Chapter 3 - The Blue Ledger
The flashlight beam cut through the darkness.
Mercer pushed Grandma and me behind a filing cabinet.
Agent Ortiz moved to the opposite wall and called for backup.
The footsteps stopped outside.
No one breathed.
Then something slid beneath the door.
A blue notebook.
Mercer stared at it.
"What the hell?"
He opened the door.
The corridor was empty.
By the time officers searched the building and surrounding property, whoever had entered was gone.
The two patrol officers outside had not been harmed.
Someone had simply disconnected the building's electrical box and triggered a false alarm near the rear fence, drawing them away.
The blue ledger was real.
And someone wanted us to have it.
That frightened Mercer more than if they had stolen it.
"Why return evidence?" I asked.
"Maybe because it hurts someone they want hurt."
Inside were handwritten entries spanning six years.
Grandpa had documented every questionable transaction he discovered.
Dates.
Amounts.
Account numbers.
Signatures.
Some pages contained notes like:
CHARLES CLAIMS TEMPORARY.
PAIGE PREPARED DOCUMENT.
REPAYMENT NEVER MADE.
Then, near the end, another name appeared.
MARTIN VALE.
I knew him.
Dad's business partner.
Best friend.
The man who gave the speech at Grandpa's funeral.
According to the ledger, Martin had helped create several shell companies.
I remembered him hugging me after the service.
"Your dad's lucky to have daughters like you."
The hypocrisy made me sick.
Ortiz photographed every page.
"This could give us probable cause for financial records."
"Could?"
"We still verify everything."
Mercer examined the last entries.
One was dated two days before Grandpa died.
CHARLES KNOWS I CHANGED CONTROL PROVISIONS.
The next:
HE THREATENED TO HAVE ME DECLARED INCOMPETENT.
And finally:
ABBY MUST KNOW.
No entry followed.
Dad had always told us Grandpa's heart attack came without warning.
Now I wondered what else had come before it.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I asked Mercer.
"I'm thinking we don't speculate."
"That's detective language for yes."
"It's detective language for evidence first."
Grandma looked pale.
"Benjamin had heart problems."
"Did Dad know Grandpa changed the trust?"
She nodded.
"They argued."
"When?"
"The night before he died."
Everyone turned.
"You never told us that."
"I didn't hear what they said."
"But you heard them arguing?"
"Yes."
Grandma sat heavily.
"Charles left around ten. Benjamin came upstairs after midnight. He wouldn't tell me what happened."
The next morning Grandpa collapsed in the kitchen.
His death had been certified as cardiac arrest.
Nothing suspicious.
No autopsy beyond standard hospital procedures.
Mercer wrote everything down.
Later that night, I stayed at Grandma's because neither of us wanted her alone.
Mercer arranged patrol checks.
I slept badly.
At 2:17 a.m., I woke to voices downstairs.
I reached for my phone.
Then I recognized one voice.
Paige.
I walked to the top of the stairs.
She stood in the foyer.
Grandma faced her.
"You need to leave."
"Grandma, listen to me."
"No."
"You don't understand."
"I understand plenty."
Paige's shoulders dropped.
For once, she didn't look polished or cold.
She looked exhausted.
"Abby wasn't supposed to get hurt."
That sentence made me step forward.
"You brought the papers."
Paige looked up.
"Abby."
"You held the pen."
"I know."
"You watched him hit me."
Her eyes filled.
"I thought he would stop."
"After what? The first swing?"
She flinched.
"I was scared."
"So was I."
"I know."
"No. You don't get to say that."
Grandma stood between us.
Paige whispered, "Dad is in trouble."
"Good."
"You don't understand how much."
"Then explain."
She looked toward the windows.
"Not here."
I almost laughed.
"You're worried about privacy now?"
"Martin is watching him."
That caught me.
"Martin Vale?"
Paige nodded.
"Dad owes him money."
"How much?"
"I don't know anymore."
"Try."
"Over two million."
Grandma gasped.
Paige continued.
"Dad used money from the trust because Martin told him they could replace it after a development deal closed. The deal failed."
