of her hair across her face.

She slid her wallet into her jacket pocket and her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. For a second, her mind flashed back to the night before. Ridge had walked her to her car. Even after she’d made her point about people never believing her, he’d walked her to her car.

The twins had gone with Kane and Maria, so Amelia had used the drive to think in private. Kane didn’t leave until she did, following her the whole way. Which meant the twins saw Ridge kiss her.

She knew he’d done it on purpose and because he wanted to. Staking his claim in front of anyone watching, making it clear they were…together? She wasn’t sure about that, since they hadn’t officially even been on a date.

Did she want Ridge to show up at her house, freshly showered? Ironed shirt and slacks? Gel in his hair?

Never mind. Of course she did.

Amelia might even consent to wearing a dress and heels for the occasion, even though that meant going shopping. The twins would probably love to go with her and pick something out for Amelia’s first official date with Ridge.

She sighed, pushing out the thoughts. The last thing she needed was to stand here with a faraway look on her face, thinking about Ridge and his kisses.

What she should do was march into that bank so she could prove she wasn’t the Amelia Hilden listed on that account. Should’ve changed my first name as well. She’d become “Patterson” after her mother had remarried Matt Patterson and he’d adopted her. Best decision of her life so far.

She crossed the street. No matter what, the staff at this bank, where she wasn’t even a customer, were going to tell her something.

The building looked ancient, with red-brick exterior walls and white columns either side of the front door.

It had been here since the town’s founding in the mid-twentieth century, which, in a place like Last Chance County, didn’t bode well.

The town had been started by a group of men who had served together in Vietnam and wanted their own kingdom back in the US.

A place they could rule, taking prominent positions in the local government, police department, fire department, and medical services.

Her father had been the last of that group to be stopped, thanks to the current police chief and his friends.

Good people who’d known the town should never have allowed evil to infuse it like that.

So they’d rooted it out.

The bank doors slid open in front of her, and she strode inside.

There were about ten people in the lobby, with customers lined up for the teller counter on the left where two staff members worked their way through the line of people.

To the right were three cubicles along the wall, blinds over the windows.

Spots to meet with a business account rep or a mortgage rep.

Amelia turned back to the door and spotted a security guard sitting at a small round table, drinking coffee from a paper cup. The rotund man had a full head of curly red hair and managed to bite the powdered donut without getting a speck of sugar on him, which was pretty impressive.

“Can I bother you?”

He set the donut on the plate. “Dunno, can you?” He gave her a toothy grin and shifted, revealing a tattoo on the inside of his forearm. A military unit.

“How long have you worked here?”

He brushed his hands off with a napkin. “Coupla years. Got out of the Corps just before that.”

Perfect. “I wonder if you can help me.” She didn’t know how to convince him to help her by lying, so she told him about the account in her name and how the police believed she’d paid someone to endanger firefighters.

His eyes narrowed on that.

Amelia said, “I’m a lieutenant with Eastside Firehouse, but my commanding officer at my previous department never put in the paperwork for my rank.”

He didn’t like that either.

“So now I’ve been bumped down in rank because of an oversight,” she said. “The idea that anyone would think I’d put firefighters in danger…” Amelia shook her head. “It’s insane. I’m being framed.”

“So what do you need from the bank?”

Amelia sighed. “I don’t want to ask for anything you can’t provide.”

Like a look at their surveillance.

“Maybe I could speak with a teller who has seen the account holder, or whoever set the account up. They might recognize her—and it would be helpful for them to confirm that it isn’t me.

” Sure, it was a long shot. But if she didn’t try, then she couldn’t say she’d done everything to fix this.

Amelia wasn’t going to just roll over and play dead, allowing the police to make all the accusations they wanted.

He scrunched up his face, rising to his feet. “Let’s see who’s free that you can talk to.”

“Thanks. I’m Amelia, by the way.”

“Daryl Merton. Good to meet you.” He went to a cubicle and looked around. “Cynthia, you got a sec for a customer? She’s a firefighter. Amelia.”

Over the cubicle divider, with its felt surface, she saw a woman pop up and look at her. The wide-eyed expression shuttered for a second. “Oh, uh.”

“You thought I was someone else?” Amelia asked. “Because that’s a great place to start.”

“Well, you said a firefighter, and your name is Amelia.”

“And that means something to you?”

The woman eased around Daryl and said, “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He wandered back toward his donut.

“What’s your name?” Amelia asked.

