Then Franklin screamed in a highpitched soprano shriek that
reverberated through the eerie silence.
Like the others, she was too stunned to move. A wave of panic washed
through her, constricting every muscle. She desperately tried to grasp
control of her thoughts. Don't panic . . . don't panic . . . They
can't shoot us . . . They wouldn't dare shoot us. . . The noise of
gunfire. . . They want money, that's all . . . If everyone
cooperates, they won't hurt us. . . .
Her logic didn't help calm her racing heartbeat. They would take her
four hundred dollars. And that was unacceptable. She couldn't let
them have the money . . . wouldn't. But how could she stop them? She
took the wad of bills out of her purse and frantically searched for a
place to hide it. Think . . . think. . . . She leaned to the side
and looked up at Franklin. He was staring at the robbers, but he must
have felt her watching him for he tilted his head downward ever so
slightly. It dawned on her then that the gunmen didn't know she was
there. She hesitated for the barest of seconds, her gaze intent on
Franklin's pale face, and then silently squeezed herself into the
kneehole of the ancient desk. Quickly unbuttoning her blouse, she
shoved the money under her chemise and flattened her hands against her
chest.
Oh, God, oh, God . . . One of them was walking toward the desk. She
could hear his footsteps getting closer and closer. Her petticoats!
They were spread out like a white flag of surrender. She frantically
grabbed them and shoved them under her knees. Her heart pounded like a
drum now, and she was terrified that all of them could hear the
noise.
If they didn't spot her, they would leave her money alone.
A blur of snakeskin boots, spurs rattling, passed within inches. The
smell of peppermint trailed behind. The scent shocked herţchildren
smelled like peppermint, not criminals. Don't let him see me, she
prayed. Please, God, don't let him see me. She wanted to squeeze her
eyes shut and disappear. She heard the shades being pulled down,
sucking out the sunlight, and she was suddenly assaulted with the
claustrophobic feeling that she was in a casket and the man was pushing
the lid down on top of her.
Bare seconds had passed since they'd entered the bank. It would be
over soon, she told herself. Soon. They wanted only the money,
nothing more, and they would surely hurry to get out as quickly as
possible. Yes, of course they would. With every second that they
lingered, they increased the odds of being captured.
Could they see her through the cracks in the desk? The possibility was
too frightening. There was a half-inch split in the seam of the wood
all the way down the center panel, and she slowly shifted her position
until her knees were rubbing against the drawer above her head. The
air was thick, heavy. It made her want to gag. She took a shallow
breath through her mouth and tilted her head to the side so she could
see through the slit.
Across the room the three gray-faced customers stood motionless, their