Chapter 5

As Bethany walked to her vehicle, she twisted and stared back at Mel's parents' house.

"I'm sorry," Conall said at her side.

She looked at him and gave him a small smile. "I am too, in so many ways. Including the reality that tomorrow I have a full day and need somebody at the front desk, but obviously I can't have her there."

"No, you can't," he agreed, with a nod. "Mel is not the kind of person you want handling your client's animals."

"To think that she even caused the chaos to create cover for taking the petty cash and giving it to Page is unbelievable," Bethany muttered.

"And that's how we ended up losing Bacchus," he pointed out.

She agreed, not wanting to belabor the point. "I need to talk to Page—although he told me that his name was Jamie."

Conall frowned, as he pondered it all for a moment.

She shook her head. "He's been going through some name changes lately."

"As in an identity crisis or, preparing for a new identity?"

She stared at him and shrugged. "Honestly I have no clue. I don't understand what's been going on here, so I'm the last person to ask questions like that."

He nodded. Michael had also called him Page, so he wasn't sure that Jamie was even his name. "Let's go visit Michael and see if the nephew is there. I thought the nephew was in his late twenties, early thirties?"

"He is, and that's also another reason Melanie's father is not enthused. He was initially outraged because Melanie is only twenty-two. So I'm sure he thinks the age gap is too big."

"Add in her immaturity and that gap gets even bigger. Plus the fact that Page doesn't seem inclined to work a job, and apparently they're not opposed to taking and using other people's money. That makes me a little worried about Michael, as to whether they have access to his bank account."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, good God, I sure hope not."

"I hope not too, but, if Page has access, even if he doesn't touch it now, he'll know when Michael's pension and his disability come monthly, and Page could access it anytime," Conall noted. "If Michael's not expecting anything, Page and Mel could wait a little bit or take little bits here and there and then clean him out."

Bethany groaned. "I would like to think that they wouldn't do that, but, after today, I think differently," she stated, hanging her head. "I'm definitely not impressed, and I'm facing a pretty rough day tomorrow because I won't have anybody to staff the front counter."

"Don't you have anybody else you could call on?"

She shook her head. "Not really. Though it's not a hard job, it does still require a certain amount of personality, tolerance, and the ability to answer the phone."

He hesitated, then offered, "Look. I can step in and answer the phone and move people through the office and keep things flowing. I could handle that." She stared at him in shock, and he shrugged. "I deal with animals pretty well, and I always have," he added. "It's not as if I"—he laughed—"I can't be any worse than what you had, but maybe that's not quite correct," he said, with a smile. "Anyway, if you don't find somebody else in time, just let me know. I'm still a warm body."

She nodded, still staring at him in shock.

"I know you weren't expecting it," he said, with a shrug, "but I'm not that scary, am I?"

She chuckled. "No, you're not that scary, and the offer is very much appreciated because I honestly don't know if I can get somebody in on this short notice."

"You'll have to hire somebody else eventually."

She groaned. "The only reason I agreed to hire Mel in the first place was because I was desperate."

"Staffing is really that big of an issue here?"

She nodded. "It can be, yes, and that's frustrating in itself because we're not sure whether it's just a temporary shortage or the new wave now," she admitted, with a sigh.

"Has anybody complained about wages, or is it just the fact that they don't want to live or work here?"

"Most of them are heading for bigger towns, bigger cities," she replied, "and I can't really blame them."

"What about you? Are you okay to stay?"

"I would like to stay," she said. "I was born and raised here, and that does get in your blood."

"It does, indeed," he agreed, with a smile. "Let's go talk to Michael, make sure he knows just how vulnerable he is. I don't want to put any ideas into his head, but I don't want him to wake up one day to find he's been cleaned out because his nephew decided to go someplace better. Whatever the hell his nephew's name is, Michael better watch out."

"It would really hurt Michael if that happened."

"I know, but, if Michael has already trusted him enough to provide access to his bank account information, then it's up to Michael to make a decision, but at least it will be an informed decision."

"But even some informed decisions can still be made with blinders on, and that's the worst," she argued, "especially blinders where family is involved."

