“We’ll be waiting for him at the bank tomorrow morning.”

He got out of the car.

I opened my door and stood on the wet asphalt, watching him walk around to the back of his sedan.

Marcus placed the stacked ledgers into a hard leather briefcase.

I watched him lock the heavy briefcase full of evidence in his trunk.

At nine forty on Friday the fourteenth, the bank lobby smelled like lemon polish, and the shredder had been running since we walked in.

Ethan stood beside me with the baby against his chest.