A three AM phone call about a locked room changed everything

was Gas, and the third was Gifts. At the bottom of the page, a total was neatly circled in blue ink: four hundred and twelve dollars.

“Who is Melissa?” I asked, my voice barely carrying over the hum of the refrigerator.

“A teller at the bank near his old office,” Stacey said. “There are six pages for her. He even taped the parking stubs from the motel continue reading …