"You're desperate, and so am I," I said. "Desperate people make stupid decisions all the time." Veronica Roth

Marshal Edward Mars was on the hunt for me. It was 2002 and he hadn't managed to catch me since the bus station incident. He was able to book me locally then take me for arraignment to Des Moines, Iowa. That night in 2001, he ended up face down in the mud at night while I drove off in his car, thanks to a large, black horse that ran across the street and distracted him.

It became personal for him then. He despised me. Despite that I felt underneath that attitude and annoying accent, that he was beyond fascinated with me. He knew all about me and loved talking about my background, parents, upbringing, if my step-father touched me, and if I liked it.

He was supposed to be a marshal but was really the devil. I knew something wasn't right with him. No cop talked this way. He would have trained as a cop, right? Or did they make a habit of having sex talk with their female targets or doing a few things he did that I don't want to think about?

Now that Tommy was dead, Edward wanted to know if I "screwed him" to get him to do my dirty work. He also asked if we were lovers as teenagers and what it was like doing it in a barn? He was a twisted little pervert.

I wondered if the calls to his office were recorded or if he could edit them. He was obviously trying to get a rise out of me. I hated calling him but he was the keeper of the charges and added another one – a murder charge for the death of Tom Brennan.

Edward loved calling me Katie. I hated it. Only my Dad, Tommy and a few people around Ames that knew me as Katie. I went by Kate since high school. Not Katie, not Katherine, but Kate.

I called Edward periodically with an egg timer on. I knew exactly how long it took for him to trace a call, ones he liked to drag out, and would slam the phone on him each time when the ringer went off early. I didn't want to cut it too close.

I started calling him on Holy Days. I asked him to stop pursuing me since he was the lead on my case and explained the circumstances of Tommy's death. He had put me on The Most Wanted List.

I didn't kill Tommy. I told Tommy to get out of the car several times. That police officer shot him.

Edward liked to remind me that I was the one driving and escaping. That's when he started to taunt me about what was in the back seat. He had found the items and figured out Tommy and I had done some digging the night before. He found my fingerprints on the plane and the shovel. Edward asked what we were doing all night in the fields? Then he began to talk about the plane, teasing me that he had it hidden somewhere special.

I wondered why I had to deal with him? I didn't see Edward outside the office anymore, maybe because he couldn't find me. I went to Des Moines under cover for a while and he didn't catch me.

Edward let me know on a call that he had hid the plane in a safe deposit box in Ruidoso, Mexico. I did my research on the place. It wasn't' hard to figure out in a village of 8,000 people which bank it was at.

Not only did I find Edward and his sex talk revolting, but I began to go on the offensive. I started to call him not only at the office or on Holy Days but on his cell and at his home to aggravate him on nights and weekends.

He got really pissed off when I interrupted a family function and asked about his wife and two kids by name. I asked about the plane. He said I'd never be able to get it at . . . and started to say the name of the bank in a rare fit of rage. I hung up. I had what I needed.

An article from National Geographic said that truth and anger light up the same part of a person's brain in studies. If you get someone mad enough, truth will start pour out, usually against someone's will. That's how I got confirmation directly from the beast himself.

I navigated my way carefully into the criminal world, trying to figure out a way into the Federal Building in Des Moines, Iowa to Edward's office. I figured he kept the key to the safe deposit box there. It was more secure than his home, which wasn't hard to locate thanks to the internet.

I had made contact into the "underbelly" or crime world in Des Moines because of my need for fake identities. It was not a big hub so much as an intersection. It was a crossroads for major cities including Chicago, Kansas City, Minneapolis and St. Louis. All kinds of things were trafficked along those highways including stolen goods, drugs and I don't want to know what else.

I was in need of false passports for all of my aliases. I already had driver's licenses. I also wanted a contact that could get into the Federal Building for that safe deposit key.

I was directed to a man named Simon Pons. That wasn't his real name. It was a name he had either been given or assumed. Most people went by nicknames. I had none.

