customers’ money was protected by the government. It certainly wouldn’t matter that he, Samuel Robertson, would get the bank’s money back eventually. Panic was contagious and it wouldn’t take much to catch the fever.
He was startled by the phone call. No one should be calling the bank at this time of night. Gladys would have used his cell. Wondering if it was the examiners, Robertson picked up the phone.
“Hello?” he asked.
He heard nothing at the other end. No, that wasn’t quite right. He could just make out something… some kind of music? He pressed his ear to the receiver and thought he could make out the faint sound of a flute.
Robertson couldn’t say why, but the music was disturbing. It reminded him of something, but he couldn’t say what. He slammed the phone down, but jumped again a moment later when his cell phone rang. The display on his phone read, “Caller Unknown.”
Robertson didn’t answer it. Maybe he was cracking up or maybe the examiners had a bizarre sense of humor. It didn’t matter. He suddenly felt vulnerable here all by himself. He just wanted to go home. After all, he didn’t know how many nights he had left there. Soon—very soon—he could be spending his evenings in jail.
He moved quickly to arm the bank’s security system for the night, turn off the lights and lock the door. The phones in the bank started ringing once again, but Robertson ignored them. He was packing it in, literally and figuratively. He had made a decision. There was no way he could bluff his way out of this. Tomorrow, he would admit everything to the examiners. It was probably too late, but maybe he could get some clemency. At least they might help him stop the run on his bank.
He walked outside and locked the door behind him. Robertson had taken only a few steps to the car when he heard it—the sound of a horse running at full gallop. He didn’t wait to see what was coming. Already a jumble of nerves, Sam broke into a run to get to his car.
He never made it. A black horse with red eyes suddenly blocked his path, rearing back in front of him. Robertson fell back, dropping his keys on the ground. When he looked up, he screamed. The figure on the horse held a sword high above him.
Robertson didn’t waste time studying him. He scrambled up and began running back toward the bank. Only when he got to the door did he realize he no longer held the keys in his hand.
“You’ve been a very bad boy,” a voice said.
He turned around slowly to face the horse and its rider.
“Please,” Robertson said and his voice came out like a whimper.
The rider slid off the horse and began walking toward him.
“No mercy for the wicked,” the voice said.
Robertson watched in horror as the thing walked toward him, never wavering. With sword in hand, it cocked back its arm and then there was a motion so quick he could scarcely detect it.
It was the last thing Sam Robertson ever saw.
*****
Kate woke to a strange buzzing sound and momentarily wondered if some large, mutated insect was by her bed. It took a moment for her to realize it was her phone vibrating on the bedside table.
She looked at the clock, wondering how badly their exhaustion from the night before had made them oversleep. But it was only 6:30 a.m. She grabbed the phone and answered it.
“Kate Tassel,” she said.
“Kate, meet me at the office as soon as you can,” Tim said on the other end.
“Is there a problem?” she asked.
“More like an opportunity,” he said. “I’ve had a tip from a trusted source. The CEO of Leesburg National Bank has just been found murdered.”
“Jesus,” she said.
“I’m pretty sure he wasn’t involved.”
Kate didn’t laugh.
“Tell Quinn to get to the bank as soon as possible,” Tim said. “I need you here for some research.”
“Do you have a sense of who might have done it?” Kate asked.
“Let’s just say I don’t think the CEO was on the up-and-up,” Tim
He was startled by the phone call. No one should be calling the bank at this time of night. Gladys would have used his cell. Wondering if it was the examiners, Robertson picked up the phone.
“Hello?” he asked.
He heard nothing at the other end. No, that wasn’t quite right. He could just make out something… some kind of music? He pressed his ear to the receiver and thought he could make out the faint sound of a flute.
Robertson couldn’t say why, but the music was disturbing. It reminded him of something, but he couldn’t say what. He slammed the phone down, but jumped again a moment later when his cell phone rang. The display on his phone read, “Caller Unknown.”
Robertson didn’t answer it. Maybe he was cracking up or maybe the examiners had a bizarre sense of humor. It didn’t matter. He suddenly felt vulnerable here all by himself. He just wanted to go home. After all, he didn’t know how many nights he had left there. Soon—very soon—he could be spending his evenings in jail.
He moved quickly to arm the bank’s security system for the night, turn off the lights and lock the door. The phones in the bank started ringing once again, but Robertson ignored them. He was packing it in, literally and figuratively. He had made a decision. There was no way he could bluff his way out of this. Tomorrow, he would admit everything to the examiners. It was probably too late, but maybe he could get some clemency. At least they might help him stop the run on his bank.
He walked outside and locked the door behind him. Robertson had taken only a few steps to the car when he heard it—the sound of a horse running at full gallop. He didn’t wait to see what was coming. Already a jumble of nerves, Sam broke into a run to get to his car.
He never made it. A black horse with red eyes suddenly blocked his path, rearing back in front of him. Robertson fell back, dropping his keys on the ground. When he looked up, he screamed. The figure on the horse held a sword high above him.
Robertson didn’t waste time studying him. He scrambled up and began running back toward the bank. Only when he got to the door did he realize he no longer held the keys in his hand.
“You’ve been a very bad boy,” a voice said.
He turned around slowly to face the horse and its rider.
“Please,” Robertson said and his voice came out like a whimper.
The rider slid off the horse and began walking toward him.
“No mercy for the wicked,” the voice said.
Robertson watched in horror as the thing walked toward him, never wavering. With sword in hand, it cocked back its arm and then there was a motion so quick he could scarcely detect it.
It was the last thing Sam Robertson ever saw.
*****
Kate woke to a strange buzzing sound and momentarily wondered if some large, mutated insect was by her bed. It took a moment for her to realize it was her phone vibrating on the bedside table.
She looked at the clock, wondering how badly their exhaustion from the night before had made them oversleep. But it was only 6:30 a.m. She grabbed the phone and answered it.
“Kate Tassel,” she said.
“Kate, meet me at the office as soon as you can,” Tim said on the other end.
“Is there a problem?” she asked.
“More like an opportunity,” he said. “I’ve had a tip from a trusted source. The CEO of Leesburg National Bank has just been found murdered.”
“Jesus,” she said.
“I’m pretty sure he wasn’t involved.”
Kate didn’t laugh.
“Tell Quinn to get to the bank as soon as possible,” Tim said. “I need you here for some research.”
“Do you have a sense of who might have done it?” Kate asked.
“Let’s just say I don’t think the CEO was on the up-and-up,” Tim
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