Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
He was staring down at the gravel, his chest moving in shallow, uneven breaths.
“Henry,” Carter said, keeping his gravelly voice low as he approached.
Henry did not look up immediately, his fingers tightening around the key ring in his hand.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Carter,” Henry said, his voice shaking slightly.
“That job was the only thing keeping the car registered.”
“Jim is just looking at the screen, Henry,” Carter said, standing a few feet away.
“He has to follow the reports until the audit happens.”
“My wife’s hospital bills are still sitting in the glove box,” Henry said, gesturing toward the passenger side of the Buick.
“They don’t care if I have a job or not.”
“They still send the letters every Tuesday.”
“Don’t leave Springfield, Henry,” Carter said, adjusting his gold ring.
“Just give it a few days.”
“Why should I stay?” Henry asked, looking up, his eyes clouded.
“Everyone in that building thinks I’m a thief now.”
“I don’t think you are a thief,” Carter said.
“And there are other people who will see the truth once the corporate office looks at the system.”