I was surprised when I reached out that Simon took a meeting with me right away. I had to disguise myself with my hair under a hat, coat and glasses and go to a bar in the morning in a bad part of town. I told a tall man outside who I was and he brought me back to meet Simon. I was also surprised I wasn't patted down.

I was led into a back room to find a large man with four men gathered near him as he sat at a round table. It was older, wood furniture stained a dark mahogany and the place smelled like left over cigarette smoke but was relatively clean. All my mental alarms were going off. I was strapped. I had two guns and a large knife on me in easy reach but I was small and already outnumbered.

It turns out I wasn't in any danger.

Simon stood and the other men backed off when he did. He walked over to me, face to face, and sized me up. He was an overweight man, maybe 6 feet tall and looked like a mix of Hispanic and African American. He took in my diminutive size. He was powerful. It wasn't his body, but his stance and aura. He was shaved bald and had a large diamond stud in one ear. He also wore gold, a lot of it.

Simon had gold rings on both hands with different symbols, one front tooth was capped in gold and he had a thick chain around his neck. He also had a lot of tattoos. I couldn't make out all of them but saw a deck of cards, a clock with no hands and a grim reaper with a scythe on his arms. He was intimidating.

I stood with my back straight and made eye contact. I had nothing to lose. As much as my legs itched to run, it was do or die for me. I didn't have another option on my destructive path to DC-3.

After a minute of sizing each other up, he started laughing and put his hand on my shoulder. He turned introduced me as "Iowa's Laila Ali," the little farm girl that broke Edward Mars' nose. The other men laughing along with him. He patted my shoulder and offered me a chair saying he had been wanting to meet me. Edward Mars and the feds was no friends to him or his business. He said any enemy of Edward's was a friend of his.

Small talk was minimal. We got down to brass tacks. He sent his men out of the room for privacy. I needed the safe deposit key and box number for the bank in New Mexico. I also needed the false passports so I could leave the country when ready.

Simon thought for several moments. I could see he was amused still to see me. His elbows were on the table and he rubbed his hands together while he thought like there was lotion on him. The rings flashed gold with specs of diamonds in the poorly lit room.

Simon said he had people planted in the cleaning crew and others he wouldn't mention in the Federal Building. If the key was there, they would find it. The box number would likely be on the small envelope the bank puts it in.

Passports were nothing, too easy. He waived his hand and said he was tempted to get the key as a "thank you gift" for what I did to Edward Mars. Edward got demoted and his team stripped away after I escaped.

In between his demotion and my escape, Edward was still in the field occasionally in a group of marshals. He was verbally harassed by Simon's people for what I did to him. The broken nose gave him two black eyes. The best part of the story to Simon was Edward being left face down in the mud while I drove away in his car.

Simon made me retell the story so he could hear it first-hand, then tell it again in front of his men. He shook his head laughing heartily. He said he'd work out good terms for me.

I would do a few easy jobs for him that didn't involve me racking up more charges or me physically be used or hurt. I would be safe. No drugs were involved either. I didn't exactly trust Simon but felt that he had some kind of respect for me. He nicknamed me Laila. Kate no longer existed in his realm.

The jobs were easy and it turned out he was paying me for them. My looks had to be temporarily altered to disguise me. I was a plant with some other girls gathering information on enemy territory with a few unknown guys of his filtering around to watch out for us.

I ended up walking away with four grand in cash, the key, and also information from Simon about who to contact in Ruidoso. Simon took a liking to me, kind of like a pet or prize, but I knew I was dealing with someone who did bad things well beyond my reckoning. I didn't want to stick around or get cozy. This wasn't my world.

Simon didn't know what was in the safe deposit box and didn't care. He came up some local criminals, a trio, trying to make a name for themselves with the bigger bosses. They were untested but willing and I could use them if I wanted.

He told me to beware of one man in the group I was being sent to. He said he is the smarter of the three and muy macho. He may be harder to convince that a tiny lady is going to run the show. I had the backing with him and his boss but on the ground, I had to show them who's in charge.

