I moved it aside, and she reached under the bottom shelf for her bag.

She turned the bag over on the table.

A hairbrush, a bottle of aspirin, a bank envelope, and a red leather ledger about the size of a paperback book.

“It was locked in his desk,” she said.

“He keeps the key on the ring with his truck keys.

I took it because I wanted to know what a man thinks is worth locking up.”

I opened it.