“You do?”
“I do. Careful is how you keep a bank alive.” I folded my hands on the counter. “Would you do one thing for me before I go home for the rest of my papers?”
He sighed. A long, put-upon sigh.
“What?”
“Would you look up account number 0001?”
“Ma’am, I can’t just—”
“It’s my account,” I said. “You have my license right there.”
He rolled his eyes. Right at Tommy Ruiz, the security guard. A little look that said can you believe this?
Tommy didn’t look back at him.
Brandon turned to his computer. He typed with two fingers, fast and hard, the way young people do.
Zero. Zero. Zero. One.
He pressed enter.
He stopped typing.
He looked at the screen for a long time.
He scrolled down.
Then up again.
He leaned closer to the monitor. He squinted. He read something. I watched his lips move.
