I didn't sleep.
Neither did Megan.
We spent the night going through every record Evelyn had given us, looking for anything that might identify the ledger.
At 4:26 in the morning, I found a reference.
It was buried inside an old property transfer.
A handwritten notation appeared beside a parcel number.
Ledger B.
I photographed it.
Then another notation.
Page 118.
I called Evelyn at six.
She answered sounding as though she'd been awake.
“Did you find something?”
“Yes.”
I sent her the photograph.
She called back within seconds.
“That handwriting is old.”
“Can you identify it?”
“Possibly.”
“Who?”
“Your grandfather.”
I sat at the kitchen table.
“Did you know about a ledger?”
“I knew there were references to one.”
“Where is it?”
“If I knew, I would have told you.”
“Brooke has it.”
“Are you sure?”
“My mother said she does.”
Evelyn was quiet.
“Then we need to be careful.”
“Why?”
“If that ledger contains what your mother claims, it may explain the entire financial structure.”
“Can it prove fraud?”
“It could.”
“Against Brooke?”
“Possibly.”
“My mother?”
“Possibly.”
“Anyone else?”
“Yes.”
The last word made me uneasy.
“Who?”
“I don't know yet.”
At eight, Daniel Mercer arrived at my house.
He examined the photograph.
“Where did you get this?”
“My mother.”
“Did she say Brooke has the ledger?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know where Brooke keeps it?”
“She didn't say.”
Daniel looked around the room.
“Don't try to retrieve it yourself.”
“I won't.”
“I mean it.”
“I understand.”
He looked at me.
“Your sister knows we're investigating.”
“I figured.”
“She may try to move evidence.”
“Then what can we do?”
“Wait.”
I hated that answer.
But I knew he was right.
By noon, my mother called again.
This time she sounded exhausted.
“She wants to meet you.”
“Brooke?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“She wouldn't tell me.”
“What did she say?”
“She said you'll know.”
I didn't.
Then a message arrived.
Come to the old train station at six. Alone.
I showed Daniel.
He immediately said no.
“You're not going.”
“Why?”
“Because it's exactly what someone sends when they want control over the location.”
“What if she has the ledger?”
“We can arrange a controlled meeting.”
I nodded.
The meeting was set.
At six, I sat in my car near the station while Daniel and another investigator watched from nearby.
The old platform was nearly empty.
Snow covered the tracks.
A single lamp flickered above the entrance.
At 6:12, Brooke appeared.
She was wearing a dark coat and carrying a canvas bag.
She looked tired.
Not frightened.
Tired.
She stopped several feet away.
“You brought someone.”
“I didn't.”
“You always were better at lying than I was.”
I said nothing.
She looked at the parked cars.
“Police?”
“Why are you here?”
She smiled without humor.
“You want the ledger.”
“Yes.”
“Of course you do.”
“Where is it?”
She held the bag against her side.
“Safe.”
“What do you want?”
“My life back.”
I almost laughed.
“You stole mine.”
Her face hardened.
“You think you know everything.”
“No.”
“I did what I had to do.”
“You stole sixty-three thousand dollars.”
“I borrowed it.”
“You forged documents.”
“I used documents that already existed.”
“You used my identity.”
“You had everything.”
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
She shook her head.
“You were always going to get everything.”
“That's not true.”
“It is.”
“No one gave me anything.”
“You got the business.”
“I built it.”
“You got the properties.”
“I paid for them.”
“You got Dad.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“You were always his favorite.”
I shook my head.
“That isn't why you did this.”
“You don't know me.”
“I know you lied to our parents.”
“I protected them.”
“You manipulated them.”
“I protected them from the truth.”
“What truth?”
She looked at the tracks.
Then back at me.
“The properties.”
“What about them?”
“They weren't yours.”
I frowned.
“I bought them.”
“You bought what was already tied to our family.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
She opened the canvas bag.
Inside was a thick black ledger.
My heart began pounding.
“That's it.”
“Yes.”
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“What do you want?”
She closed the bag.
“I want immunity.”
I stared at her.
“You're not in a position to negotiate that.”
“You think?”
She pulled out her phone.
“Every page is photographed.”
I said nothing.
“If I disappear, the files go out.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere.”
“You don't have to threaten me.”
“I have to threaten someone.”
“Why?”
“Because nobody listened before.”
She looked at me.
“Not Mom. Not Dad. Not you.”
I felt anger rise.
“You could have told me.”
“And you would have believed me?”
I didn't answer.
She smiled sadly.
“That’s what I thought.”
She took a step closer.
“Grandpa left more than property.”
“What did he leave?”
“A system.”
I stared at her.
“What system?”
“Names. Accounts. Transfers. Shell companies.”
She lowered her voice.
“People who owed him.”
I looked at the bag.
“And you used it.”
“I learned how.”
“For what?”
“To survive.”
I shook my head.
“You're not telling me everything.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if I tell you, you'll understand why I did it.”
“Try me.”
She looked away.
For the first time, I saw fear in her face.
Not guilt.
Fear.
“He had someone killed.”
The words were almost inaudible.
I stared at her.
“Who?”
She shook her head.
“Brooke.”
“I can't.”
“You brought the ledger.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me.”
She backed away.
“Not here.”
“Where?”
“Tomorrow.”
She turned.
“Wait.”
She stopped.
“What happened to the money?”
She looked over her shoulder.
“Some of it paid debts.”
“Whose?”
She didn't answer.
“Brooke.”
She whispered:
“Mom's.”
Then she walked away.
I waited until she disappeared before returning to the car.
Daniel was there.
“What did she give you?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you see the ledger?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“With her.”
“What did she say?”
I told him.
He listened without interrupting.
Then he said:
“We need your mother to tell us what she knows.”
I nodded.
When I got home, my mother was waiting.
She was sitting in the dark living room.
She stood when I entered.
“Did you see her?”
“Yes.”
“Did she have it?”
“Yes.”
My mother closed her eyes.
“She shouldn't have that.”
“Why?”
“Because your grandfather wasn't the only person named in it.”
I waited.
“Who else?”
My mother looked at me.
“Your father.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: My Father’s Name in the Ledger Forced Me to Question the One Person Who Had Finally Begun Telling Me the Truth
The Christmas Invitation My Parents Never Answered Left Me Wondering Who Had Decided I Wasn’t Worth Showing Up For
Part 7 of 20
