Snyder exited the room, carrying a duffel bag out of the room with his clothes.
Cutler said, “Hey, Snyder. What happened to you?”
Snyder touched the bandage on his head. “I fell down the stairs.” That was the truth, or close enough to it for Sarge.
Snyder entered Emergency Ops with Insta-Starbucks in hand. Amanda acknowledged him with a grunt as cheery as she ever got on Monday Mornings. “Get busy, Private. I want something on that rapist in Atlanta turned up yesterday.”
He set his steaming mug down beside his workstation. “Why are you always like this the Monday after we visit Nero’s Tower?”
Amanda hung her head. “You might as well know. I’m losing.”
“You haven’t lost that much.”
“It adds up. My ICA is over $270,000 in the red.”
Snyder whistled. “What happened?”
“I got behind, and I keep playing, and I need to get even. I just can’t seem to win.”
Snyder nodded. Taxpayers footed the bill in order to keep the ICA system afloat, but that much debt would hinder her ability to get a mortgage or other loans. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.”
“We could try skipping the casino just this weekend, so I can figure something out.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “What are you going to figure out?”
“A way to beat the house.”
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