He hung up.

I lowered the phone and looked at Arthur.

The old man was watching me, his face shadowed by the dim light of the cabin.

“He was at the station,” Arthur said.

“At midnight.”

“He said he was at home,” I countered. “He must have just come in, or Miller called him before.”

“Maybe,” Arthur said.

He did not sound convinced.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, brass key.

It was the key that had opened the metal box where the ledger was hidden.

“Take this,” he said, pressing it into my palm.

“Why?” I asked. “I already have the ledger.”

“There is another box,” Arthur said.

“A smaller one, hidden in the floorboards of the workshop office.”

“Under the filing cabinet.”

“If things go wrong, Kiera, remember the key.”

I slipped the brass key into the small pocket of my jeans.

“Nothing is going to go wrong,” I said, trying to convince myself.

“The sheriff is involved now.”

I wrapped the thick ledger in a yellow kitchen towel.

I tucked it under my arm, holding it tightly against my ribs.