Three Decades of Pretending Come to an End in a Military Holding Cell
My main checking account showed a balance of four hundred and twelve dollars.
The fraudulent loan didn’t appear on this screen at all; it lived in some shadow file I had no way to reach.
My phone buzzed against the laminate nightstand.
The screen lit up with Arthur Vance’s name.
I picked up on the second ring.
“I’ve found our man,” Arthur said.
“The notary?”
“His name’s Samuel Miller,” Arthur said.
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