Chapter 7: Borrowing Information
Bursting through the doors, I look around, trying to find the bank robber.
“Where is he,” I say, turning all around. “Where is that guy!”
Taking a step but stopping when I feel something beneath my foot, I step back and look at it.
Bending down to pick up what looks like a bullet casting, I notice more scatter around. Following the trail, I then see a shot-up backpack, with stacks of destroyed bills inside of it. About to pick it up, I stop and reach for the camera in my pocket. Taking a bunch of different pictures, I stop again when I see the back of Micheal’s head stir.
“Micheal,” I scream, running over to him. Banging on the window, Micheal jumps up, before looking at me. Unlocking the door, I jump right in! “Micheal! Are you okay! Did you see what happened!”
“You banged on my car and woke me up from a nap,” Micheal replies, yawning and stretching. “How was the bank?”
“Are you serious? Are you serious! You slept right through that! How heavy a sleeper are you!”
“I don’t know. Maybe, like a six on a scale of one through ten. Why? What did I miss? What happened?”
“A bank robbery! An actual bank robbery happened and I was there!”
“A bank robbery! Oh my god, are you okay! Why are you asking if I’m okay!”
“I’m fine! Don’t worry! I am fine! Right now, I’m wondering where the guy went! And why did he leave all the money behind?”
“Wait he did what?”
Turning around in the car seat, I point to the shot-up backpack.
“Now that’s odd,” Micheal says. “Isn’t the whole thing with bank robbers not leaving the cash behind?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, thinking it over. Hearing some police sirens, I tap Micheal. “Listen, I’m going to stay here for a while. You know, give a report, maybe help some of the people calm down. If you want to go, you can. I don’t know how long I’ll be here and I can just find another ride.”
“Or better yet,” Micheal adds, putting up a finger. “I can stay here until you’re done or at the very least, you can call me. Either way man, I am not leaving you here.”
“It’s fine. It’s Saturday and I don’t want to miss out on shooting a bunch of zombies. I’ll see you later.”
Getting out of the car, I tap it one final time before running back to the bank.
“Wow,” I say, turning on my car and driving away. “My acting is way better than I thought. Hmm, I should try and be in movies!”
Turning around to make sure Brian is okay when I leave, I step on the gas and head for the police department.
Micheal Peterson (10 Minutes Later):
“Hopefully I can find something useful here,” I say, stepping into the massive building. “That was Run-and-Gun’s fourth bank robberies. They have to have something on him.”
Seeing the busy crowd of police officers as they run around, handing each other important folders, talking about cases, and trying to figure out what exactly happened, I wave back at a few of them when they see me.
“Little Micheal,” Officer Jerry screams, the whole floor turning to see me.
‘Little Mikey’ a few of them yell while a few others shout ‘Little Micheal’.
“Hi everyone,” I say, smiling and waving back at them. “Long time no see.”
Laughing at what I said, considering the last time I was here was only a week ago, I nod my head again. Walking through the front counter and into the bullpen, I shake Officer Jerry’s hand.
“You sure have grown,” Officer Jerry says, smiling and shaking my hand back. “Despite what you are wearing right now.”
Looking down at my t-shirt, a picture of Captain American throwing his shield, I look back up.
“Anyway,” Officer Jerry went on, “What are you doing here? Are you here to see your dad?”
“Yeah,” I say, pulling back my hand to rub the back of my head. “Uhh, I have something important to tell him.”
“Uuhhh,” I start, trying to think of a way I can tell Officer Jerry I was at a bank robbery without him freaking out. I prefer to deal with one freakout a day and I think telling my dad will already be more than I can handle. “Oh, nothing much.”
Walking away before I would say something stupid, I look around before finding my dad at his desk.
“Dad,” I scream, waving my hand and grabbing his attention.
“Micheal,” my dad says, getting up from his chair to greet me. “Hi, son. How are you doing? What are you doing here?”
“I actually have something interesting to tell you. Do you remember earlier this morning, when you mentioned that bank robber? What was the newspaper calling him? Run-and-Gun? Well, I may or may not have just run into him.”
“What,” my dad screams, his voice cutting off all the chatters and the ringing phones on the floor. “Oh my god! Micheal, are you okay! What happened?”
“Nothing,” I start, waving my hands. “Nothing. Nothing too bad. I was in my car sleeping, dreaming about something. Listen, dad, are you working the case?”
“Uhh, no Micheal. That’s Detective Daniel. Micheal, where were you? Where was the bank that was robbed?”
“I don’t know. Brian chooses the bank. I was just the driver. On Lincoln Drive, I think.”
“Lincoln Drive,” my dad repeats, turning to his desk and grabbing a notepad. Writing something down, he looks back at me.
“Detective Daniel isn’t here at the moment,” my dad starts, “But this sounds important. Here, I’m going to start taking your statement, and then I’m going to take you home.”
“Dad, I was sleeping in my car. I did not see anything. I did not hear anything. I wasn’t even in the bank when I was robbed. I was 20 feet away from the entrance with my eyes close. Besides, I drove here and my car is in front. Dad, I am fine. I am not in shock or anything. I am just here to give you a head-up in case something happens and you learn I was there with Brian.”
“Brian was there too!”
“Yes, but don’t worry. He’s fine. Dad, I’m going now okay. Bye.”
Waving at him, I turn and walk away. Heading for the entrance, I stop when I see my dad talking into the radio on his shoulder. The talk begins short, he rips the piece of paper from his notebook and walks away. Quietly and cautiously following after him, I watch as my dad walks up to Daniel’s desk and drops off the paper. Walking away, I leap over to the desk and pull out my phone.
“Gotten move fast,” I repeat to myself, “Gotten move fast! Gotta move fast!”
Digging through the desk, I find what I am looking for; a file on Run-and-Gun. Opening and spreading it out, I take dozens of pictures, careful to make sure everything is apart and nothing is covered up. Snapping one final image, I stop when I hear footsteps behind me.
“Okay,” my mind says, “Time to go!”
Moving fast, I place everything back in the folder and toss it on the desk. About to run away, I stop when I see Detective Daniel turning a corner! Thinking fast, I jump to the ground and roll underneath the desk!
“Okay,” I say, grabbing my leg and pulling it further in. “This was a lot easier when I was six.”
“This is not going to work,” my mind interrupts. “You know this isn’t going to work, right?”
“Got a better plan,” I ask, my leg feeling very uncomfortable.
“Knock the chair into him and then run for your life,” my mind answers.
“I am not hitting Detective Daniel with a chair,” I say. “He’s a friend of my dad and a really decent guy. Even though he always hogs the chocolate donuts.”
Detective Daniel walks up to his desk, straightening his suit and tie, he grabs the back of his seat and starts to pull it out.
“Oh, I am going to regret this,” I say to myself, putting my hand on the chair and preparing to slam it into Detective Daniel. Moving my arm back, I slam it forward but stop!
Placing down his chocolate donut, Detective Daniel stops and grabs the note my dad wrote. Reading it over, he turns and runs away. While he runs away, I push the chair away and start running away myself.
“Yeah! I didn’t have to hit him with the chair!”