Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
Linda reached into her canvas bag and pulled out a black laptop, opening the lid until the screen glowed against the dark wood of the desk.
“We pulled the drive from the security system yesterday afternoon,” Linda said.
She turned the laptop so the screen faced Troy and Megan.
On the video, the kitchen door was visible, showing Henry carrying a heavy green trash bag out to the gravel lot.
The timestamp in the corner read seven forty-five in the morning.
While Henry was outside, the camera showed the register counter.
Troy was standing at the terminal, his left hand holding a paper cup and his right hand tapping three keys in rapid succession.
The register drawer slid open, and Troy reached inside, pulling out two twenty-dollar bills and sliding them into his back pocket.
“That’s just a cash pull,” Troy said, though his voice had lost its familiar mock. “I was moving the overage to the safe.”
“The safe drop log for that day shows zero dollars entered,” Linda said.
She clicked the mouse, and another clip played, showing Megan standing at the same terminal three hours later while Henry was scrubbing the dish station.
