[A/N]: I don't know what startled you guys more, the end of the last chapter, or my relatively speedy update. XD Enjoy! The end is nigh!
Myka gave a cry of surprise. "What the hell?!" Pete yelled. He tore from the room, scrambling to Claudia to review the videotape from that moment. Myka followed more slowly, watching Steve, Claudia, and Pete gape over the footage of Helena disappearing in the blink of an eye. "Check all the security cameras," Pete snapped.
She appeared once, in a flicker, at the door to the stairs, just a single frame of her appearing in the video. "Oh my god," Steve whispered. "That's not possible."
Myka's purse was still in the interrogation room; she retrieved it, dug out her phone, and, not really hopeful, dialed Helena's number. It went straight to voicemail.
…
She had been put on the wanted list, of course. News in the area had her face plastered all over their channels, with a short spiel about why she was wanted.
Damn, a thousand times damn. Helena couldn't go home now, not with the surveillance surely in place around her apartment. Where could she go, but out of DC? Helena chewed her lip worriedly, clutching the steering wheel of her parked car. She couldn't be caught, that much she knew. She threw the car into gear, plotting out the emptiest route to the highway in her mind. If she couldn't get the last of the payments together, Christina wouldn't live out the month.
Her daughter shouldn't have to pay for Helena's own mistakes. And Helena's pride wouldn't let her ask Charles for the money. So she had no choice but to hit another bank, a final bust. Enough to pay off the last of the money she'd promised, and enough to get her into London illegally. But where would she go from there?
The blaring horn of a pickup yanked her back into reality, and she hurriedly corrected her car, having nearly scraped the side of the truck.
She wanted to blame Myka for this unfortunate turn, but really, it was Helena's fault.
God, though, the look of sheer betrayal in Myka's eyes in the FBI office. Helena had done that to her. She should've broken it off the instant that she knew Myka was law enforcement. A bitter laugh escaped her. The FBI agent and the bank robber, what could possibly go wrong?
The sun crept into her eyes as it set before her; she reached over and put her sunglasses on. She drove off into the sunset, not missing the irony of it, heart in tatters.
…
"She'll have left town," Myka said. "News bulletins can only do so much; in a case this big, has any branch of any law enforcement department ever gotten a useful tip off the nightly news?"
"How do we trace her?" Artie asked, watching her solemnly. Despite her personal involvement in the case, her boss had not raised a complaint when she took charge of the pursuit of Hel−the Time Traveler.
"Run her plates, and run those of any cars reported stolen," the agent replied authoritatively. "We already know that she has no qualms about stealing cars, and that she's good. Hurry, she could change cars at any minute."
"It's been two hours," Pete stepped in, looking at Claudia. "What can you do with that to make our lives easier?"
She nodded. "This is the furthest she could've possibly gotten in two hours by car." On her screen, a map of DC popped up, and an orange circle bloomed outwards from it. Claudia pointed out the edges of the circle.
Myka opened her mouth to ask something, but a ding cut her off. "That's a hit on a stolen car!" Claudia said sharply, drawing up an image from a highway. "Seatbelt camera. Myka, can you tell if that's her?" She pointed at a small white car with rental plates.
Myka leaned in closer. "Is there any way you can get in closer?" she asked Claudia. "I want to be sure." Claudia made a dubious expression, and the image was slightly enlarged. Myka studied the hands gripping the wheel, the face just behind them. She studied the image as long as she dared, comparing the blurry pixels to the face she had spent hours thinking about. "That's her," she said finally. "Pete, with me. Claudia, follow that car as best you can, send us the directions."
She and Pete raced into the parking garage and into Pete's big black SUV. "Lights on, and speed," Myka told him, buckling in.
"I know, Mykes," he shot back, shooting out of the parking structure. Myka's phone buzzed, cutting off whatever he was about to say.
