Three Baby Cribs and a Missing Set of Car Keys
“Since the transfer was completed with the correct security codes and authorized by a joint owner, the bank cannot dispute the charge,” Mr. Henderson said. “Technically, both parties have full legal access to those funds.”
He looked at me with a quiet, professional pity that made my throat tighten.
“I can print the official transaction history for your records,” he said.
“Yes,” I said. “Please print it.”
The printer in the corner of his office began to warm up, its mechanical whirring loud in the small room. He stacked the two pages neatly, tapped them against the desk to align the edges, and slid them into a white business envelope.
“I am sorry we cannot do more,” he said.
I took the envelope and stood up. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Henderson.”
I walked out of the bank and into the bright morning. The air was warm, smelling of asphalt and exhaust. I did not get into my car because I did not have one; Shaun had dropped me off on his way to the hardware store.