He smiled and nodded. "I understand, but would you feel any better if Michael ended up getting cleaned out, and we hadn't said anything?"

"No, I would feel absolutely horrible," she cried out. "I'll meet you over there."

And she got back into her car, she turned on the engine and waited for him to pull out first, then followed him, since he knew where he was going.

As he pulled up to the front of Michael's place, she watched as Page took one look at the two of them and bolted back inside, slamming the door. She groaned to herself. "Damn it, you don't have to make things harder on yourself."

But apparently he did. When they got up to the front door, nobody answered. She looked over at Conall, and he nodded. "I don't even know if Michael's here, but I can bet that the kid has been spouting off a bunch of lies in the meantime."

"Of course he'll try and save his position," Bethany murmured, as she picked up her phone and called Michael's number.

He answered in a grumpy voice. "I'm here. I'm here. What the hell is going on?"

"It's Bethany. Can we talk to you?" she asked.

"Sure, but my nephew says that I can't go to the door and that you guys are here to cause trouble."

She sighed. "Maybe so, but it'll be trouble for him, trying to save you some trouble. Still, you need to know what's been going on."

There was silence first, then he swore softly. "I'm coming. Just give me a minute or two."

"Make sure he doesn't stop you," she murmured.

"Is it that bad?" Michael asked.

"Honestly I don't know," she admitted. "I'm not sure to what extent this tomfoolery has risen to."

Michael groaned softly. "The door shouldn't be locked, but I suspect Page has locked it because of you."

"Can you unlock it, or do we need to find another way to get in?"

"I'm in my room," he muttered. "It's a little hard for me to walk these days on my crutches, and I'm not in my chair."

"Michael, do you need help?" she asked in alarm.

He hesitated again. "I don't know. My nephew says you're here to cause trouble."

"From his perspective, I'm sure that's true, but nothing he didn't bring on himself."

"Can you give me an idea what it is?"

She looked over at Conall, who stood at her side. "His girlfriend worked for me…"

"Melanie," Michael replied, "kind of young, but a sweetheart."

"Yeah,… well,… she caused a ruckus at my office, so she could steal the petty cash and give it to Page, and he took off with it. That's when Bacchus got lost because they opened the door to a cat cage with dogs in the waiting room to cause enough chaos to hide their theft, when stealing the petty cash. In the meantime, the War Dog walked out the front door, and Mel couldn't be bothered to stop Bacchus. It was clearly an intentional two-person job," Bethany pointed out.

"What?" Michael asked in astonishment. "What about the animals?"

"That's the problem," Bethany replied. "The other animals were eventually contained, but Bacchus went missing because of their orchestration, and there's been no verified sign of him since."

He started swearing. "Page has been acting funny, ever since that government guy showed up, asking about the dog."

"Conall's here with me right now, and we just came from Melanie's house," Bethany shared. "So I would really like to talk to you, and I would like to talk to Page."

"I'm pretty sure he'll bolt, if I let you guys in."

"What would you like us to do?" she asked Michael, looking over at Conall. "You know this won't have a good end."

He groaned. "I was really hoping the kid had changed, that he would calm down and settle in and be a decent answer for getting me some help and some company. Yet I guess I knew. He's always been chafing at the bit, always wanting to go places, always wanting to be somebody."

"He can be somebody all he wants," she stated firmly, "but he doesn't need to do it on my dime."

"Or mine," he added heavily.

She waited and then asked, "Have you had a problem along those lines?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know."

"Then I suggest you let us in and let us help you figure it out," she suggested.

"What about this other guy, Conall? Do you trust him?"

"Yes," she confirmed, surprising herself. "I do. He's here for the well-being of the War Dog and is very unimpressed at what's going on. He's the one who brought up the fact that, if Mel and Page were willing to take money from me, we are worried about you and your money. If Mel and Page have your bank account information or anything else, then you're at risk too."

Michael started to swear. "Give me a few minutes, and I'll get to the door." With that, he ended the call.

She looked over at Conall and nodded, and he gave her a somber look. "He already had a good idea, didn't he?"

