Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
Carter had no way of stopping him without revealing who he was and why he had been sitting on that end stool for three weeks.
The risk was high, but the silence had to be maintained for one more night.
After a few minutes, the driver’s side door of the Buick creaked open.
Henry slowly swung his legs out onto the gravel.
He stood up, his body stiff from the cold, and immediately reached back to rub his lower back.
He was wearing his old green work apron over his flannel shirt, as if he had forgotten to take it off when they suspended him.
He walked slowly toward the gas station convenience store next to the motel, his feet dragging slightly in the loose stones.
Carter watched him go, noting the slow, deliberate way the old man carried himself.
He looked like a man who was trying to keep his balance on a narrow ledge.
If Henry gave up and left the county before tomorrow morning, the corporate auditor would simply close the file and label Henry a fugitive.
