I stood there staring at the counter. It wasn’t the first accusation like that, and it wouldn’t be the last. Still, it always hurt. I took pride in my work. I didn’t cut corners. I didn’t sell repairs people didn’t need.
To some, though, I was just another mechanic in coveralls.
At closing time, exhaustion hit me hard. The sky outside had turned dull and gray. As I swept under one of the lifts, my broom struck something solid.
I bent down and pulled out a black leather wallet, worn soft at the edges from years of use.
When I opened it, my breath caught.
Stacks of hundred-dollar bills were folded neatly inside.
I counted without meaning to. Then stopped.
It was more money than I’d seen in my account in years.
Rent was due in three days. The power company had already sent a warning notice. Brynn’s sneakers had holes straight through the soles. I’d taped cardboard inside them the week before.
My heart pounded.
