An old wooden desk stood against the back wall, covered in a thin layer of grime.

I stood up, my joints cracking.

“Where are you going?” Sophia asked, not looking up from the screen.

“Emily spent time here,” I said. “She wouldn’t just leave a digital trail.”

I walked over to the desk.

The wood was rough under my fingertips.

I pulled open the top drawer.

A rusty spring rolled inside, but it was otherwise empty.

I tried the bottom drawer. It was locked.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my pocketknife.

I wedged the blade into the gap above the lock and pried upward.

The old wood groaned, then splintered with a sharp crack.

“Careful,” Sophia warned. “Every sound carries in this storm.”

“We don’t have much time,” I said.

I pulled the drawer open.

Inside lay a stack of faded manila folders and a black leather ledger.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

I picked up the ledger and opened the cover.

The handwriting inside was hasty, scribbled in dark blue ink.

It wasn’t Emily’s writing.

It belonged to my brother, Caleb.