Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
He reached the Buick and stopped near the rear bumper. The driver’s side window was cracked open an inch. Carter looked through the glass into the back seat.
A faded blue wool blanket was folded neatly over a cardboard box. Through the top of the box, Carter could see the collar of a white dress shirt and a stack of small, yellowed envelopes from a local clinic. A plastic gallon jug of water sat on the floorboard next to a pair of worn leather work shoes.
Henry was not just working late to pay off old bills. The old man was living out of the back of his car.
Carter reached down and noticed a small magnetic key box tucked inside the rear wheel well, barely visible behind the rusted rim. He reached in and pulled it loose, sliding the cover back to reveal a rusty key to the Buick sedan. He held the cold metal in his palm, realizing how fragile Henry’s hold on his life really was.
If Henry lost his job at the diner, he would have nowhere to park the Buick without being moved along by the local police.
