Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
Henry was on his knees near the kitchen doors, using a yellow mop bucket and a stiff brush to clean the grout. He rubbed his lower back every time he reached forward to scrub.
Over by the office door, Troy and Megan stood close together near the wall. Troy had his hand on the safe dial, but he was not turning it.
He was leaning in, his voice a low murmur that barely carried over the noise of the dining room. Megan laughed, a sharp sound that died out quickly as she looked toward the counter.
She pointed her chin toward Henry.
“He won’t even know what hit him,” Troy said.
“Are you sure the manager is going to check the logs today?” Megan asked.
“He has to,” Troy said. “The register is short sixty dollars from yesterday, and every single void has zero-four on it.”
Carter watched Troy roll a silver quarter across his knuckles, his fingers moving with practiced ease.
“It is perfect,” Megan whispered, her fingers wrapping her dark ponytail around her index finger.