A Twenty-Dollar Bill Dropped Into the Dust Beside a Tennessee Highway

“The front office wants to know why you’re not at the bank signing the preliminary disclosures.”

“The disclosures will keep,” I said.

“I need an address.”

“Whose address, Garrett?”

“Megan’s,” I told him.

Dale’s rag stopped moving.

He stared straight ahead at the metal fence running along the property line.

“She moved out of the rental on Elm Street back in June,” Dale said.