Clara found a forged receipt for forty thousand dollars

the cold leather cover.

“Gary,” I said, my voice catching in my throat.

He leaned over my shoulder, his breath warm against my neck.

“Is that the one we were looking for?” he asked.

I opened the ledger to the first page, where Martha had written the date in her perfect, flowing cursive.

Every single utility bill, grocery receipt, and tax payment from the continue reading …