A Crooked Waitress

Chapter 58

After talking to the manager and his sole customer, Alex and Jackson came out of the bank.

The young teller lay in a body bag on a stretcher, her blonde hair framing her pale face. A stray bullet from the security guard's rifle had ricocheted and landed in her chest. A paramedic zipped up the bag.

Yellow ribbons and a few cops were keeping the reporters and bystanders from coming closer to the scene.

"Detective, is this related to other violent crimes in recent days?" A journalist shouted.

"What's up with all the shootouts? Why can't you control criminal activities?" Another one yelled.

The injured guard was laying down on a gurney, waiting to go to the hospital.

Alex was pissed off. "What the hell is wrong with that trigger-happy jackass? The manager said Jack was leaving the bank, then this jerk starts shooting."

"Trying to prove he's still got it?" Jackson said and threw an ominous look toward the man.

"But all he got was a couple of bullets and a broken jaw." Alex walked toward the gurney.

"What are you doing?" Jackson said.

Alex grabbed the guard from his healthy arm. "You god damn cowboy. Why couldn't you let him just leave the bank? You killed that poor girl!"

The security tried to jerk his arm free but couldn't. "Let go of me."

"You did this." Alex pointed at the body bag," You killed her."

"Go to hell, man. I'm a hero. I stood up to him and almost got him. He fled because of me."

"You're a damn loser. He and his little pistol defeated you and your AR15. And you were like what? Five feet apart?"

"I had him. I had him.... but... but the gun jammed!" the guard shouted.

"He shot you, disarmed you, and broke your jaw."

"I had him!"

Jackson pulled Alex away. A camera flash frenzy was going on and for staying out in the cold, the media had received their reward.

"Calm down. That guy will get in serious trouble over the death of the teller." Jackson said.

"No, he won't. He was resisting an armed felon trying to rob the place. Nothing happens to him."

They stood by the bank's entrance.

"These things happen. Why do you care so much?"

Alex sat on a stone bench on the edge of the sidewalk. "I'm just tired. We're always not a step but a mile behind these people. They keep shooting up places and killing each other or innocent civilians. And we can't do anything about it."

From the police perimeter, a reporter shouted." Detective, is it true that you knew this criminal had an account here, but you failed to protect the bank?"

"Get lost," Alex said.

The journalists giggled, and more cameras flashed.

"Go home. Sleep." Jackson patted him on the shoulder.

"That's actually not a very bad idea."

***

Two pieces of cold pizza and half a six-pack was waiting for him in the fridge. But he didn't feel hungry, dropped on the bed, and stared at the ceiling in the dark.