We need to call him right now,” Caleb said.
His voice had a dry directness that usually calmed me, but my fingers remained cold against the keys. I could see the reflection of my own face in the glossy screen, pale and small against the white background of the PDF.
“He won’t answer,” I said. “He never answers when he wants to make a point.”
“Then we call your mother,” Caleb said. He pulled out the chair next to me and sat down, his eyes still fixed on the screen. He tapped his knuckles against the edge of the Formica. “She will know why he is using this specific bank form.”
“She will only say what he tells her to say,” I said.
“Let her say it anyway,” Caleb replied. He pointed at the screen, his finger hovering near the bottom of the page. “Look at the routing number at the bottom of the invoice. That is not his usual personal account.”
