It was filled with fountain pens, leather-bound notebooks, and neatly stacked documents.

I sifted through them, my fingers moving as quickly as possible.

There was nothing of value there.

I opened the second drawer.

It held a silver revolver and a box of ammunition, but no ledger.

My breath was coming in short, shallow gasps.

The third drawer was locked.

I tugged at the silver handle, but it wouldn’t budge.

I looked around the desk, desperately searching for a key.

My eyes fell on a small crystal tray near the laptop.

Inside lay a single brass key.

My fingers fumbled as I picked it up, nearly dropping it onto the desk.

I inserted the key into the lock of the third drawer.

It turned with a heavy, satisfying click.

I pulled the drawer open.

Resting on top of a stack of manila folders was a small, black leather book with a gold clasp.

The ledger.

My hand shook as I reached in and took it.

It was heavier than I expected, the leather cool against my palm.

The gold clasp gleamed in the dim light of the room.