The Secrets Hidden in My Daughter Bed and the Husband Who Lied
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.