Chapter 3 - The Cold Light of Morning
At seven-fifteen the next morning, eighty miles east in Chester County, Melissa pulled her luxury SUV into the drive-thru of the upscale artisanal café on Lancaster Avenue.
She ordered her usual fifteen-dollar double-shot caramel macchiato and an organic pastry, chatting loudly on her Bluetooth headset with her sister about the dramatic Christmas dinner.
"I swear, Brenda, she’s probably sitting in a cheap motel right now waiting for Daniel to beg her to come back," Melissa chuckled, reaching out her manicured hand to tap her sleek black card against the contactless terminal. "She won't last forty-eight hours without her routines."
The terminal beeped twice, sharp and shrill.
*Transaction Declined.*
Melissa frowned, pulling the card back. "Try it again. Your machine is acting up."
The young barista ran it again. A long, dull chime echoed from the register.
*Declined — Contact Issuer.*
"Ma'am, it says issuer hold," the girl said politely.
Melissa rolled her eyes, scoffing. "Ridiculous. Let me give you my other card." She fished out the silver rewards card tied to Daniel's company account.
*Transaction Declined.*
Five cars behind her began tapping their horns. Flustered and burning with irritation, Melissa had to dig through the glove box for crumpled one-dollar bills and loose change to pay for her coffee.
She sped home to Sycamore Crest, tires skidding slightly on the slushy driveway. She slammed the front door, yelling for Daniel.
"Daniel! Did you forget to transfer the money between accounts again? Both cards just bounced in front of half the neighborhood!"
Daniel appeared at the top of the stairs, still in his bathrobe, rubbing his eyes. He had his phone pressed to his ear, his expression pale and confused.
"I'm on hold with Chase right now," he muttered. "The gas station rejected my card twenty minutes ago when I went to pick up milk. Then my phone buzzed with six alerts."
"What alerts?" Melissa demanded, dropping her designer bag on the kitchen island.
"The heating company sent an automated cancellation notice. They say the primary account for the winter prepay fuel plan was closed overnight. And the Audi lease payment bounced back at six a.m."
Melissa stared at him, her lipsticked mouth slightly open. "What do you mean closed? That's ridiculous. Your mother said she left last night, but she doesn't know how to move money. She doesn't even know her login credentials without the little notebook in her drawer!"
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Daniel swallowed hard, his voice suddenly sounding thin. "The little notebook isn't in her drawer, Mel. I checked ten minutes ago. Her dresser is empty. Her jewelry box is gone. And Chase's automated voice just told me my user privileges were severed by the primary account holder at twelve-forty-eight this morning."
The living room fell dead silent, save for the rhythmic humming of the refrigerator.
