“Just the primary account holder,” Dale said quietly.

By half past four, I was sitting alone in the executive conference room on the top floor of our headquarters.

The long oak table was bare except for my black pocket calendar and the brown bank envelope lying next to my glasses.

I looked up October twenty-fourth in my calendar.

Garrett had told me he was spending that Tuesday evening checking concrete pours at the north highway site.

I had stayed home that night, resting after a sudden wave of exhaustion that left my legs feeling heavy.