“Oh, I’m Cynthia.” She held out her hand for Amelia to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“How many firefighters do you know that are named Amelia?” She wanted to interrogate this woman but needed her to be forthcoming and not shut down, because Amelia wasn’t going to back off until she had the whole story.

“Of course, I can’t give out private information about our customers.”

“She’s probably from another county or some town close by. Because there aren’t any Amelias who are firefighters in Last Chance County.” Except her.

Cynthia frowned. “No, I’m sure this one is. She works out of…Eastside Firehouse.”

“I’d love to meet this woman. She sounds impressive.” Amelia, on the other hand, was terrible at this. She’d never have made it as an undercover agent. “How long has it been since she came in?”

“Only a few days, but it isn’t like you can stay here until she shows up.” Cynthia looked her up and down. “Are you some kind of stalker?”

Only when I have a point to make. “Of course not. I’m no threat to this woman.”

The police, on the other hand…

Amelia continued. “I just have one more question.”

Cynthia didn’t object out loud.

“If the police were to ask you to ID the person who holds the account with that woman’s name on it, would you be willing to make a statement confirming that person isn’t me?”

Cynthia frowned, but her eyes flared. “Why are the police involved?”

Now that she’d had a whiff of intrigue, she was interested. “It’s a lot of money, and it might have been used to target first responders. The cops aren’t sure who is responsible, so they could probably use your help.”

That puffed her up a little, because she’d be important to the investigation.

Deep down, most people wanted to help, and adding in the chance to be recognized hit on more than one need inside this woman.

Not that Amelia was a student of human nature, but being twisted around by a narcissistic man and finally breaking away had allowed her time to think over why she’d let herself fall for it.

Everything about Ridge was a giant green flag.

If there were any potential problems that she could see, she might be more comfortable with the whole thing. At least then she would know what was in store for her if she committed to him.

“There you are.”

Amelia had been about to thank the woman and leave, because she’d done as much as she could here without overstepping boundaries.

She turned to the source of the male voice.

“Elam?”

A couple of similarly dressed guys stood behind him in jeans and denim and boots. They’d spread out around the bank lobby as if they needed to stand guard. One of the men in line turned to look at them, instinct flaring so that he tensed and kept one eye on the man closest to him.

Elam walked right up to her. “Thought you were going to wait for me.” Her brother grasped her arm, just above her elbow. Hard.

Amelia stiffened.

“Well, you look like you have your hands full.” Cynthia looked overlong at Elam, those eyes flaring again.

As if her brother were remotely good-looking or a ticket to excitement.

He was a ticket to something, but it was more likely going to be heartbreak.

“I was just about to leave.” Amelia lifted her chin. “By myself.”

“We have an appointment.”

Elam’s friend over by the front door swung his arm back and clocked the security guard, still on his break, in the forehead. Daryl tumbled backward on the chair, tipping it over and landing on the floor behind it. Out cold.

Amelia gasped.

Cynthia stammered and started to back up.

Elam pulled a weapon from his hip, under his jacket, and swung it up to point at the bank employee. “Like I said, we have an appointment.”

The other men Elam had brought moved in. The customer in line spun around and started a fight, grappling for the man’s gun. Elam fired off a shot over his head.

The fighting duo froze.

“No one moves. No one tries anything…like hitting the emergency switch.” Elam swung his gun around and fired another shot over the teller’s head.

She screamed and backed up, holding up her hands.

“Don’t do this, Elam.” Amelia had to say it, and letting them all know his name meant they could identify him.

He ignored her, but that grip on her arm didn’t let up. Her fingers started to go numb. He scanned the room. “Everyone come sit in the center of the room.”

Two more men came in the front door, both carrying duffels.

Elam said, “Lock it down.” He waved his gun, and the customers and employees gathered in a group in the center of the room, by the island with stacks of deposit slips and brochures about savings accounts.

The men who’d come in fixed something to the front door that covered the handles, like a lockbox, wire arms that stretched to the corners. Once they were done with the front door, they continued around the room. One disappeared down a back hall—to secure the back exit?

“What are you doing?” Amelia’s mind only concluded one thing. “You can’t rob a bank!”

Elam said, “All we’re doing is making a withdrawal.”

“We?”

He turned to her, a sinister look in his eyes. “Amelia Hilden and her brother Elam Hilden are here to cash out their father’s account.”

Amelia gaped at him. He’d planned this entire scenario. “And if I refuse?”

She didn’t want that money. It was her whole reason for being here, proving she had nothing to do with this place.

Elam stared at her with cold eyes. “I’ll kill every innocent person in this room.”