"He's aware that he could be in trouble, yes. He's not sure, but he did mention something about his money."

At that, she watched Conall's eyebrows shoot up.

"You know, the kid has probably been trying to work his way into his uncle's good graces over time, so he could have access to whatever he needed, whenever he needed it."

"I can't imagine Michael has any money worth stealing."

"No, but he gets a steady paycheck every month," Conall pointed out, "a paycheck he needs, and he can't live without it."

"Right." She winced as she thought about what would happen to Michael if he didn't get his monthly pension. "You're so right there."

"So, somebody's got to stop this punk and unfortunately his girlfriend too." He cast her a sideways glance. "I suppose you won't press charges, will you?"

She shook her head. "No, not over $75, or whatever it was. It may have been $100. Can I afford to lose it? Sure, but I'm not happy about it. I can at least withhold it from her final paycheck. More than that, I'm very unhappy about losing a staff member, putting myself back into a difficult staffing situation, but more than anything," she stated, fuming by now and looking hurt, "she put the animals at risk that were in my care, and that is unforgivable. As bad as it already is, I'm aware that it could have been so much worse."

Michael finally gotthe door unlocked but struggled to open it while in his wheelchair. Conall pushed it open and helped Michael get out of the way, and the two of them stepped inside. With a smile, Conall greeted the frail old man. "Hey, Michael. How are you doing?"

The old man shrugged. "I was doing better before you two showed up."

"But were you really?" he asked, looking at him intently. "Are you sure you aren't better off knowing the truth?"

His shoulders slumped, and he nodded. "I am, but, damn, it hurts."

Conall asked, "Is Page here now?"

Michael shook his head. "No. He took off out the back door."

"Of course," Conall muttered. "What we really need to know is just what all they've done and what they were prepared to do," Conall stated. "I'm not accusing anybody of anything, but I don't want to see you end up losing your pension because these two have found a way to take it out the minute it arrives."

Michael stared at them and winced. "I don't even know what I would do if that were the case," he replied bitterly. "I barely have enough to live on now. He's always asking for things I don't have,… food that I can't afford. He always wants to go downtown and pick up extras and treats. Plus he's a young man, wanting to go do things."

"He can go and do things all he wants," Conall noted, his tone hard, "but he needs to pay for it himself, and, in order to do that, he needs to get a job."

"Yeah, but then I lose him," Michael said, "and I get that, for you, it's probably not major."

Conall immediately held up his hands. "You don't know anything about me, so you can't make that judgment," he declared soberly. "I do understand, but I also see a lot of our older and disabled veterans getting abused or taken advantage of, often by family, and, I hate it. I get that some person's company is better than no company at all, but somebody you can't trust isn't a good answer."

Michael's face twisted, as he nodded. "When I was in the military," he shared, "it's all fine and dandy, and I was part of a big family. But, now that I'm not in the military anymore, everybody forgets. Sure, I might be lucky enough to have a few friends still in contact with me, but, over time, everybody forgets. Nobody cares, and none of it is important anymore." He was gulping now. "And that's—"

"Hard?" Conall filled in.

"Yeah, it is hard, and I don't like it. I never did like anything about it, and to think that now I'm stuck in that loneliness and heading down into more of it is even worse." He looked around at his house. "This is all I've got."

"Yes, and it's worth fighting for," Conall declared. "You can't allow Page to strip it all away from you."

"No, I can't," he agreed. "There'll be no food for me, and, if I ever get Bacchus back, there won't be food for him either."

Conall nodded. "Your nephew…"

"What?" Michael asked, staring at him shrewdly. "You might as well go on and say it."

"I don't have any easy way to say this," Conall began, "but it doesn't seem like he's too brilliant."

At that, the old man snorted. "No, he isn't, and neither is that girlfriend of his. I was worried about the two of them together because they complement each other, but not in a good way."

At that, Conall nodded. "I'm sorry about that too. Her family isn't impressed with the situation right now either."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I have no doubt her father is absolutely hopping mad over it. He's got no truck with lying and cheating at the best of times, but to think Melanie stole money from her work to give to Page? Well, that'll send Mel's father over the edge."

