The Town: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

course, intimidation is a bank bandit’s stock-in-trade. What I can tell you is, they have their money, they think they have gotten away, and I can assure you they want no more involvement in this investigation. No way they would risk exposing themselves now.”
    “I… all right.”
    He had her take him slowly from the bank into the getaway vehicle. “You’re sure it was a van?”
    “Yes. That van-sound of the doors. The bouncing as it drove.”
    “Do you remember seeing a van outside when you arrived at work this morning?”
    She winced, shaking her head. “I don’t know. A white one, maybe?”
    She took him through the drive. “You couldn’t see anything out of the blindfold? Not even at the very bottom?”
    “Sometimes a narrow strip of light. My lap against the seat. The seat was white, or cream.”
    “Any sensation of light passing? Windows in the back where you were?”
    “I… no. I can’t say. I don’t remember.”
    “It was a passenger van.”
    “I guess. Yes.”
    “You’re not certain.”
    “I don’t know what a ‘passenger van’ is. If that’s a minivan, then, yes, I’m certain. We went skiing up in Maine last winter—myself, some friends—and I rented the van. It was a Villager, I remember, because that’s a strange name for a car, and we called ourselves the Villager People. I don’t know if this was that, but it was like that.”
    “Okay, good. Like that how?”
    “Two separate seats up front. The middle bench I was in. Another bench behind.” She winced again. “I’m bringing too much to it, maybe. At least, this is how I see it in my mind.”
    “That’s fine.” He wanted to encourage her without flattering her, keeping her account honest. “Where were you sitting?”
    “The middle bench. Yes, the middle.”
    “How many sat there with you?”
    “Just one.”
    “To your… ?”
    “My right.”
    “On the door side. You were against the wall. And you don’t think there were any windows there. How many in front?”
    “Two men in front.”
    “Anyone behind?”
    “Yes.”
    “Two men in front, one next to you, and one behind.”
    “I think… yes.”
    “And they didn’t have their masks on in the van.”
    “But I don’t know how I know that for sure. Maybe I don’t know that.”
    Frawley chided himself for focusing on the van. The van was going to turn up torched. “How did they communicate? Did they speak much?”
    “Very little. ‘Right.’ ‘Left.’ ‘No.’ ‘Yes.’ Like that.” She looked up at him. “That’s how I know they didn’t have their masks on.”
    “By their voices.”
    “They were so
beastly
in the bank, with them on. So distorted and… not even human. Like monsters. Can I… should I talk about the masks?”
    “Go ahead.”
    “They were all the same. Like Jason, like
Friday the 13th
.”
    “You mean hockey masks.”
    “Yes, but—with these scars drawn all over them. Black stitches.”
    “Stitches?” said Frawley.
    “Like hash marks. Sutures.” There was fear in her distant gaze. “Why do that? Why
scars
?”
    Frawley shook his head. It was a strange detail and his investigation welcomed strange details. “So they didn’t speak much in the van.”
    She was reluctant to return there. “No.”
    “Did they seem to know where they were going?”
    “Maybe, yes.”
    “Did they tell you where you were going?”
    “No.”
    “Did they tell you you were going to be released?”
    “No.”
    “Did you think you were going to be released?”
    “I…” She stared into the middle distance, almost in a trance. “No.”
    “Did the van make stops?”
    “It did.”
    “What for?”
    “Traffic, I guess.”
    “Okay. No doors opened, no one in or out?”
    “No.”
    “And you never tried to escape?”
    A blink. “No.”
    “Were you ever on a highway?”
    “Yes. For a while.”
    “Were you wearing a seat belt?”
    She touched her lap, aiding her memory. “Yes.” Then, green eyes focusing on him: “I didn’t try to escape