Chapter 15 - The Wrong Ledger
The blue ledger felt suddenly useless in Emma's hands.
Wrong ledger.
She stared at the words in the photograph until Marcus took the phone away.
"He's trying to scare you."
"It's working."
Adrian sat beside Vivian while paramedics prepared to take her to the hospital.
"Could there be another ledger?" he asked.
Vivian looked exhausted.
"Richard kept two sets of records."
Emma turned. "You knew that?"
"I knew Thomas believed it. One was financial. The other was personal."
"Personal how?"
"Names. Favors. Bribes. Blackmail."
Adrian swore under his breath.
Vivian continued. "Thomas called it the Red Book."
"Where is it?"
"I don't know."
Emma almost snapped at her, then stopped.
Vivian had taken a bullet after recording Thomas.
Trust was not forgiveness.
But it was a start.
Lauren appeared in the doorway with a blanket around her shoulders.
"Nora knew where it was."
Emma looked at her.
"How?"
"The night she called me, she said, 'The red one isn't in the house.'"
Marcus leaned forward. "Anything else?"
Lauren closed her eyes, trying to remember.
"She said, 'He put it where everyone can see it but nobody looks.'"
Emma's mind raced.
Her mother loved puzzles only when they were practical.
Where could everyone see something but never look?
Then Emma remembered the photograph from Nora's desk.
The old picture of Nora, Adrian, and Richard outside the villa.
On the back: THE ORIGINAL LEDGER IS HERE.
Not inside.
Here.
Emma opened the photo on her phone.
Zoomed in.
Behind the three people stood a stone garden statue.
A woman holding a book.
The book was painted red.
Emma looked through the kitchen windows toward the dark garden.
"The statue."
Adrian frowned. "What statue?"
"Your father's garden statue."
His face changed.
"It was moved after he died."
"Where?"
"To the cemetery."
Emma grabbed her coat.
Marcus blocked the door.
"Absolutely not. Gavin is out there."
Emma looked him straight in the eye.
May you like
"Then he's already going to the cemetery too."
The red book sounded like the kind of thing rich people invented in movies. Emma wished it were fiction. Fiction was easier. Fiction ended when the writer decided it should.
