Chapter 18: The Folder

I was in the aunt's kitchen in four minutes, in my socks.

Shelby was already there with the folder open on the table.

My aunt stood at the printer in the den, wearing a bathrobe and an expression I had never seen on her.

"Colt," she said. "Send the picture again. Slowly."

He sent it.

The printer coughed and pushed out the 4471 statement, line by line.

I held it up to the light.

The name at the top was Diane Marie Hollis, and the balance was $31,882.

"Her maiden name," I said.

"I know who she is," my aunt said. "I've known her longer than you."

She pulled a second sheet from the tray.

It was the church fund check, photographed front and back, with the deposit stamp on it.

Shelby took the bank statement with my name on it out of the folder.

It was real, I saw.

It showed the autopays I had set up, six years of them, circled in red pen.

She had taken my own generosity and turned it into a list of charges.

"What do I do with this one?" Shelby asked.

"Give it to me."

I folded it into my pocket.

Then I slid the 4471 statement into the folder in its place, and the church check behind it.

The speech page stayed on top, with the red cry marked in the margin.

"She'll check," Shelby said. "She always checks."

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