"It may already have," Bethany replied, as she looked down at him. "I don't know what Mel was thinking."

"She wasn't thinking," Michael replied. "She was just reacting. Somebody who she thinks loves her wanted something, and she was more than willing to do anything she could to keep him."

"It's a little more than that, I think," Conall added. "You're probably right to a certain extent, and young girls are very impressionable. They get a boyfriend and want to keep that boyfriend, but it is troublesome that she didn't seem to think anything was wrong with taking the money. And she's pretty upset that her paycheck will get tapped in order to recoup the money because, as far as she's concerned, your nephew should pay for it."

"Sure, he should, but you also know that he won't. Come on. Come on in," he said, as he slowly wheeled his way into the living room. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do now though."

"One is to change the password for all your banking," Conall stated bluntly.

Michael admitted, "I don't know how to do that."

"Do you have a laptop? Do you do online banking?"

He nodded. "Yeah, but my nephew's been doing it for me."

When Conall winced at that, Michael groaned. "You really think he'll strip me of my money?"

Conall nodded. "Right now Page is scared because we figured out what he and Mel were up to. Page doesn't want to get caught, and, with me here,… chances are Page is thinking I'll be some bad guy, who brings it all down on him, instead of seeing the reality that Page brought it all on himself." Conall shrugged. "You know what young men are like."

"Yeah, it's been a long time though," Michael muttered, "and I didn't think my nephew would be like that."

"If you have a laptop and a password," Conall said, "we can confirm that your bank balance is somewhere around what you think you should have and maybe set up an alert—in case any money is taken out that you didn't authorize."

"I had to go to the bank to authorize him to take out money as it is," Michael shared.

Conall frowned at him and then glanced at Bethany.

She was chewing her bottom lip. "Not a good sign."

"You think that's a bad idea, don't you?" Michael asked Bethany.

She nodded. "I suspect that, if he hasn't left town already, he's headed to the bank right now."

"I really can't afford to lose all my money." Michael started to fret.

Conall immediately pulled out his phone and asked for the bank name. He quickly brought up the contact information and was on the phone within minutes. When he finally got through to a bank manager, he put it on Speakerphone and had Michael identify himself.

"Hey, Michael. What's the matter?" the manager asked. "Your nephew is in here right now, getting what you needed. Did you need more?"

"No," Michael said. "I need you to stop him from getting whatever he's taking. I didn't authorize it."

Silence came on the other end. "You know you gave him access, right?"

"I gave him access so that he could help with paying the bills, but I never wanted him taking money like it's his," he replied in outrage.

"I don't know about that, but you gave him access, which means he can take out money," the bank manager explained. "I'm kind of helpless to stop him."

"And yet," Conall broke in, "if you thought there was an elder abuse situation happening right now, then surely you would do something about it."

"Sure, but I know Michael signed to let him onto the account, which means Page has every right to take out money. If you want that stopped, I need you to come down here and do something about it."

"He'll be there in ten minutes," Conall snapped, "but, in the meantime, you need to understand that a fraud is happening right under your nose and that Michael is notifying you of that right now. You are on notice. Hear it well that Page is actively defrauding Michael. His nephew is not allowed to take any money out of Michael's account as of right now, not until we get to the bottom of this."

"Who are you, and who are you to tell me anything? Until I have Michael here telling me himself, I won't listen to anybody else." Conall looked over at Michael and saw he was starting to get angry.

"Damn it, Stephen. You know me."

"Yeah, I do know you, and I also know you asked me to put your nephew on your account, which gave him access to your money."

"That was before I just found out that my nephew has been involved in stealing from the vet clinic," he bellowed. "It sounds like he and his girlfriend are getting ready to make a run for it, and, if he's there getting money out right now, I did not authorize it."

"You don't need to authorize it because he's already allowed to come here, to get money to pay bills, and to take out a certain amount of money because he needs to go get groceries."

