I looked toward the glass door.

The hallway was completely empty, the lights dimmed.

I took a small metal letter opener from the desk drawer.

Carefully, I slipped the point of the blade under the seam of the leather lining.

The thread popped easily with a soft ripping sound.

I peeled the dark fabric back.

Inside was a small, black ledger book, no larger than my hand.

Its cover was worn, the corners frayed from use.

I pulled it out and opened it to the first page.

The pages were filled with neat, handwritten columns of numbers and dates.

But these weren’t Sterling’s usual accounts.

At the top of the first page, there was a name written in faded blue ink.

The name was Carmichael.

I felt a cold knot form in my stomach.

I began to flip through the pages quickly.

The dates started six months ago, right around the time Tristan and I had broken up.

Beside each transaction was a code.

FED-NY-4.

ST-OFF-9.

I recognized the first code from my previous research.

It was a reference to the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s regional task force.