For Seven Years I Sent Forty Thousand Dollars Every January, Until Emma Finally Spoke

She slid the printout across the polished wooden counter.

“That money never stays in Oak Creek for more than an hour, Arthur,” she said.

I looked down at the grid of numbers.

The forty thousand dollars had landed in Mark’s personal checking account at nine in the morning on January sixth.

I followed the black ink across the page.

At ten minutes past ten, the whole sum had been wired out again in one single transaction.

“Where does this bottom routing number go?” I asked.