"So he stole more."
"Yes."
"And you helped."
Silence.
"Yes."
It was the first honest word my sister had given me.
"Why?"
"At first because Dad told me Grandpa had approved it."
"And later?"
Paige began crying.
"Because by then my signature was everywhere."
There was no redemption in that answer.
But there was truth.
She had helped create the trap and then discovered she was inside it.
"Why force me to sign?"
"If you transferred your controlling interest, Dad could refinance the North Creek property."
"And pay Martin."
"Partly."
"Using my inheritance."
Paige whispered, "Yes."
"Why did Dad hit me?"
Her jaw trembled.
"Because you recognized the transfer clause."
I remembered.
Before the violence, I had skimmed the paperwork and asked why one paragraph said relinquish all beneficial and voting interests.
Paige told me it was standard.
I refused.
Dad became angry.
Then the bat appeared.
"Where did the bat come from?"
"Grandpa kept it beside the fireplace."
That somehow made everything worse.
I had seen that bat a hundred times.
Grandpa used to take us to minor-league games.
Players signed it after his retirement ceremony.
Dad turned a family keepsake into a weapon.
"Who returned the ledger?" I asked.
Paige's face changed.
"I don't know."
"You knew it was missing."
She looked toward Grandma.
"Dad took it."
"When?"
"The day after Grandpa died."
Grandma staggered backward.
"He knew about the room?"
"Yes."
"Then why were the other files there?"
"He only wanted the ledger."
"Why return it now?"
Paige stared at me.
"Because Dad doesn't have it anymore."
"Who does?"
She whispered, "Martin."
A car passed outside.
Paige flinched violently.
"He's been threatening us."
"Then go to the police."
"I can't."
"You absolutely can."
"He has copies of everything."
"So?"
"He has recordings."
"What recordings?"
Paige looked at Grandma.
Then at me.
"Of Dad talking about Grandpa."
My skin went cold.
"What about Grandpa?"
She shook her head.
"I never heard the full recording."
"Then what did you hear?"
"Enough."
I stepped closer.
"Say it."
Paige's voice dropped.
"Martin told Dad, 'If Benjamin's death ever gets looked at again, you're finished.'"
Grandma grabbed the banister.
"Paige."
"I don't know what it means."
"You know exactly what it sounds like."
"No. I don't."
Her phone buzzed.
She looked at the screen.
All the color disappeared from her face.
"What?"
Paige didn't answer.
I grabbed the phone.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
One message.
YOU SHOULD HAVE KEPT YOUR MOUTH SHUT.
Below it was a photograph.
Taken through Grandma's living-room window.
Taken seconds earlier.
It showed Paige standing beside me.
Grandma behind us.
Someone was watching the house.
Mercer arrived within twelve minutes.
Patrol cars searched the neighborhood.
Nothing.
Paige finally agreed to go with him.
Before leaving, she stopped beside me.
"Abby."
"What?"
"If Dad asks you to meet him, don't."
"Believe me."
"I mean it."
She looked terrified.
"He isn't the one I'm afraid of anymore."
The next morning, Dad called.
I almost ignored it.
Mercer had told me not to engage without informing him.
So I put Dad on speaker while Mercer recorded from another phone.
Dad's voice sounded weak.
"Abby."
I said nothing.
"I'm sorry."
I had imagined hearing those words all night.
They did nothing.
"You broke my ribs."
"I lost control."
"You picked up a bat."
"I know."
"You swung it."
Silence.
"I know."
"Why are you calling?"
"I need to see you."
Paige's warning echoed.
"No."
"I can explain everything."
"Explain it to police."
"I can't."
"Then we're done."
"Abby, Martin killed your grandfather."
Mercer looked sharply at me.
My pulse jumped.
Dad continued.
"And if you don't meet me before tonight, he's going to kill Paige too."
A loud knock struck Grandma's front door.
We both turned.
No one was expected.
Mercer reached for his weapon.
May you like
Then a man's voice called from outside.
"Abby? My name is Martin Vale."