Conall added, "Well, maybe you should find out how much money he's taking out right now and understand that, if you don't stop this, and Page does take out any money today, it will be on you, and you can bet the war department will be out to do an investigation of any abuse of our veterans."

"Hey, hey now, what? Now just hang on a minute here…"

"No," Conall snapped. "I don't know the full impact of what's going on here," he stated through gritted teeth, "but believe me that I will get to the bottom of the matter. If you are notified of a fraud in progress, and you don't do anything to stop it, the onus is on you, and you are liable for all the funds removed from that account, so you better go stop it." With that, he disconnected the call. "Let's go."

Michael had already wheeled himself to the door, but his hands were shaking. "I can't believe he would do that," He shook his head.

"Who? Your nephew?"

"No, Stephen,… the banker," he cried out.

"That's what happens when you hand over access to bank accounts to friends and family."

"Yes, but Stephen told me that Page would only be allowed to take out a reasonable amount."

"Maybe that's what he's been doing. Maybe he's been taking out a reasonable amount all along. When we get there, we'll find out how much and how often he's been withdrawing money."

It took a little bit of effort, but he managed to get Michael into his truck and got the wheelchair tucked into the bed in the back. He turned to look at Bethany.

She was already getting into her car, and she called out, "I'll meet you down there."

He nodded and headed to the driver's side. As he got in, Michael noted, "You sure got involved pretty quick."

"Yeah, well, I can't stand injustice."

"I don't want to say this place is corrupt as hell, but—"

"It's corrupt as hell?" Conall suggested.

"Yeah."

"I already saw Jake and the rest of those punk-ass kids shaking down the café for free coffee," Conall shared with a grimace, as he glanced at Michael. "So, the fact that nothing's being done about that already had me on full notice."

"And will anybody listen to you about those bullies and now my bank account?" Michael asked shrewdly.

He chuckled. "That's a good question, but I can raise a fair amount of hell. Plus I have a lot of people in my corner who don't like injustice either, especially when it comes to our veterans."

After a five-minute trip to the bank, when they got inside, the bank manager was yelling at somebody at the counter.

"I'm pretty sure we're about to find out that your account has just been emptied," Conall told Michael.

He paled. "Oh God, please not, please not."

The manager turned and now glared at Michael. "You gave him access to your account," he roared, "and we're not liable if he cleans it out."

"You told me that he'd only take a certain amount of money, for necessities only. You told me that," Michael roared back in fury. "Now you better make sure he didn't take all that money."

"He did take all of it," the bank teller interjected. "I did ask him why he was taking so much, but he flat-out told me that it was none of my business."

"Of course he did, and you gave it to him in cash, didn't you?" Conall asked, staring at them.

Michael groaned. "Even though you knew perfectly well that Page was just ripping me off? Thanks a lot for that, Stephen. Some friend you are. And you too, Henrietta."

She flushed bright red and turned to look at the bank manager. "I went to Stephen, and he told me to give Page the money."

"Was that before or after Stephen got off the phone call with us?" Conall asked.

"After."

Conall faced Stephen. "So, now we will open a formal complaint against the bank, and we will do our best to try and shut you down. The rest of you guys might as well start looking for new jobs, unless of course you are part of the fraud Stephen just perpetuated. In which case, you'll go to jail alongside your boss here."

Henrietta and the other staff stared in horror, as they heard this.

Conall shook his head. "We called Stephen to let him know that Michael's nephew was coming here to strip out the account, and he not only chose not to stop it, he personally approved it."

"I went to him and told him that it was an unusually large amount, far more than Michael ever intended, and Stephen told me that because Michael had signed our authorization and had given permission for Page to access money from the account, the amount didn't matter, and we had to give him the amount requested."

"I see, and what about the fact that Michael was reassured that there would be safeguards in place, and that his nephew wouldn't do this?" Conall asked the teller.

She flushed. "That is why," she replied painfully, "I went and checked with the manager." She turned and looked at Stephen. "And you know that."

He glared at her. "You don't get to throw me to the wolves because you're the one who handed out the money. You know the safeguards too."

