Chapter 7 - REBECCA’S LAST PASSWORD
Rebecca’s old account still existed.
I hadn’t opened it in thirteen years.
Marcus placed the laptop in front of me inside an empty police conference room.
“Don’t type the old password.”
I didn’t.
Instead, I used the recovery key Rebecca had once written inside an anniversary card.
A joke at the time.
If I ever forget everything, remember this for me.
I had kept the card because widowers keep stupid things.
A receipt.
A grocery list.
A voicemail where someone says they’ll be home in twenty minutes.
The account opened.
Thirty-seven thousand emails.
Folders.
Tax documents.
Photographs.
Recipes.
Then a folder titled:
DANIEL — IF THINGS GO WRONG.
I stopped breathing.
Marcus whispered, “Open it.”
Inside were twelve files.
Most encrypted.
One video wasn’t.
I clicked.
Rebecca appeared on screen.
Alive.
Forty-three years old.
Sitting at our kitchen table.
My kitchen.
The date was eight days before she died.
“Daniel,” she began, “if you’re watching this, then I failed to keep something buried.”
I gripped the table.
“I’m sorry.”
Her voice cracked.
“I should have told you about Arthur.”
Marcus looked away.
Rebecca continued.
“I knew him before I knew you.”
My chest tightened.
“Arthur recruited me when I was twenty-two. I worked for one of his accounting firms. At first, I thought it was legitimate.”
She paused.
“It wasn’t.”
She explained how she had discovered hidden accounts.
Bribes.
Payments to public officials.
She tried to leave.
Arthur threatened her family.
So she went to the government.
She became Source Raven.
The confidential informant who built Glass Harbor from the inside.
Then came the part that shattered me.
“I didn’t know you would be assigned to the investigation.”
My hands shook.
“I fell in love with you before I knew. After that, every truth became dangerous.”
Rebecca looked directly into the camera.
“If Arthur ever comes back, he’ll want the ledger.”
She held up a small black notebook.
“The original account codes. Names. Politicians. Judges. Federal contacts.”
Marcus muttered something under his breath.
Rebecca continued.
“I never gave it to the Bureau because someone inside your task force was protecting him.”
I felt sick.
Someone I had worked beside.
Trusted.
Maybe still trusted.
“The ledger is not where Arthur thinks it is.”
Rebecca leaned closer.
“Daniel, think about where you promised me nothing bad could ever reach us.”
The video ended.
Marcus looked at me.
“You know what that means?”
I did.
Our cabin.
Blue Ridge.
The place I bought after Emily was born.
Rebecca called it our quiet place.
I had sold it nine years ago.
Or thought I had.
Marcus searched county records.
Then frowned.
“You didn’t sell it.”
“What?”
“The property transferred to an LLC.”
“Which one?”
He turned the screen.
Raven Ridge Holdings.
Rebecca.
She had created it four months before she died.
The cabin still belonged to her.
Then Detective Chen entered.
“We found the van.”
“Emily?”
“Not inside.”
“Where?”
“Abandoned near Route 29.”
She put a photograph on the desk.
Blood on the passenger seat.
My blood went cold.
Chen continued.
“There was also this.”
A piece of paper.
One line.
BRING THE LEDGER TO RAVEN RIDGE BEFORE MIDNIGHT.
Marcus stared at me.
“They know.”
I looked back at Rebecca’s frozen face on the laptop.
“No.”
“What?”
“They know the cabin.”
I stood.
“But they don’t know where she hid the ledger.”
Chen blocked the door.
“You are not going alone.”
“I’m not going to the cabin.”
Both stared at me.
I grabbed my coat.
“I’m going to the place Rebecca was actually talking about.”
Marcus frowned.
“What place?”
I remembered the promise.
Not the cabin.
The church behind it.
The day Emily was baptized.
Rebecca had stood beneath an old stone bell tower and whispered:
Nothing bad can reach us here.
I finally understood.
May you like
The ledger wasn’t inside the house.
It was under the church.
