Chapter 6

Tuck gave me his hunting cabin outside Savannah and a 12-gauge shotgun I didn't know how to use. I left Micah safe with his sister, kissing his forehead while he slept, and drove back to the firehouse before dawn. Drew’s locker key felt warm and heavy in my palm.

The apparatus bay was dark and empty, smelling of wet asphalt and old smoke. I slipped into the silent locker room, my shoes squeaking against the tile. Drew’s old locker was in the far back corner beneath a buzzing bulb, still rusted, still tagged with his stenciled name. Sean had lied to me about clearing it.

I turned the notched brass key in the padlock. The latch clicked open.

Inside, hidden beneath a pair of old turnout boots, lay a black notebook wrapped in heavy plastic. The ledger. I opened it with shaking fingers. Pages of charity account numbers, deposits, and emergency withdrawals filled the front in Drew’s familiar handwriting. But right beside them were department requisition logs-bunker coats, thermal units, expired hoses-marked with initials I recognized instantly: R.W. Rawlings. Dates, inventory codes, kickbacks. It was the undeniable proof Drew died for.

I tucked the ledger against my chest and turned for the exit, but Sean stepped into the doorway. He looked ten years older than yesterday, his eyes hollow with exhaustion.

“I knew you’d find it,” he said quietly.

“You lied.”

“I was going to destroy it.” Sean held up empty, trembling hands. “I came here before dawn to burn it in the station furnace. Then I saw your car parked across the street.”

“Why, Sean? Why bury this?”

His face broke completely. “Because if Drew is a thief, Micah loses his father twice. First to fire, then to shame. I couldn't do that to him. I couldn't do that to you.”

“You took the money.”

“I put it back!” His voice rose in a ragged choke. “Every single cent from my own pocket. I’m not a thief, Nora. I’m a coward.”

I believed him. That was the worst part.

Then bright headlights swept the frosted windows. A black SUV pulled into the lot outside.

Sean turned toward the bay, his face draining of color. He moved directly in front of me, shielding me with his body. “Give me the ledger.”

“No.”

Rawlings walked in with two men behind him. He looked at the notebook in my hands and smiled like a man who had already won. “Mrs. Ellis,” he said. “You’re in over your head.”