Janie tumbles into a bank vault, where a black-haired cop sits on the floor, tied up. He wrestles with the ropes around his wrists and the gag in his mouth—

5:15 p.m.

She’s back in the chair, next to Cabel, except Cabel is walking behind her, moving toward his chair again. The door is closed now. He sits down.

“Thanks,” she whispers, and clears her throat. “Didn’t see that one coming.”

Captain is staring at her, eyes narrow. She looks from Janie to Cabel, back to Janie. She clears her throat. Loudly. Waiting.

Janie’s face goes white.

Cabel’s eyes go wide.

“Do you need medical assistance, Ms. Hannagan?” the captain finally says.

“No, sir. I’m fine, thank you.”

“Cabe?”

“She’s fine, sir.”

Captain taps her pen on the desk, deliberating. She speaks slowly. “Is there anything else you two want to tell me about what just happened here?”

Cabel looks at Janie. “It’s your call,” he says quietly.

She hesitates.

Looks Captain in the eye.

“No, sir,” she says. “Just…that…one of your officers is asleep at his desk and he’s having a nasty dream. Looks like a bank robbery gone bad for the cops. He’s tied up in a vault. Sir.”

Captain’s face doesn’t change. She taps her lips with the pen now, and she’s holding the wrong end. Blue ink leaves a tiny dotted trail under her nose.

“Which officer, Janie?” the captain asks slowly.

“I…I don’t know his name. Short black hair. Early forties, maybe? Stocky. He was tied up with rope around his ankles and wrists, and had a white cloth gag around his mouth. Last I saw, anyway. Things change.”

“Rabinowitz,” Captain and Cabel say together.

“You want to double-check those facts for me, Cabe?”

“Sir, no offense, sir, but I don’t need to. I think you might like to go question him yourself.”

Captain tilts her head slightly, thinking. She pushes her chair back. “Don’t go anywhere, you two,” she says. She gives them both a strong, hard look before leaving. A look that says, “You better not fuck with me.” When Captain opens the door and strides out, Janie grips the chair in anticipation. “Leave it open, Cabe,” she gasps as she goes blind.

And she’s back in the vault.

They’re running out of air. The cop is struggling to get loose. He’s trying to knock his cell phone out of his belt. Janie knows he wants to call his wife. She tries to get his attention. He looks into her eyes, and she concentrates on his pupils. Ask me to help you, she thinks as hard as she can think. Though she doesn’t know how he will be able say it with the cloth stuffed in his mouth. She hears a muffled plea and realizes it’s good enough. “Yes! That’s it.” She unwraps the gag, and realizes she spoke out loud. Cool. “Now.” She stares into his eyes again. “This is your dream,” she says.

“You can change it. Get free.”

He looks at her, his eyes wild.

“Get free,” she encourages again.

He struggles and cries out.

And his arms and legs break free.

He lunges for his phone and calls 911. Closes his eyes, and the vault lock magically appears on the inside of the vault. A piece of paper floats down from nowhere with the information on how to open it. He does it instantly.

And everything goes black.

5:19 p.m.

Janie’s back with Cabel. He’s touching her arm. “You okay, Hannagan?” He slips outside and returns, hands her a paper cup full of water, and she drinks it greedily. She is shaking only slightly, from adrenaline more than anything. “I did it. I helped him,” she says. “Oh, God, that was cool! My first time for a tough one like that.” She grins. Cabel is smiling wearily. “You’ll have to explain that one later,” he says. “If you’re still speaking to me.”

“Oh, Cabel. I…”

Captain comes back into the room and closes the door.

“Tell me what you saw, Ms. Hannagan. If you would, please. Rabinowitz says it’s okay.”

Janie blinks. She can’t believe Captain is taking her seriously. She tells her everything she witnessed in the vault.

There is a long.

Long.

Pause.

“Hot damn,” Captain says finally.

She tosses her half-glasses on the desk. “How’d you do that? You’re…you’re…”

She hesitates.

Continues, almost as if to herself, in a voice tinged with something. It might even be awe. “You’re a regular Martha Stubin.”

6:40 p.m.

Cabel and Janie are snarfing down grease-burgers and fries at Frank’s Bar & Grille, next door to the police department. They sit at the counter on round red bar swivels, watching the cooks fry burgers five feet away. It’s one of those old-fashioned places, where you can get a malted milk shake. They eat with abandon, minds whirling.

8:04 p.m.

They are back at Cabel’s house. Cabel shows her around the two rooms she hasn’t seen: his bedroom and the computer room. He has two computers, three printers, a CB radio, and a police scanner.

“Unbelievable,” she says looking around. “Wait—wait one second…. Do you live here alone?”

“I do now.”

“How—”

“I’m nineteen. I was in the class ahead of you until ninth grade. You may remember.”