"Heads up," I murmured, nodding towards the two men. "FBI."
Garrett peeled off to approach them and as Maddox looked over, I saw the flash of concern in his eyes when he noticed me. I held up my hand and gave him the “okay” sign and a smile. There was no point in worrying him too. A moment later, all three walked back to us.
"So this is the Graves Mafia at work," said Farid, glancing at my brothers dotted around the room.
"Something like that," I said. "If you can spot an officer we're not related to, you get a piece of chocolate candy."
"Gee," said Farid, pushing a fist under his chin and looking for all the world like he was trying to guess.
"Ehhh!" I squeaked a noise like a buzzer. "Too slow! I'm related to everyone in this room."
"No shit?" Farid grinned amiably. "What about her?" He pointed.
"That's my cousin, Sergeant Tara Graves."
Farid's grin grew wider. "No shit?"
"So, you can probably guess what I'm doing here," I continued. "What about you?"
"I don't think I can guess," said Farid, "but I've heard you can always be found in situations like this."
"We got a call about a bank robbery and decided to come along and see for ourselves," said Maddox.
"Really?" asked Solomon in complete disbelief.
"I wanted to say that scathingly!" I said to my husband as I popped his arm. To the agents, I said, "Reaaaally?" in as sarcastic a voice as I could manage.
"Yes, really. Not many bank robberies pop up on our radar. It seemed rather intriguing. Is that the manager? Excuse us," Maddox nudged Farid and after two polite nods, they both headed for Jord and the manager.
"Do you believe that?" I asked as we watched them.
"Please," snorted Solomon. "They expect us to believe they just stopped by to take a look? The presence of the FBI just made the whole event even more interesting."
I gazed at Jord as he and the bank manager spoke. The bank manager rubbed his neck with one hand and began shaking his head as the agents approached. "I can't wait to find out what the bank manager has to say," I said. "I wonder what was in the vault. Garrett said no to gold ingots."
"We're not interviewing him."
"Why not?"
"Because we're not getting involved," said Solomon as we continued to survey the commotion, our backs to the wall. "This is exclusively a police matter, and possibly an FBI case."
"What do you think was stolen from the vault? They went directly there."
"Could be anything. People keep all kinds of stuff in vaults besides gold ingots. Plus, I don't think this is a gold ingot kind of bank."
"Do you have a box in this vault?"
"Actually, I do, yes," said Solomon.
I glanced up. "Then why aren't you worried?"
"It's currently empty. And no, I wasn't hiding it from you. You're listed as the second account holder and I'll show you where I keep the key at home."
"What did you keep in there?" I pressed.
"Documents mostly."
Hmmm. That was a line of questioning to be pursued another day. I once found Solomon a quiet, mysterious man but after he got shot and languished in a coma, I dug through his life and discovered a lot more about him. I learned why he didn't particularly want to talk about his past, which was okay by me, so long as he didn't have a problem discussing the future.
"The documents were my secret identities. Fake passports and driving licenses. Cash in several different currencies and also an untraceable nine millimeter," said Solomon gently against my ear.
My eyes widened. "Say what?"
Solomon's face lit up in a smile. "Kidding. Just wanted to see your response."
I thumped his upper arm softly and he pretended that it made an impact. As he rubbed his arm, my cellphone rang. "My mom," I told him, still wondering if he really were kidding.
"News travels fast," said Solomon.
"I better answer or she'll fill up my voice service. Hi, Mom!" I gasped in fake cheer.
"Alexandra Graves-Solomon! Tell me you are not inside that bank!"
"I am not inside the bank."
"I knew it!" she wailed. "Mrs. Goldberg's son got her one of those fancy smartphones and she sent me a photo of you splattered with blood. You took on the bank robbers, didn't you?! Lexi, how could you manage to get stabbed again? Or were you shot? How could you?!"
"Who's Mrs Goldberg?" I asked, frowning.
"You two haven't met yet. Someone sent it to her friend, who got it from their cousin,