Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

M ary Cahill was running late for work. Again. She barely had time to pull a brush through her hair as she grabbed her keys and headed out the door to go to work. She was a tour guide for the American Museum of Natural History and loved her job. Of course, most of the people in her life thought her job was boring.

Her friends hated to hear her talk about the exhibits, her parents thought she should be doing something more with her life and her non-existent boyfriend was just that, non-existent. She hadn't had a date in much longer than she cared to recall, and her last actual boyfriend had left her right after their high school graduation because he wanted to pursue college girls and didn't want to be tied down.

Mary was okay with that, she hadn't really been that into him. She'd been more interested in taking classes at the junior college and pursuing her interests in History, much to her parent's dismay. According to them, she'd never find a job with a degree in History. They were wrong, of course. There were plenty of jobs she could get with a History degree, if she ever managed to get enough money to apply to NYU, but at 22, living in a two-bedroom rental apartment in Brooklyn with three roommates, saving money was a bit difficult. Still she was determined to do it.

She made it to work with just a few minutes to spare. Thankfully, the trains had been on time and they weren't too crowded. Just as she was putting her purse away in her locker, her phone dinged.

Mary pulled up the text to see a message from her bank. A large transaction had just gone through, one that nearly drained her account. One that she hadn't made. "No, oh, no, no, no…" she muttered. "This can't be happening!"

"What's up?" Clare, one of her co-workers asked.

"Somebody just used my bankcard and practically took all my money!"

"Damn, what are you going to do?"

"I'll try calling, can you cover for me for a few minutes?"

"Sure, just don't be too long."

Mary nodded and dialed the bank.

"First Bank and Trust, how may I help you?"

"Hi, yes, my name is Mary Cahill and I just got a message saying someone has used my card without my permission, what do I need to do?"

"I see. May I have your account number?"

Mary gave her the information. "Is there anything I can do? I didn't authorize this."

"Yes, I can see we've flagged the account for possible fraud. You'll need to come into the bank and verify your identity and that you remain in possession of your bankcard. From there we can start the refund process, since you do have fraud protection."

"Um, I'm at work, can I come on my lunch break?"

"That will be fine, as long as you arrive before the end of business today."

"Thank you." Mary felt a wave of relief take over her. "I will be there this afternoon."

"We'll see you then."

Mary hurried out to the floor and let Clare know that she was there and together they began to gather groups to show around the museum. At one, she clocked out for lunch, grabbed her purse, and walked the three blocks to the bank. She hurried inside and met with the assistant bank manager.

"We'll get that all taken care of, Ms. Cahill. Your funds will be returned to your account within the next twenty-four hours and if any of your automated payments go through, we'll make sure they are covered without the fee."

"Thank you so mu—" Mary started as a loud commotion started in the lobby behind her. She turned around to see three men in ski-masks with guns screaming at the customers in line and at the tellers.

"Get the fuck on the floor! Now!" one of them yelled.

Everyone dropped.

Mary's eyes widened and she looked at the woman across from her. "What do we do?" she asked softly.

"I pressed the call button for the police. We sit tight unless they come in here." Her voice shook with nerves and her eyes never left the glass as she stared out into the lobby.

Mary nodded and tried to make herself small in her chair. She prayed that the robbers wouldn't see them, but apparently she wasn't that lucky because the door flew open a moment later.

"Got a couple bitches in here!"

"What the fuck! Get them out here, now before I start killing people!" the one who appeared to be in charge ranted.

A few of the people on the floor were crying, and there was a collective gasp at his words.

Mary and the assistant manager quickly moved out of the room and to the lobby where the gunman pushed them down. Mary fell to her knees and they throbbed as she laid there. Within seconds the sounds of sirens rendered the air.

"Who the fuck called the cops?" the gunman who pushed Mary and the assistant manager down asked. "It was you two bitches, wasn't it!"

Mary cowered down on the floor, hiding her head.

"Are those bags filled yet?" the one in charge demanded.

She couldn't see who he was talking to though, so Mary kept quiet.

"We need to go, now!"

"This is the NYPD! We have you surrounded!"

"Fuck!" The third gunman stomped around the floor. "Now what?"

"We've got hostages, they'll let us go, or we'll start shooting," the one in charge said, calmly.

"You didn't say anything about shooting people for real, Slick!" the one who'd pushed her down exclaimed.

"Shut your mouth, Dalton, don't tell them who we are! Idiot!" Slick, the one in charge said.

"You shut your mouth! You just did the same!" Dalton complained.

"Both of you, shut your yaps! Grab her, we're getting out of here," the third gunman said as he grabbed the duffle bags.

Suddenly, Mary was yanked to her feet. "What? No! What are you doing? Let me go!"

"Bitch, it's your damn fault the cops arrived too soon, so you'll get us out of this!"

"But I didn't!" Mary sputtered as Slick dragged her toward the door.

As they passed through the doorway, Slick yelled, "We have hostages! Let us go, or we kill them all!"

Mary's heart beat erratically in her chest. Her entire life, what little of it there was, passed before her eyes. She'd hardly done anything, seen anything. She couldn't die. Not yet. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion from that moment on. Sound was nothing but an echoing wave in her head, like she was listening to a couple of conch shells pressed up to her ears.

Something shoved her hard and then there was an explosive pain in her chest and she was falling… the world turning black as the cement sidewalk rushed toward her face.

From behind her eyelids Mary felt an unbelievable warmth over her face. Like she was laying in the sun on a warm June day. The problem was, she couldn't recall doing anything of the sort. She blinked her eyes open and realized she was nowhere near the ocean. She wasn't even in the sun. The warmth and light, which was really more of a glow, was coming from a person who was hovering over her.

"What…" she murmured.

A glowing hand touched her cheek and she was engulfed in a feeling of calm serenity. She felt safe, cared for. Her eyes drifted closed again, and she fell into a comfortable slumber. She had no idea how long she slept but it had to have been quite a while because she suddenly recalled she was supposed to be at work, but she couldn't seem to wake herself up.

Events of the bank robbery flooded her mind. The three gunman, them taking her hostage and then the immense pain that filled her chest. There was maniacal laughter as she lay there suffering on the ground, barely able to breath. She could still hear it. It seemed to echo all around her.

Her breathing was labored as she opened her eyes, but the room was pitch black. She pushed up on her elbows from her prone position to see where she was. It didn't look or feel like a hospital, but it was clearly a room of some sort. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark and then she realized she could still hear the laughter. It was raspy and grated on her nerves. It was also extremely close by.