Page 63 of Micah

A knot forms low in my stomach.

“Patrick?”

He ignores me.

Starts opening drawers.

Slamming them shut.

Opening another.

“What are you looking for?”

He whirls toward me.

“Where's last night's deposit bag?”

The words slur together.

His breathing sounds too quick.

Too shallow.

I blink.

“I...” I frown. “I made the deposit last night.”

He freezes.

For one heartbeat.

Then his face twists.

“What?”

“I dropped it at the night deposit like always.”

“The bank?”

“Yes...”

“No!” he shouts, slamming both hands onto the bar hard enough to make every glass rattle. “No, no, no!”

I stare at him.

“What is going on?”

“I needed that money!”

His voice cracks.

“I need it today!”

Confusion washes over me.

“What do you mean you needed it? It belongs in the bank.”

He paces behind the bar.