Simon was very blunt and said I might have to do something I don't want to convince the main guy. He was known to be a lady's man. It was my choice depending on how much I wanted what was in that box.

Simon looked at my somberly before I left. He said hoped not to see me again. He told me I don't belong in the crime world. I would end up dead. He said there are some things worse than death that could happen too.

My name was now officially Maggie Ryan and the bank robber wannabes were expecting me. Maggie was my alias for St. Margaret, Patron Saint of the falsely accused.

Simon told me to get the hell out of there and good luck.

Have you ever felt like something was mapped out ahead of you or something you didn't know was pulling strings to pave the way? I felt that way about Simon Pons and what happened next.

Usually, when fate or whatever it is guides a person, dumb luck even, it's for something good, right? I could have ended up in the wrong place with the wrong person and dead or worse, but I didn't.

But I wasn't up to any good. I was an emotional wreck chasing a small toy like it was a lifeline. Why would anything pull strings for somebody like me?

I was hitting rock bottom mentally and emotionally.

I would have never pursued the DC-3 otherwise, putting myself or anyone at risk. I was at the point I didn't care anymore about what happened to me.

I was depressed and hiding it under a hardened exterior.

I didn't think about other people and potential collateral damage with what I had planned. I loathed myself and what my life had amounted to. I lost everything and everyone I cared about. All ties were severed and I was adrift.

I had to have that plane, no matter what the cost was.

The DC-3 was Tommy, me, my childhood, and so much more encapsulated in cheap plastic.

I made my way to a location outside of Ruidoso to meet Jason and his two associates, who turned out to be friends of his, Big Brennan, who was 6'5" tall and heavy, and Rick. The latter two were idiots.

Jason was cunning and superficially handsome, but aggressive and had something to prove. It took some planning, but they knew I had come with the endorsement of Simon and the boss above him. It was their chance to prove something and get some business rolling their way.

Unfortunately, I ended up getting involved with Jason. I was that driven and willing to do whatever to convince him. It was hard to pretend to be "career criminal" and an ingénue at the same time, refusing his advances. I wasn't a virgin but didn't sleep around. I made my choice. To me, it was worth the price I had to pay.

I'm not proud of what I did with him but physically getting involved with Jason cemented the deal. I didn't enjoy being with him in bed, but I don't think he could tell the difference or cared. It was the final push that got him and his groupies galvanized. Before that, Jason was resistant and wanted to do things his way.

His two friends would do whatever he said. He acted like he was in charge, but started to back down and alternately treat me as an equal. I didn't care about him and wasn't in love. I had to fake it. He seemed enamored with me though, even though I was cold to him at time and fought to maintain dominance. I had to be a bitch at times, even hit him. I felt like I was in somebody else's body and life. I had no heart. My chest felt carved out and empty. Jason finally bought off on it and saw us as a modern Bonnie and Clyde.

I felt confident enough to go forward with the plan but his friends were half-wits and Jason was like a half-cocked frat boy and not always reliable. I wondered sometimes if he was taking any kind of stimulant drugs. Sometimes he had massive energy and enthusiasm. Other times he was calm and normal.

The clock was ticking. Edward had to know the key was missing.

I decided it was time to pull off the job under the pretense of going for the cash in the vault.

I would go in as a decoy to distract the bank manager and they would come in as masked robbers after. I would play it straight as the customer and stay that way. That included my staying behind to see what the people said to the cops and if they could be identified.

That part was a ruse so I could make a get-away on my own.

Jason didn't seem to be aware of my fugitive status or who I really was. He must have been living in a cave or hole before I showed up.

The day of the robbery had arrived.

I was in Ruidoso, New Mexico. I went into a bank, tastefully dressed in a form-fitting, turtleneck sweater, knee-high pencil skirt and heels. I wore my hair in a smart chignon with tasteful costume jewelry that appeared authentic and artsy. I was playing a role.

I was in a bank and sat across from a stern-looking man who was the manager. His name plaque said Mark Hutton. He was polite but didn't seem to smile much. The bank was quiet. It was mid-day with maybe 7 customers at the most milling around or talking to a teller.

