Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
Troy and Megan were sitting on the low vinyl chairs opposite the desk, Troy with his ankles crossed and Megan leaning back with her phone in her hand.
Troy was rolling his silver quarter across his knuckles, the metal clicking against his ring finger.
When the office door swung fully open, Troy did not look up immediately, assuming it was Henry arriving to turn in his keys.
“You’re late, old man,” Troy said, his voice carrying that familiar, mocking drawl.
Then his eyes traveled up the pressed trousers, past the silk tie, to Carter’s face.
The silver quarter slipped from Troy’s knuckles and dropped onto the linoleum with a sharp ring before rolling under the desk.
Megan froze, her thumb stopping half an inch above her phone screen.
“What is this?” Megan asked, her voice rising quickly. “Who are you?”
Carter closed the door behind him and did not offer his hand to either of them.
“My name is Carter,” he said, his gravelly voice sounding even slower in the small room. “I bought this property in nineteen eighty-four, and I signed your tax forms in January.”
