“Go ahead,” he said.

“By the time they write down your statement, Thomas will be buried under five feet of wet earth.”

“You won’t find him.”

“And you will have to live with that for the rest of your life.”

I looked down at the thick ledger on the table.

The pages were filled with names, dates, and numbers.

It was proof of millions of dollars in stolen funds and illegal land deals.

If I gave it to Marcus, Thomas might live, but Marcus would go free.

Thomas would probably go back to working for him.

The cycle of lies and crime would never end.

But if I kept it, my husband would die tonight.

“I need time,” I said.

“You don’t have time,” Marcus replied.

“You have one hour.”

“Bring the book and the documents to the old kiln behind the workshop.”

“Come alone.”

“If I see a police cruiser, or if Arthur is with you, the deal is off.”

The line went dead.

The silence in the cabin returned, heavier than before.

I slowly lowered the phone from my ear.