It's Complicated

Chapter 1: Kacey Eton

4 years later…

“Eyes on the road, Phil,” I say to the driver, Phil, as we drive down the road in the black SUV. I’m changing into my black outfit in the back seat of the car, and I caught the seventeen-year-old’s hazel eyes glance back at me. I keep my eyes trained on his short, red-haired head, watching for any unnecessary movement. We both know he won’t see anything, but it’s kind-of a joke between us. I crack a smile when I see the sides of his lips turn up into a smile through the rear view mirror.

I tighten the straps on the sheaths and roll my sleeves down, making the knives virtually invisible. After tying my shoes extra tight, I pull the mask over my head, feeling all along the bottom of the fabric that there are no stray hairs sticking out. I put two magnetic strips into my pocket and handcuffs in the other.

“Ten seconds,” he says. I slide into the seat next to the door, my hand on the door handle. When he says, “Go,” I jump out of the car as it is barreling down the road. When my feet hit the ground, I bend my knees and roll in the grass. I roll onto my feet and watch as the car speeds down the road and disappears into the darkness. I dash behind the row of hedges about twenty feet from the road and crouch down out of sight.

As I wipe the grass from my knees, I realize that my pant legs are wet, along with my back. Glancing down at the grass, I see it glisten with water from a recent rain. Letting out a sigh, I wipe the rest of the grass off of me.

I turn and face the small bank. It’s nothing special. It stands one story tall with a fresh coat of white paint, and has newly planted shrubs surrounding the perimeter. The glass double doors in the front show that all of the lights are off.

I feel a bit of my short hair brush my face, so I quickly tuck it back under the mask. I walk up to the white building and quickly circle around, trying to find an entrance point. I stop in front of a one-foot tall window that is about ten feet off of the ground. Just out of my reach. Looking around for something to help me get in, I see an old tree, probably left by the construction workers, that could help me get on top of the roof, and then I could come back around to the window and slip in. Easy.

I dash over to the tree and quickly make my way up, being careful to stay quiet. I step carefully over the branches, being sure to not step on a thin branch. As I quietly jump from the tree to the roof, I think about my plan of action. The robber will probably have a knife or gun for protection, but will probably be an amateur, considering he or she wasn’t smart enough to make sure no one was at the bank. This should be easy enough.

I stop on top of the window and lean over the edge, peeking in. It is a small office that only has a desk with a computer on it and two chairs set up facing the desk. It is closed off from the rest of the bank by a glass wall. There is no one in the room, but I see a light on in one of the back rooms on the other side of the bank. I flip over the side of the roof and land with my feet on the edge of the window sill. With a precise flick of my wrist, I release the knife in my right sleeve and slide it along the bottom of the window to unlock it. After replacing the knife back into the sheath, I get the two magnetic strips out of my pocket and slide them in the sides of the window where the magnetic sensors would be. I pop open the window, no alarms going off, and slip in, unseen, unheard. I crouch behind the desk.

I watch over the top of the desk for the robber, but something obstructs my view. I focus on it and see that it is a wooden picture frame. In the picture are a man and woman, maybe in their twenties, kneeling down under a wooden gazebo. Standing in front of them is a little girl in a flower print dress, maybe four or five. All of them have smiles on their faces, and I notice that the man and woman are holding hands.