Three Decades of Pretending Come to an End in a Military Holding Cell

I took my checkbook out of my purse.

“I need you to find out exactly how he opened this account in my name.”

“I require a four-thousand-dollar retainer,” Arthur said.

“My hourly rate is…”

He broke off and turned his attention to his desktop monitor.

He started typing on his mechanical keyboard.

I opened my checkbook and wrote out a check for four thousand dollars.

I tore it free and pushed it across the glass desk until it touched his keyboard.