I parked near the front entrance of Oak Creek Bank.

We sat in the cold car for five minutes.

I rubbed my thumb against my wedding ring.

Eleanor reached across the console and covered my hand with hers.

Then we walked inside together.

Brenda Potts had reserved the private conference room at the back of the branch.

The room had no windows.

A large mahogany table took up most of the floor, with eight heavy leather chairs around it.