Astonishment flashed on Henrietta's face. "Now you're blaming me?" she asked in disbelief, and thankfully a voice of reason was introduced into the chaos, as Bethany spoke up.

"First off, how much money is left? Does Michael have enough to live on for the next month, until he gets his pension? Or did you manage to hand over absolutely everything he's spent his lifetime earning? Just how much money did you give the kid, and how long ago did he leave?" She turned to look at Conall. "We need to contact the sheriff."

"To stress my point," Stephen sputtered, "Page was listed on the account, so he had every right to take the money out of the bank, and it's not theft."

"It absolutely is theft," Conall countered, turning to look at him. "You were specifically notified of the fraudulent withdrawal attempt, and you not only chose not to stop the transaction, you directed an employee to complete it. Also safeguards were in place that should have prevented it, safeguards you made sure you didn't enforce. So, the real question I have is this.… How much of that money were you getting as a kickback?"

He flushed. "I wasn't getting any of it."

"Right, as if anybody will believe that." He pulled out his phone and immediately started texting like mad to Badger, updating him.

When Badger phoned, he roared into Conall's ear, "Are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious." He eyed Stephen. "The bank manager let the nephew strip Michael's account, knowing full well it was against his wishes," he stated in frustration. "Stephen, the manager, had been informed over the phone by Michael, yet refused Michael's request, saying Page had every right to that money. Yet even after that, while we were on the way here with Michael, the bank teller went to the manager to state that the nephew wanted to withdraw an unusually large amount and asked if she should contact Michael about it—which of course she should have, without even needing to ask."

As his voice carried throughout the bank, the teller, Henrietta, flushed. "Excuse me, I know you are on the phone, but I want you to know that the last time I did do that," she explained, "I'm the one who got in trouble."

"Now you're in trouble again," Stephen, the manager, declared, with a sneer, "because you're the one who let Page have the money."

"On your say so," Henrietta replied, almost in tears.

Badger was still in the background on the phone, listening to the finger-pointing. "They're really a lovely outfit, aren't they?"

"It's awful when small community banks are making money off the backs of common folks. I wouldn't be at all surprised if Stephen didn't take a kickback from this."

Michael shook his head. "I didn't have enough money for there to be a kickback," he stated sorrowfully, "but I need that money to put food on the table and to pay my utility bills, which…" Michael asked in a panic, "Did he… Did Page pay the property taxes last week?"

Henrietta looked at him and slowly shook her head. "I asked him about that, and he told me that you would pay online."

He stared at her. "Oh my God, no. So you let him take the money for my property taxes too?"

She turned and looked at her boss. "You see? That's what happens when you abuse people like this."

"Not me," Stephen argued, then turned and sneered at Michael. "We told you that your nephew would have complete access."

"You also assured me that he would only be allowed to withdraw money that was reasonable and fair."

"You trusted the wrong person," Stephen stated, with a shrug, as he turned and walked back to his office. He added, "If you're thinking about causing any kind of trouble, don't bother. It won't do you any good." And, with that, he went inside his office and slammed the door.

Into the phone, Conall asked Badger, "Did you hear that?"

"Oh, I heard it," Badger replied, his tone turning lethal. "We'll see about that." Badger could be heard clicking on his keyboard.

"A few other hoods are working in this town unchecked," Conall shared, "so I'm guessing Stephen's counting on the local authorities to back him up, just leaving Michael here to twist in the wind."

"Of course, and what's Michael supposed to do for dinner tonight?" Badger asked.

"I would say, absolutely nothing, except for what he's got at home."

Michael shook his head. "I ain't got nothing at home, nothing. Page was supposed to go shopping, and I've been bugging him to go for a couple days, but he didn't."

"Right," Bethany muttered, rubbing her face.

Conall frowned at her. "Maybe Page didn't pick up his girlfriend, so that he wouldn't have to share the money," Conall suggested.

She nodded, then asked Michael, "What about your car? Did you give that to him?"

"No, I didn't give it to him," Michael replied, hanging his head. "There was always hope that maybe one day I could get the vehicle adapted, so I could drive again." At this point, he was beyond himself in grief. "But he has been using it, so I suppose he'll say that, just because he's been using it, it's his."

