"Are you okay, ma'am?" the police detective asked her.
"Oh, yes. I'm...I'm fine. It's just that I...I still can't believe this happened."
"From what the bank manager said he didn't get any money, and no one was hurt. I'll just need to take your statement then I'm pretty sure you'll be able to get back to work."
"I...I think I might just go home," she said before telling the detective everything she could remember.
"So you got a look at his face?" he asked as a final question.
"Well, yes. As I said, our security guard walked up behind him and pulled the man's hat and sunglasses off. He was so surprised by it he just stood there staring at me for a couple of seconds. I'll never forget that face as long as I live."
The bank officer, a retired gentleman who worked there as a security guard, had his nose broken when the bank robber finally realized what was happening. He spun around and struck the officer in the face using the heel of his hand before running out of the bank empty handed. He'd be okay, but he was going to need some time to recover.
"I only saw him for that short amount of time, but that face is seared into my mind."
"Okay, great. The security camera images are of no use either because of the cap and glasses or they're too blurry to make out during those moments when you saw him. Could I possibly talk you into coming to the station and sitting with a sketch artist?"
"Could it wait until tomorrow? Please?" she asked. "I promise you I won't forget what he looks like overnight."
The officer knew he couldn't compel her to do anything, so after trying to gently persuade to come with him right then and there to increase the odds of catching the inept bank robber, he relented and told her that would be fine.
"I'll stop in before coming to work. And I really won't forget," she promised.
"All right. You're free to go check in with your manager, and thank you for your time Ms..."
He looked down at his notes then said, "Ms. Young."
"Oh, sure. Of course," she replied quietly before turning around to find her manager to tell him she wanted to go home.
Hannah Young had only been there for six months. After having lost her husband to cancer nearly three years earlier, the life insurance policy money he'd provided for her and their daughter was nearly gone. She'd stayed home as much for her daughter's sake as for her own as they recovered from losing the most important person in their lives, and a job had become a necessity.
She'd applied at several places, and largely due to the bank's hours, she'd taken the job, never seriously thinking something like this would happen. Yes, she knew banks still got robbed, but the thought of it ever actually happening at that bank while she was there seemed all but impossible. That was something that happened on TV crime dramas, not in her home town of Frankfort, Kentucky, population 25,500 and change, where she'd lived her entire life.
She'd grown up around guns, and fired several when she was much younger but had never had one pointed at her until two hours ago, and that was something she never wanted to experience again. Hannah was 40 years old with a 10-year daughter, and no job was worth risking her life for.
The only thing she wanted to do was go get her daughter out of school and hold her tight before going home and crawling into bed. It didn't matter that the odds of this 20-something man actually using his weapon were extremely low. What did matter was that he'd pointed it right in her face, and she was still shaking with fear from the experience.
Her manager told her she needed to close out her drawer, but after that, she was free to leave. Hannah did her best to count out every penny, but she had no idea if it was accurate, and quite frankly, for the first time since she started working there, she didn't care.
Peaks Mill Elementary School was on the north end of town where she and her daughter, Alicia, lived in a modest, three-bedroom home; the only house in which Alicia had ever lived. As she drove, Hannah worried about how to tell her daughter what happened without scaring her. Having lost her father, she knew any thought of losing her mother could be potentially very frightening to a girl her age.
Alicia was finally as fully recovered from the loss as a child could be after being deeply withdrawn for over a year, and the last thing she needed was a setback from hearing about the robbery. Or rather—the attempted robbery. Were she not so overcome with fear, Hannah might have even laughed at the ill-prepared, would-be robber who'd let an elderly security guard take him by surprise. But she wasn't laughing. She was just grateful to be alive and on her way to the one person she loved above all else. She'd eventually call her parents who'd retired and moved to Orlando, Florida, but for now, all she cared about was Alicia.
It only took the school about two minutes to bring her daughter to the office after her mother requested she be let out of class. Alicia smiled when she saw her mom through the glass as she walked to the office, but the smile didn't last long when it occurred to her that something bad might have happened.
"Mom? Is everything okay?" Alicia asked as soon as entered the office.
Hannah didn't want to overreact, but she latched onto to her little girl and held her so close it frightened her daughter.
"Mom! You're hurting me," she complained as she tried to push away.
"Sorry. I'm so sorry, honey. I...I'm just so glad to see you."
"Are Gramma and Grampa okay?" she asked as fear welled up inside her.
"Oh, sure. Yes, they're both fine, sweetie. Everyone is just fine."
"Then why are you here?" Alicia wisely asked.
Hannah hated lying to her daughter, but she still hadn't thought up a cover story, so she said, "I...I just wanted to...for us to go do something together."
"But school's not out yet, and aren't you supposed to be at work?"
There was a television in the office behind Alicia and facing Hannah. It was turned on, but the volume was too low to hear. Then when a local reporter interrupted the program with news of an attempted robbery at a bank in town, the school secretary turned it up.
"Oh, my Lord!" the matronly woman said in a heavy southern accent, something neither Hannah nor her daughter had ever picked up in spite of having lived in Kentucky all of their lives.
The look on the woman's face caught Alicia's attention more than the news itself, and the way she was looking at the television caused her to turn around and look, too.
"Mom! That's your bank!" Alicia said as she pointed to the image on screen.
"Oh, right. Listen, sweetie, we...we need to go, okay?"
She tried to gently turn her daughter back around to get her to follow her out of the office, but Alicia didn't budge as she continued watching the report.
"You were there, weren't you?" the 10-year old said more than asked. "That's why you're here. You were there and now you're here because..."
Once Alicia, a very bright young girl, put two and two together, she understood. And once she understood, she turned around threw her arms around her mom and held her as tightly as she could.
"It's okay, honey. Mommy's fine," Hannah said, using a word for herself she'd stopped using two years ago.
Alicia was crying, and Hannah knew this wasn't going to be easy.
"Come on. Let's go...let's go get some ice cream and we'll feel better, okay?"
Hannah Young almost never ate junk food of any kind, and that meant daughter didn't, either. Even ice cream was a once or maybe twice-a-year kind of treat. Alicia knew that and would normally be excited, but right then, all she cared about was being with her mother.
