Arthur took a deep breath, sitting down across from me.

“Marcus took everything from me ten years ago,” Arthur said, his eyes darkening. “My business, my reputation, and my son.”

“Your son?” I asked.

“He worked for Marcus, just like Thomas,” Arthur said softly. “When he wanted out, Marcus made sure he couldn’t speak.”

I felt a chill run down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold rain.

“Is he going to kill Thomas?” I asked.

“Not yet,” Arthur said, pointing at the ledger. “Not as long as you have that. It’s the only thing keeping Thomas alive.”

I opened the ledger, the old paper creaking under my fingers.

Rows of names, dates, and dollar amounts were written in neat, precise handwriting.

I recognized some of the names of local businessmen, men who bought breakfast from my cart every morning.

At the very back of the book, tucked into a small pocket in the leather, were three folded pieces of paper.

I pulled them out and unfolded them.

They were property deeds for several parcels of land on the outskirts of Oakhill, all signed by Marcus and co-signed by Thomas.