Visitations by Jonas Saul

out through his teeth.
     
    Rebecca gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth.
     
    He lifted his head off his pillow and made to stand, but stopped halfway. The pain was evident on his face.
     
    “I was trying to do my banking,” he continued. “I’m an innocent bystander. I was shot in the leg. Although,” he looked around, and comfortable that no one could hear him, continued. “You are the only person who could fuck with my story. So now, we have a problem. What are you going to do? What am I going to do?”
     
    He smiled, even though Rebecca could see the pain caused him great discomfort.
     
    Mark looked up at Rebecca and then back at the wounded bank robber.
     
    “She’s going to tell the police what she saw and you will spend a considerable time in prison thinking about…”
     
    Rebecca cut him off. “Mark, no. I think we’re in a unique position to help this man. By doing so, we can help each other.”
     
    He turned so fast to look at her, he grunted. “Shit, that hurt. What are you talking about?”
     
    “Trust me,” Rebecca said, not taking her eyes off the robber.
     
    He smiled from his bed and leaned his head back down, never taking his eyes off her. “I’m happy you can see things my way.”
     
    “What are you doing?” Mark asked.
     
    She let go of her husband and started around his bed. For a brief second she vanished past the curtain and appeared again on the bank robber’s side.
     
    “Tell us what to do. We don’t want trouble.”
     
    “That’s what I was banking on. Ha, get it?” He paused to look between them. His voice lowered, he said, “Forget it. Look, I won’t threaten to kill you, or say that I can use your chart to get your name and find you and then kill you. I won’t go into how easy it would be to silence this little problem I now find myself having. No, I won’t do that. I want to be polite. I would like to ask that you give your word that you won’t say or do anything to harm me, and I won’t harm you. We go our separate ways. All’s good that ends good.”
     
    “It’s ‘well’.”
     
    “What?”
     
    “Never mind. We agree.”
     
    A doctor pushed by her with a man in a security uniform, as they entered the bank robber’s small area.
     
    “This man wasn’t allowing me to stitch his leg,” the doctor said. “He needs to be restrained, or I will have to sedate him.” The doctor stopped and looked at the patient. “I don’t want to have someone forcibly hold you down after what you’ve been through, and the police asked me not to sedate you as they want a statement when I’m done. So, will you allow me to finish?”
     
    The bank robber looked from the security guard to Rebecca and then to the doctor. He nodded. “Go ahead. Get it done, so I can give my statement and go home.”
     
    Rebecca stepped back and nodded at him, moving her fingers across her lips in a “ mum’s the word” gesture.
     
    Then she disappeared around the corner.
     
    On the first floor, she found two police officers having coffee.
     
    “Are you two waiting for the man from the bank robbery?”
     
    The one with the seventies mustache looked up at her. “Why would that matter to you?”
     
    “I was there.”
     
    He looked at his partner and then back up to Rebecca. “You were there?” His voice was laced with suspicion.
     
    “Yes. I saw that woman shot in the head by the man lying in the bed upstairs with a bullet wound to the leg.”
     
    The cop looked her up and down. He set his coffee on the table and stood up, making Rebecca stand back a step. His partner stood up too, discarding his coffee also.
     
    “Is that right? What else can you tell us?”
     
    The cop was on the defensive. She could tell by his body language. He was ready to pounce and she had no idea why.
     
    “I was waiting in line and it was taking too long,” she started, knowing she couldn’t add anything remotely close to the truth. There was no way they’d believe her. “I