Leftovers by Chloe Kendrick Page B

asked.
    I realized immediately what he was getting at. My aunt had bought the food truck at a police auction for the exact same amount. I tried to convince myself that this was all a huge coincidence, but it seemed like a losing argument. The amount was beyond suspicious. Yet I could think of no explanation why a stranger would put that amount in my account. Did they want me to buy another truck? Was this a payback for my aunt?
    The teller looked from one of us to the other several times, as if she were watching a ping-pong match. She had finished the latest deposit and was sliding another deposit slip and account balance under the plastic divider. “Is there a problem?” she asked.
    I started to approach the window to explain when the plate-glass window in front of us exploded. Land tugged my sleeve hard, pulling me down to the floor. I landed with a thud that knocked the wind out of me.
    The sound of gunfire against the paneled walls and plastic of the dividers pierced the room. The rounds were loud, and the sounds of split wood and shattering glass and plastic were louder still. It hurt my ears as it continued.
    Land took a gun from his waistband and leaned up to fire back. I counted seven rounds before he brought his hand down. He was wounded. It looked like a bullet had grazed the thumb of his right hand. I started to make a fuss, but Land merely switched the gun to the other hand and began firing again. Nice to be ambidextrous during a shoot-out.
    The shots now came mainly from his gun. Recovering slightly, I dialed 911 and shouted to the operator what was happening. I couldn’t hear her response, so I clicked off and turned to look at Land again. He had torn part of his t-shirt off and had it wrapped around his bleeding thumb. He’s stopped firing his gun, and the bank was eerily silent now. My hearing slowly began to return, and I could hear the soft whimpers of the teller behind the counter.
    “Is everyone alright?” Land shouted. “Anyone need help?”
    A voice I didn’t recognize replied, “No injuries back here. Are you okay?”
    Land assured the tellers that we were fine. Given the level of intensity, I really hadn’t taken the time to determine my own health. I ran my hands over my legs and torso, looking for blood or cuts. Everything appeared to still be intact, although shards of glass were stuck to me in various places. I tugged a few of them out and left the rest for the EMTs.
    Land looked at me. He brushed some glass from my hair and looked into my eyes. “What did that lady have to say about her sister?” he asked.
    Though there had been multiple women talking about sisters lately, I knew he was talking about the most recent one. “Nothing. She shared next to nothing with me.” I recounted the exact conversation to him.
    He took a deep breath. “I’m not sure if the gunfire is related to her or not. The deposit to the bank was made before she came to see you. So either she is another matter altogether, or she was sent to throw you off the story.”
    “Then why the money?” I asked. My brain was frozen with fear. I couldn’t think of anything but how close I’d come to death. I couldn’t die. I didn’t even have my student loans paid off yet. And I was damned if Detective Jax Danvers would be my last kiss before I departed this earth.
    “The money was a lure. I’m betting that they knew you would stand here and dispute the deposit with the bank. That would give them sufficient time to drive by and shoot you, and you’d be a standing target, which is much easier to hit than someone who is moving. I know you come to the same branch every day, so your routine would be easy to determine. It wouldn’t be much hardship to learn it and find a place to ambush you.” Land winced. I wondered if his thumb hurt that bad or if he’d been hit elsewhere.
    “Are you okay?” I asked, realizing that I’d only been thinking of my own fate to this point. “I know about the thumb, but I mean,