I dug my fingernails into the narrow gap between the planks and pulled upward.

The wood resisted at first, held in place by years of dirt, then it yielded with a dry groan.

I lifted the board and set it aside.

Beneath it was a dark, shallow cavity in the dirt.

I reached my hand into the freezing space, my fingers brushing against cold earth, cobwebs, and then something hard and flat.

It was a thick, leather-bound book.

I pulled it out into the dim light of the bare bulb.

The cover was dark brown leather, cracked and peeling at the corners, held shut by a tarnished brass clasp.

The word *Ledger* was stamped into the leather in faded gold lettering.

I opened the clasp, my fingers shaking so badly I almost dropped it.

The pages inside were filled with neat, dense handwriting in black ink.

They were medical records, dates, and names.

I flipped through the early pages, my eyes scanning the columns.

*October 14th. Patient: Henderson, Robert. Procedure: Exploratory laparotomy.*

I turned the pages faster, the paper dry and rasping under my fingers.