Detective Daniel Morley wrote the date on his deposit slip, then double-checked it against the large calendar the bank had posted on one of the columns near the customer service desk among the green pine trim and the red-and-white candy cane decorations. December 14. It had been one year since Bethany Walker had disappeared from his life. An entire year of searching and coming up empty. He was a detective—one of the best in the business, but he’d utterly failed to find her, despite his herculean efforts. She had been his fiancée but now, instead of celebrating their wedding anniversary, he was solemnly remembering the last time he’d seen her and the hurtful words he’d spoken during their argument right before she’d driven away. He should have gone after her. Now, he didn’t know if he’d ever even see her again, and the calendar before him was just one more reminder of how long she had been missing from his life.
People didn’t just disappear, and yet, Bethany seemed to have done just that. Her apartment lease had been paid in advance, but despite several evenings of surveillance, he had not seen a single person enter or leave. He’d even used his law enforcement credentials to complete a welfare check. Daniel and the landlord walked through the rooms together, but there was no sign of Bethany, or any clues as to her whereabouts. Her refrigerator was bare, and there were only a few staples left in the pantry. It was obvious that she wasn’t living there. But then where was she staying? And if she’d moved and left the Chattanooga area completely, why had she kept the lease? It was a mystery.
“Excuse me, can I please have one of those?” An older lady smiled at him as her voice brought him out of his reverie. She motioned toward the stack of deposit slips sitting in front of him, and he smiled back at her as he pushed them in her direction so they were within her reach.
“Of course. Here you go.”
The bullets from a semi-automatic machine gun slammed into the ceiling, quickly covering Daniel with dust and debris from the tiles overhead as the noise shattered the peaceful Friday morning. He instinctively crouched, taking the older woman with him and pushing her under the desk for safety. He pulled out his service 9 mm pistol, his eyes darting around the room as he assessed the situation.
“Everyone get down on the floor!” The voice was masculine and accentuated by more gunfire. Several of the customers screamed, and the fear in the room was palpable and made the air feel heavy and thick. A man in a black hoodie and jeans jumped up on the counter and started waving his rifle around. He let loose with another stream of bullets into the ceiling.
“Quiet, now! The next person who makes a noise dies!” he yelled.
The room was instantly silent, and all eyes were on the robber, awaiting his next command. The man’s face was covered by a mask that distorted his features, and he paced back and forth like a caged tiger. The mask gave away the fact that he was Caucasian and little else, and there was a grotesque smile on it that made his expression seem malevolent and evil.
The robber swung his gun toward a woman teller in a gray suit who already had tears streaming down her cheeks. She was trembling and seemed almost frozen in place.