"Okay, Ms. Ryan, if you just give me some I.D., we will get your loan application started."

I smiled and dimpled at him as I handed over my I.D. I was almost 25 years old at the time. "Of course." I said accommodatingly.

He copied down my information from my I.D. but kept glancing up appreciatively, trying to not be obvious.

"So, what brings you to New Mexico?" He asked.

"My work." I answered pleasantly.

"And what line of work is that?" He asked, pen working away as he wrote down my information.

"I'm a photographer." I leaned in as I answered." He was still writing, probably my answers by now.

"What do you photograph?"

"I do various jobs. Right now, I've got this little project." I said a little dismissively.

"No, I'm curious." He said, he watched me with a warm look on his face.

"It's a commission for a coffee table book - pictures of old movie theaters in small towns."

Mr. Hutton seemed charmed, not only with the idea but me. "Oh, there's a fantastic one down in Ruidoso."

My eyes lit up. "Really?

"Can't miss it. It's right on Main Street." He said with enthusiasm, a smile spreading on his face.

I smiled back at him. "If I use it, I'll give you an acknowledgement . . . I read his nameplate out loud this time. ". . . Mr. Hutton." I leaned back. He had a nice face and energy. Somewhere in the back of my mind, there was a conscious. It was almost muted, but I knew I didn't want him to be harmed. That wasn't the plan.

"Mark." He said softly, a shy smile on his face.

BAM!

The door burst open and someone shot a gun. It startled me, Mr. Hutton, the customers and employees. A few of the female customers screamed.

I spun around and saw three masked men, stockings pulled over their face, moving through the bank with guns. The shooter, Jason, wore a black sweater and shouted orders.

"EVERYONE DOWN ON THE GROUND! DOWN ON THE GROUND NOW!" He motioned for the tellers to back away from their counters. "STEP BACK! DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT! HANDS! SHOW ME YOUR HANDS!

On the other side of the bank, the tallest of the masked man, Big Brennan, pistol whipped the security guard at the front. The guard fell onto the marble floor. He disarmed him and tucked the gun sloppily in the back of his jeans.

The third robber, Rick, stormed into the bullpen. I sat there with Mr. Hutton. Rick grabbed me by my arm roughly and pushed me over to the center island of the bank. "GET UP!" He yelled at me. "C'MON! OVER THERE! ON THE GROUND! MOVE!"

Another gunshot echoed as a security camera exploded behind the tellers. Another one was shot and disintegrated. I scrambled on the floor to where the other customers were already lying on the ground with their hands covering their heads. They were completely petrified. I glanced up sideways, still on my knees.

Big Brennan practically threw the security guard at me and pointed his gun at my face. "ON THE GROUND, BITCH!"

I got on the ground. I peeked at the other customers, all in states of shock and panic.

A few yards away, Rick, wearing a baseball cap over his face stocking, pushed Mr. Hutton across the bank towards the Jason.

"You the manager?!" Jason demanded.

Mr. Hutton glared at him, very calm under the circumstances.

Then Jason repeated himself. "I said ARE YOU THE MANAGER?!"

Mr. Hutton answered defiantly, "Yes." I had to admire Mr. Hutton's pluck while being held up. I doubted this had happened before in this sleepy town.

Jason stuck his gun into Mr. Hutton's neck. "Good. Now open the money cage before people start getting killed."

Big Brennan looked at me again. "Don't look at me! Look at the floor!" He yelled.

I laid on the floor, petrified, my hands over my head.

The guys were doing their jobs well, too well.

Jason, was clearly leader of the group and the talker. He had his gun pointed at Mr. Hutton's head. "Give me the key, now. I'm tired of asking nice. Give me the money cage key, now."

"You're just going to kill me, anyway, why would I give you. . ." Mr. Hutton responded but was hit so hard in the clavicle by Jason's gun butt he was cut off and fell. My eyes narrowed at that.

Nobody was supposed to be hurt. It was supposed to be clean, in and out, no innocent people getting injured or killed. I warned the three morons it would tack on more charges. We had a time limit to finish and exit.

