Chapter 3 - THE SIGNATURE
My mother stopped breathing.
At least that was what it looked like.
Her face emptied out.
“What did you say?”
Eli clicked on a scanned document.
“Small-business emergency loan.”
He zoomed in.
“Applicant: Claire Carter.”
Mom stepped closer.
“That’s not mine.”
Sterling struggled against Marco’s grip.
“This is ridiculous.”
Mom stared at the signature.
Then her eyes dropped to the address.
Our address.
Our real address.
My stomach hurt.
Even at four and a half, I knew when grown-ups were scared in a way that had nothing to do with yelling.
Mom whispered, “How did you get this?”
Eli checked the metadata.
“Uploaded seven months ago.”
Vincent looked at Sterling.
“Explain.”
Sterling shook his head.
“I don’t handle every document personally.”
“You own the restaurant.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
Vincent slammed his palm against the table.
I jumped.
So did everyone else.
For the first time, he raised his voice.
“Explain.”
Sterling’s mouth shut.
Mom stepped toward the laptop.
“Was money taken out in my name?”
Eli nodded reluctantly.
“Twenty-four thousand.”
She almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because sometimes people laugh when something is too awful to fit inside them.
“Twenty-four thousand?”
She turned toward Sterling.
“I couldn’t buy my daughter milk last Thursday.”
Sterling looked away.
Mom took another step.
“I borrowed nine dollars from a dishwasher.”
Her voice shook.
“You used my name to steal twenty-four thousand dollars?”
“I didn’t use your name.”
“Then who did?”
Sterling stayed silent.
Vincent studied him.
Then he looked toward the restaurant office.
“What’s in there?”
Sterling’s eyes moved toward the office before he could stop himself.
Vincent noticed.
So did Marco.
Marco headed for the door.
Sterling shouted, “You need a warrant!”
Vincent looked at him.
“I’m not the police.”
Marco opened the office.
Sterling went wild.
“Don’t touch anything!”
That told everyone the same thing.
There was something to touch.
I clung to Mom’s leg.
She rubbed my hair without looking down.
Marco came back carrying a metal lockbox.
Sterling closed his eyes.
Vincent looked at him.
“Key.”
“I don’t have it.”
Marco held up the key ring they had taken from Sterling’s pocket.
“This one says safe.”
Nobody spoke.
Marco unlocked it.
Inside were envelopes.
Copies of driver’s licenses.
Social Security cards.
Employee forms.
Mom whispered, “Oh my God.”
Vincent began removing them one at a time.
Names.
Addresses.
Copies of IDs.
Every employee in the restaurant.
Maybe former employees too.
Eli picked up a stack of loan documents.
“This guy has been using staff identities.”
Sterling snapped, “You have no proof I did any of that.”
Eli lifted a folder.
“Your email address is on the submissions.”
Sterling’s jaw dropped.
It was almost impressive.
He had lied so often he seemed personally offended when facts interrupted him.
Mom grabbed a chair.
Her legs had started shaking.
Vincent looked at her.
“Sit.”
She did.
I climbed onto her lap.
She held me tight.
Too tight.
I didn’t complain.
Vincent continued searching the box.
Then he found a small black notebook.
Sterling’s face changed.
Not fear this time.
Panic.
Vincent saw it.
“What is this?”
“Nothing.”
Vincent opened it.
Rows of names filled the pages.
Numbers beside them.
Initials.
Amounts.
Dates.
One column was labeled HOLD.
Another said PRESSURE.
Vincent flipped pages.
Then stopped.
He looked at Mom.
“Claire.”
Mom swallowed.
“What?”
He turned the notebook around.
Her name was there.
CLAIRE CARTER.
$24K.
DEPENDENT CHILD.
EASY LEVERAGE.
Mom stared at those words.
For several seconds, she did nothing.
Then she handed me to the waitress beside her.
“Hold Rory.”
“Mom?”
“I’m right here.”
She walked across the room.
Sterling backed up.
“Claire.”
She slapped him.
Hard.
The sound cracked across the restaurant.
Nobody stopped her.
Sterling touched his cheek.
“You crazy bitch.”
Marco moved.
Vincent was faster.
He grabbed Sterling by the collar.
“Say that again.”
Sterling froze.
Vincent’s voice dropped.
“I’d like to hear it twice.”
Sterling said nothing.
Vincent released him.
Then Eli turned another page in the notebook.
His brow tightened.
“Boss.”
Vincent looked over.
Eli’s voice lowered.
“There’s a date next to Claire’s name.”
“So?”
“It’s tomorrow.”
Mom’s face drained.
“What happens tomorrow?”
Eli stared at the notation.
Then at Sterling.
“According to this?”
May you like
He hesitated.
“Collection.”
