The teller was a young woman named Brenda with a silver name tag pinned to her green cardigan.

She ran my military card through her desktop scanner and tapped the dark keys six times in quick succession.

Her fingers froze over the plastic keyboard.

“There’s a forty-five-thousand-dollar outgoing wire transfer on July fourteenth,” Brenda said quietly.

“On July fourteenth I was deployed in Kuwait,” I said.

“The transfer authorization was signed in person here at this counter,” she said, looking past my shoulder toward the lobby.

“I want to see the actual paper form used to authorize that transfer,” I said.