"Head west on 66, then take 81 south. She just passed Edinburg," came Claudia's voice. "I've got eyes in the sky and I'm in traffic cams. I'll tell you if she gets off 81."
"Thanks Claud," Myka said, hanging up. "You got that?" she asked Pete. In response, he flicked on the flashing lights and the siren, tearing through downtown DC to the highway.
The hours of driving were passed in terse silence; Pete spent it intensely focused on not crashing while speeding, and Myka stared unseeing out of the window.
There was too much to process about this case. All of the explanations she could come up with were impossible. Teleportation? No. Spontaneous collective fainting? Pfft, no. Even her nickname, the Time Traveler, was impossible.
Why on earth would Helena need to rob banks at all? Was it for her daughter, Christina? To pay for her treatment at the hospital? No, that couldn't be. Healthcare in the UK was free, wasn't it? Myka put her chin in her hand as Pete wove through traffic.
The sun finally disappeared on the horizon, and Pete took off his sunglasses. "South exit to 81," Myka said absently, pointing towards the exit. Pete obeyed, maneuvering through traffic to the looping ramp. He whipped onto the 81 at frightening speed, but thankfully kept control of the car.
Myka's phone rang again; she lifted it to her ear without looking. "What's up, Claud?"
"You said her kid was in the hospital, right? Gimme the name, I'm gonna find her and see if she calls her," the young agent answered without preamble.
"Christina. Wells, probably. And I think her brother Charles is keeping an eye on her while Helena is robbing banks overseas." Myka couldn't keep the edge of resentment from her voice.
"Got her. I'll watch the hospital's main line, and the brother's cell phone."
"How legal is this, Claudia?" Myka asked suspiciously.
"Good question," Claudia replied blandly. "Not sure." She hung up, not doing any favors for Myka's already foul mood. She sent a text with directions about half an hour later; Myka read them aloud to Pete and stared out the window some more.
Steve called about half an hour after dusk. "She made a call to her brother a few minutes ago. Claudia triangulated; you guys are close." He relayed the directions to Pete through Myka and continued, "She lost time casing the joint, and she's definitely getting sloppy. You'll get her, Myka," he added, and she could hear the gentle smile in his voice. "Claudia's got tabs on her cell phone now, we won't lose her unless she pitches her only link to her daughter into the nearest body of water."
"Thanks, Steve. Call if the situation changes."
…
The 300 inhabitants of the area called their home a town; to big city dwellers like Pete and Myka the name was laughable. The town was a main street, a few cul-de-sacs, and two gas stations. Pete pointed out the bakery on their way to the town's lone bank, trying to get Myka to relax. She even laughed, and told him she would buy him an entire pie and drive them home while he ate it, after everything was over.
"I don't know what she expects to get from here," Pete commented. Myka drew her gun and kept low, skirting the front of the little bank.
"Safety deposit boxes don't exactly fit her MO, but at this stage, all bets are off." The back door was unlocked, the number pad beside it fried. The agents slipped into the darkened building.
The vault was undisturbed and still locked. The employee areas were deserted. The pair checked each room thoroughly, and then made their way to the lobby.
The back of Myka's neck prickled as she followed Pete at a few paces. Moonlight streamed in through the front windows, illuminating everything in pale grey. Myka narrowed her eyes and spun, catching the wrist that reached for her; there was a click and Pete froze.
Myka moved to get her handcuffs, and Helena blurted, "If you let go of me, I'll escape, and you'll never see me again."
"You're insane." She tried to pull away, but Helena's hand followed hers, and suddenly their roles were reversed; Helena wrapped her long fingers around Myka's wrist. "Pete!" Myka shouted.
There was no answer; she twisted in Helena's grip to see him standing, still as stone, in the middle of the lobby. He wasn't even breathing.
[A/N]: Seeing as I've never actually robbed a bank, I can't promise that my bank security is entirely accurate, but here goes. xD
I'm getting pretty excited for the end of this story, actually, so expect a much faster update! Thanks for reading!
