Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
“You shouldn’t have to live out of a Buick, Henry,” Carter said.
“It has a good heater,” Henry said, trying to smile. “And the seat is comfortable enough once you get used to the springs.”
He leaned his head back again, his eyes closing as the warmth of the afternoon sun hit the windshield.
Carter walked back toward the diner’s rear entrance, his mind spinning with the weight of what Henry had just shared. He stopped near the small, high window that looked directly into the back counter area behind the register.
Through the dusty glass, Carter saw Troy standing alone at the register terminal. Megan was standing near the front door, her eyes fixed on the parking lot, watching the street.
Troy was not holding a customer ticket. He was typing rapidly on the touch screen, his fingers moving with a practiced speed that did not match his slow, careful movements from earlier in the afternoon.
Carter leaned closer to the glass, his breath fogging the corner of the windowpane. He watched Troy reach into his pocket and pull out a small piece of white paper, matching it to the screen before hitting a sequence of keys on the terminal.