Conall added, "He can say what he wants. If it's not his, now it's stolen because you didn't give him permission to take the money and run, did you?" Conall asked Michael.

"No, I told him to go for the groceries that we needed."

"Right," Conall said, speaking into the phone again. "Did you hear that?"

Badger replied, "Yeah, give me the license plate numbers on it."

Conall quickly gave Badger the information, as Michael passed it on. "I don't suppose you have any idea which direction he's going?" Conall asked Michael.

Henrietta, the teller, spoke up. "He was talking about California."

"Of course he was," Conall muttered.

Badger said, "I'm on it," and he quickly disconnected.

Henrietta looked over at Conall. "Does that mean you've got pull that you can use to help Michael? Honest to God, Michael, I swear I went and asked my boss, but he told me that I had to give Page the money."

Michael stared at her. "You also know that you didn't have to do what Stephen said. And that, even if you had given Page any sort of push back, he would have backed down," he muttered, glaring at her.

She flushed and shook her head. "I wondered about that, but Page's been different the last few times he's been in. He's become a little more arrogant, a little more… cocky somehow, definitely not nice."

"Of course not," Michael muttered, pulling on his chin. "He was making plans." Michael shook his head. "Print me off a statement, showing how much money he took and how much I have left."

She hesitated.

"What?" He glared at her. "Give it to me straight. I don't have time or patience for any games right now."

"Nothing's left, Michael. Page took everything out of the account."

If there was ever a moment that Conall could see a man wanting desperately to cry, yet holding it back, this was it. He put his hand on Michael's shoulder. "We'll get him."

"I don't really want to punish him," he whispered, looking up at Conall, "but I surely could use those few dollars back."

"Yeah, you sure could," Conall agreed, "but I mean it. We'll get him."

Henrietta said, "Let me print off the statement for you, so you have the numbers down."

Conall added, "You should also know that Page and Mel have also stolen from the veterinary clinic too."

Her gaze widened as she stared at Bethany, who just nodded.

"Not a large amount of money," Bethany clarified, "but between him and Melanie, they ended up emptying out the petty cash. They caused a disturbance as a cover, which is how Michael's War Dog went missing. Once Page got that money from my clinic, he apparently proceeded to implement his plan to leave and obviously cleaned out Michael's accounts on his way out of town," she explained.

Henrietta moaned. "Good God, it's really such a small amount of money to have done something like that."

"But sadly, in this case, that small amount of money is everything for Michael," Bethany stated, "which you know all too well."

Ashamed and upset, Henrietta headed over to her teller station and proceeded to click away on the keyboard. As soon as she was done, she brought a printout to Michael. "Here you go."

He looked down at it, expecting what he might see, yet it was still a shock for it to be there in black and white. When the tears slowly formed on his cheeks, Conall again placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You'll be okay."

Michael shook his head. "How will I ever be okay again?" he muttered.

"For one thing, we need to take Page's name and access off the account. That way, when your pension deposit drops in again, Page can't continuously take more money." Conall looked over at Henrietta, with a stern expression. "How was it set up? Because we need to get that stopped too."

She winced. "I don't know that I can do that without Page's signature."

"In that case," Bethany stated, "we need to open a new account right now, and we need to call and get the deposit changed to ensure the money goes into the correct account."

Henrietta brightened at that. "Now that I'm sure you can do." She raced back over, and it took a little bit to open another account.

Conall looked over at Bethany, as she continued to stay with them. "Are you sure you want to stay?"

"Yeah, I'm in for the long haul," she stated grimly. "I didn't think Page and Mel were that smart."

"Yeah," Conall replied, "that's about how I feel right now too. I thought he wasn't too smart, but he knows the pension goes into this account every month, and he didn't have to do much to access it either. He can just steal and keep on moving."

"Then what?" Michael asked, staring at them. "That's no way to live, and he's hardly thirty yet."

"Yeah, but, at the rate he's going,… he won't make it much past thirty either."

Michael nodded slowly. "You're right. He'll get in trouble, won't he?"

