Gable blinked quickly behind his glasses.

“I have to go by the signatures we have on file,” he said.

“If those were forged, that’s a police matter.”

“It is a police matter.”

Outside, the parking lot was nearly empty.

I stood beside my car with the receipt in my hand and the sun coming through the bare trees in long, pale stripes across the asphalt.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

Jenna, my sister-in-law, her name lighting up the screen.