The message read: If I don’t come back, tell Lucas the truth about the ledger.”

The room seemed to narrow around one word.

Ledger.

I knew precisely which ledger she meant.

It was the bound black book my father had kept in a locked cabinet for twenty-seven years, recording cash payments, names and dates.

The kind of book that could send men to prison and leave families without answers.

“Where is it?” I asked.

“That’s what we’d like to know.