The manager opened the passbook exactly where Grandma had placed the faded red stamp. He studied the routing code, then looked at my driver’s license again.
Part 2:
The manager opened the passbook exactly where Grandma had placed the faded red stamp. He studied the routing code, then looked at my driver’s license again.
Once.
Twice.
His expression tightened.
“Ms. Henderson,” he said quietly, “I need you to stay inside the bank.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer.
The teller was still behind him, staring at her monitor as though she had found something she wasn’t supposed to see. I could hear customers talking several windows away, but window four suddenly felt sealed off from the rest of the branch.
The manager checked Grandma’s name again. Margaret Henderson. Then mine. Chloe Henderson. His eyes returned to the last page and the red circle.
Behind him, the teller swallowed hard.
“It’s her,” she said. “The girl from the case file.”
My stomach dropped. I had never heard of any case file. Grandma had never mentioned one. Dad certainly hadn’t.
Then the manager stepped back from window four with the blue passbook clutched in both hands.
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Type BOOK and I’ll post Part 3.
ANSWER ” BOOK ” IF YOU WANT TO CONTINUE WATCHING THE FULL ST0RY IN PART 3
