Flash Point by Colby Marshall Page A

the handful surrounding you in this very room. You’re safe here,’ Jenna said. The bank employee might never again feel safe, and it was wrong to tell her that her trauma was over. It might be months or years. Might be never. But Jenna had learned over the years that, just after a trauma, reminding victims of their immediate physical safety – something that didn’t insinuate their plight was easy or their distress was being downplayed, but rather, addressed a valid immediate concern rightly held – was one of the few things that eased panic.
    Ashlee’s eyes flew open, widened. ‘How do you know that?’ she squealed.
    A shade of blue flashed in, and Jenna begged her mind to recognize it. She inwardly flipped through the shades of blue in her lexicon, mental images attached to some of them that might spur clarity. Her thoughts landed on a freeze-frame of Ayana catalogued in her mind, one where her daughter was coloring a picture of a princess in a coloring book. With a blue crayon.
    Wild Yonder Blue was its name, according to Crayola. The color she associated with the normal, everyday mundane long before she’d even conceived Ayana.
    Everyday life.
    Of course Ashlee would question her safety even if, under normal circumstances, dozens of Feds would make a person feel untouchable. It was the reason the terrorists had chosen this normal, everyday bank in a normal, everyday place to attack. It was easy for people to convince themselves that they wouldn’t be subject to a terrorist attack, in a small, off-the-radar town or unlikely place. Much harder to pretend you didn’t go to the bank as part of your weekly or even monthly errands.
    â€˜Because these criminals don’t want to get caught,’ Jenna said truthfully.
    â€˜How could you know
that
?’ Ashlee asked, blinking and staring at Jenna. ‘I’ve seen movies where guys who leave a note … where the note means they secretly
want
to be found! What about
them?
’
    â€˜It’s my job to read people. Criminals. It’s the reason I’m called for cases like this. To give my opinion on their mindsets. It helps us form a picture of who we think they are based on what they did. It also helps law enforcement find them by predicting what they might do next. Based on this crime scene …’ Jenna stopped. Took a deep breath.
Honesty. Honesty is still best.
‘Ashlee, I wish I could tell you my reasoning for thinking this, because I have very solid reasons to think it. But right now, with the case still under investigation and you our only reliable witness—’
    â€˜Your
only
witness,’ Ashlee cut in.
    â€˜â€”it’s important that we keep your statements uninfluenced, and that includes by us as the investigators. That said, I believe the perpetrators have tried to get as far away from the crime scene as possible because they don’t want to be caught, and I believe it for reasons other than just assumptions. OK?’
    Ashlee nodded, bit her lip. She seemed wary, but in a second, she closed her eyes again. The signal to resume.
    â€˜All right. Here we go,’ Jenna said.
    She took Ashlee back to hearing the woman scream near the door and walked her through to the point they’d left off before when Ashlee had just crawled out of the room behind the teller line to hide under the teller desk. ‘Are your eyes open or closed?’ Jenna asked softly. If Ashlee could focus first on a little detail about herself unrelated to the horror gripping her, maybe it would remind her she had made it through OK. Help her home in on the finer details around her.
    â€˜Closed,’ Ashlee said quickly.
    Jenna nodded even though Ashlee’s eyes were closed now, too. ‘Good. After you made it under the teller counter, was the next sound you heard close to you or far away?’
    â€˜Close,’ Ashlee whispered.
    â€˜How close?’
    Ashlee clenched her eyes tightly.