"Yeah, he sure will. The money won't keep him very long, and, for all we know, he needed this money for something else too."

"Do you know if he has any friends?" Bethany asked Michael.

"Just that set of rotten ones, Jake and his merry band."

"Of course Page would be connected to the punks in town," Conall said, with a groan. By the time they were finished at the bank, with a new account set up, Conall had already texted Badger the routing and new account numbers so that Kat could deal with it. "Now that I can really get behind. Kat has some major connections."

Michael asked, "Who is Kat? What does Kat do, and who calls herself Kat anyway?"

Conall chuckled. "She's a specialist in prosthetics, and she works with the Veteran's Department a lot. So, if anybody can get us to the right people to confirm that your pension deposit gets changed to your new account right now, it's her. We'll also see if we can get a lawyer for you."

"For what?" Michael asked.

"To get the money that Page stole back from the bank," Conall replied, with a smile. "I doubt your nephew will have very much of the cash still on him, but he'll learn very, very quickly that the amount of money he took doesn't go very far. Not to mention we need to file a stolen vehicle report."

"A damn sad day," Michael noted, with a nod, "when your own kin steals from you."

"An even sadder day when your bank doesn't do anything to stop it, when you are asking them to do just that," Bethany stated loudly, glaring at Henrietta.

Henrietta looked at her and nodded. "But you must understand that I'm also limited by what I can do. Michael did sign to allow his nephew to have access."

"Of course I did," Michael wailed. "I'm in a damn wheelchair. What else am I supposed to do?"

She winced and nodded. "I know. I understand that, and, in most cases, it would have been fine."

"But not in this case because of Page, is that what you mean?" Conall asked.

She nodded. "That's exactly what I mean. We haven't seen a case like this in a long time, but it does happen."

"It shouldn't," Michael stated bitterly. "Family is supposed to be there for each other."

"All too often, they rip off each other instead," Henrietta conceded, "and I'm sorry for my part in it. I'm doing everything I can to help you right now, but I don't know what else I can do."

Michael muttered to himself, sinking into his chair.

Bethany looked over at Henrietta and nodded. "I don't know how this will come out, but make sure that you do everything you can. Otherwise it'll come back on you."

She nodded. "I did get permission from the manager before I released the funds," she reiterated. "I wasn't happy about doing that, but Stephen told me that we had absolutely no other way to handle it because Michael had already signed the documents."

"So, there are no checks and balances, despite what Michael was told by Stephen?" Conall asked. "Especially if you know that somebody is up to no good, setting out to steal from another person, yet you complete the transaction anyway?"

Henrietta shrugged. "It depends on the bank's policies," she murmured, "and, yeah, in case you're wondering, this is my last day."

"Was it intended to be your last day?" Conall asked.

"No," she replied, with a sheen of tears in her eyes, "but I don't need any more of this or of him," she shared, tossing a glance toward the closed office door.

"It's probably just as well, and you'll be even better for these mitigating actions you did after the theft, but it won't stop you from being part of the investigation," Conall warned her.

She winced and nodded. "I figured as much. That's the way it works, right?"

Conall gave her a crooked smile. "So hold tight, tell the truth, and see how you fare in the end."

"I didn't do anything," she snapped, glaring at him.

"No, except that you did give Page the money. Yeah, I get it. You asked Stephen if that was a thing you had to do, and your boss said yes, which was unfortunate, but you still might have to testify."

"It's not a huge amount of money though."

At that, Michael started to huff and puff. "Maybe not to you," he yelled, staring at her in shock, "but that's my food, my utilities, my property taxes. I can't just walk to a shop and get something anytime I want, you know?" he said, fuming. "Not in a wheelchair and not without any money."

"Which is also why we'll get your money back," Bethany murmured.

Michael looked at her, but even Conall could see his rheumy eyes tear up, as he shrugged. "That's one part of the pain," he muttered. "The other part? Well, that'll take longer to get over."

That was hard because there was no way to misunderstand what he meant. Betrayal by family was one of the worst things that could happen.

Unfortunately it was also one of the most common.