Three Decades of Pretending Come to an End in a Military Holding Cell
No surprise loans tied to this house?”
Glenn folded his arms across his chest.
A little smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“I was dealing with the real-world problems while you were off playing dress-up for Uncle Sam,” Glenn said.
“Somebody took out an eighty-five-thousand-dollar loan at First Carolina Bank,” I said.
“In my name.”
Glenn didn’t blink.
He picked up a microfiber towel off the hood of his truck and wiped a water spot from his side mirror in slow, careful circles.
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