"You think we're in a conversation, here, huh?" Jason snarled at him.

Big Brennan yelled at the customers and employees. They were stirring and frightened because of what just happened. "Everybody be cool! You want to go home?! Don't look at me, look at the floor! Be calm, stay down!"

The Jason leaned down to talk into Mark Hutton's ear. "Listen to me, I am not going to ask you again. I want that key!"

"I can take him." A large man in a baseball hat was on the floor next to me. I think he was a trucker. He was eyeing the robbers.

"What?" I was incredulous. "Don't! You'll get yourself killed." I whispered in warning. I didn't want him to get hurt.

All three men were armed and at least two were twitchy. Jason's friends were nervous as hell. The only one with marginal self-control was Jason and he was already going way off script.

"The tall guy, he's not watching us. It's now or never. Keep your head down." He whispered. I stayed flat on the floor, wishing I could stop him.

The big man in the ball cap tackled Big Brennan and the gun skidded and slid towards me.

The truck driver yelled at me. "Pick it up, pick it up! Shoot him! Shoot him! What's wrong with you? Shoot the gun! Turn off the safety!" I was slow to pick up the gun and stood. I shook and pointed the gun at Jason and tried to fire but the safety was still on. Jason walked over quickly.

"Give me that gun." He demanded.

"Other side, turn it off!" yelled the man in the hat.

"I don't know how to use a gun!" I called back nervously. I couldn't break character and botch the job. I was so close to getting into that deposit box. I held it, pointing at the Jason with both hands trembling.

The man who tackled the Big Brennan was knocked out by him and Rick. Jason grabbed the gun from me, as I was expecting him to.

He grabbed me by the neck. "Okay, little hero . . ." He said menacingly. I looked into his eyes, afraid.

I cried out. "No, please don't!" I knew I had to play my part but he was still unpredictable.

"Shut up!" He yelled at me. "Let's you and me go talk, huh?" He dragged me into a private room by the back of my neck, me stumbling along. Mr. Hutton protested.

Jason slammed the door behind us. I leaned against a desk with my back then turned around. I sat on the desk casually and smiled, dimpling, hiding any nervousness.

Jason, took his mask off. "I don't know how to use a gun? That's classic." He said as he approached me.

I laughed softly. "Yeah." He strode over and kissed me passionately.

Several minutes went by. It was quiet outside of the door except the occasional outburst from Big Brennan or Rick.

Jason has his arms around me, then walked by the door to listen. "Hell, yeah! By now their imaginations are running wild!" He was amped up on adrenaline.

We had already agreed he would need to rough me up and hit me in the face.

"Don't hold back. He won't talk if the details are off." I was referring to Mr. Hutton. He and I already had a little rapport.

Jason grinned at me with a devilish smile. "You and your details, Maggie." He hit me hard, backhanding me with his right hand, then his left a few times. I told him to do it again to make sure I was bleeding. He did, enough to split my bottom lip.

Jason brought me out form the back with the red marks on my face, wiping blood from my mouth.

"Okay, hero." Jason said, shoving me into the room, making me stumble.

"No, please don't. I've got . . ."

Jason shoved me to the floor at the feet of Mr. Hutton. "Shut up!"

Rick yelled at the employees and customers again. They were exclaiming and upset after they saw me and my blood dripping on the floor. "Everybody just relax! I said quiet!"

Jason held a gun on me this time. Mr. Hutton looked down at me, his face full of worry. "Okay, Mr. Manager, you want to be a hard-ass? Protect a vault that doesn't even belong to you?" I shook my head to say no to Mr. Hutton. "Okay? There's going to be consequences." Jason threatened.

"Don't! He's going to kill me anyway." I told Mr. Hutton. I was on my back, trying to sit up.

Jason grabbed my shoulder roughly and held a gun to my neck while talking to me, then the manager. "I said . . . if you don't shut up. . .! You've got 3 seconds to give me that damn key. 1, 2," He cocked his gun. "3."

