“You can’t draw ten dollars out of the operating reserves without Garrett’s second approval.”

“Did he show original photo ID for the secondary accounts?” I asked.

“He gave us the emergency court order and your medical evaluation file,” Dale said, stepping back from the truck’s fender.

“I’d suggest you talk to your lawyer before the fifteenth.”

He turned and walked back across the parking lot, his dress shoes clicking sharply on the clean pavement.

I backed out of the space and headed south across the river, pulling up at Frank Doyle’s single-story brick house in Oak Cliff at three in the afternoon.