"Alright, I'll give it to you." Mr. Hutton relented.

"Good. Let's go, right around here. Let's go." Jason grabbed me by the neck and dragged me along with the gun to my head as Mr. Hutton took us to the vault.

Jason was getting impatient. "What the hell you waiting for? Open the damn thing." Mr. Hutton had been using the keys to open the vault, then spin the wheel to unlock it. He then had to open the money cage inside, which resembled a jail cell. Stacks of cash sat on a table. "Well, now we're talking. Don't move." He ordered Mr. Hutton and me.

"Please, don't. I can't. . ." I pleaded with Jason.

"Shut up!" He said again, shoving me against the bars by the cage door. The three men began to grab cash, pocketing and stashing it everywhere they could.

Mr. Hutton looked at me. He wanted to save me. "I let you in, now please, let the girl go."

"Let the girl go?" Jason said sarcastically. "Man, you have no idea, do you? The girl is the one who set you up. The girl picked this bank, picked this vault. This whole thing is the girl's idea." Jason took his mask off.

At that moment, I wanted to kill him. He wasn't supposed to give me up or take off the mask. He just blew his cover and mine.

"What are you doing?" I asked him, shaking my head. He had lost his mind with power.

Jason pointed his gun at Mr. Hutton's head. "Easy, Maggie. I'm just cleaning up after myself." In a split second I knew what he was going to do. He was planning on killing Mr. Hutton. There was no way in hell I was going to let that innocent man die because of me.

I grabbed the gun from Big Brennan, who hovered near me, and pointed it at Jason's head. "You shoot, I shoot."

Mr. Hutton stood, his back against the wall of safe deposit boxes. His voice quivered in fear. "Please, what's. . ."

I felt cold steel run through my veins. "I said, no one gets hurt." I started Jason down, ready to pull the trigger.

Jason looked at me as if he knew me. "I know you're cold, baby. But you're not that cold."

He had no idea fucking what I'd do to protect someone. He was stupid to underestimate me

Jason cocked his gun. I shot him in the knee so he couldn't walk. His gun fell in my direction.

I grabbed it and shot Brennan then Rick one after the other by crossing my right and left hands. I was ambidextrous. Dad trained me well years ago. They all laying on the floor bleeding and making noises.

Jason was on his back moaning. "You shot me, stupid bitch!"

"Shut up, Jason!" I snapped at him.

"I told you not to trust her." Brennan said as he rolled on the floor in pain.

I quickly turned to Mr. Hutton. I had to be quick. "I need the key to safety deposit box 815, now!" I put all three guns on the table so he wouldn't feel threatened.

"Who are you?" Mr. Hutton looked confused.

"The key to the box, now!" I insisted urgently. I didn't yell at him. I just needed him to move.

"You need 2 keys. The bank's, and . . ." He started to explain. I held up the customer key, courtesy of Simon. "If you had the customer key, why would you need. . ."

"I'm not on the signatory card." I explained. I could feel the seconds ticking away.

"You put me up to this to get into a safe deposit box? I swear to god, you better kill me, Maggie. Because if you don't. . ."

"My name's not Maggie." I cut him off. I reached back and pulled the cage door shut to lock the three idiots in.

"Now, go!" Mr. Hutton saw the men were secured and ran and returned with the key. I just hoped he didn't call authorities.

He came back in less than a minute and put the key in. He whispered for me to hurry. I nodded and put my key in, then opened it. Inside was a teal envelope with something small in it. It was the perfect size for the DC-3.

I peeked inside the envelope, then ran out and grabbed my I.D. and purse from Mr. Hutton's desk. He stood there as if he was waiting. I gave him a remorseful look, then took off. He had the phone in his hands, watching me.

When I was exiting the front door, I saw him start to dial for the police. He had waited for me to escape first. The man owed me nothing but let me go. I felt a little choked up.

My solo get-away was pre-planned. By the time I was well outside of Ruidoso, the cops were probably putting cuffs on the three morons back at the bank while the EMT's were checking on their knees.

Hopefully that would put them out of commission for a while.