Chapter 9 - The Phantom's Ledger-9
Inside the dark cavity of the safe sat a single, dust-covered black hard drive, alongside a thick, leather-bound ledger tied with a faded red ribbon.
I reached in, my fingers brushing against the cold metal of the drive. A sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion hit me—a wave of grief, love, and fury for Julian Vance, the young man who had sacrificed his life, his family, and his identity to expose the truth.
"Is that it?" Arthur asked, leaning over my shoulder, his beam of light focused on the ledger.
I pulled the ledger out, untying the ribbon, and opened it to the first page.
The handwriting was neat, precise, and unmistakably Julian's. But as I flipped through the pages, my eyes caught a section dated three days after Julian’s supposed death in the ravine.
My heart stopped beating.
"Dad..." I whispered, my voice trembling. "Look at this date."
Arthur leaned closer, his eyes scanning the page. "October 14th... but... Julian's crash was October 11th..."
"He didn't just escape," I gasped, turning the pages rapidly. "Julian stayed in this town for two weeks after the crash! He was hiding right under Thomas's nose!"
I read the entries aloud, my voice echoing in the damp basement:
October 15th: I survived the crash thanks to Emma's help. My father thinks I am dead. He burnt a stranger in my car. God forgive him. But I cannot leave Ohio yet. I discovered something far worse than the chemical dumping. My father isn't working alone. He has a partner in Washington—a federal director who is protecting the plant from EPA audits in exchange for offshore payments.
Arthur gasped, grabbing the edge of the safe to steady himself. "A federal director...? Thomas was paying off federal agents?!"
"It gets worse," I said, flipping to the final page of the ledger.
October 22nd: I am leaving for Europe tonight. I cannot risk dragging Emma deeper into this nightmare. But if you are reading this, Emma, know that I left the master encryption key with the one person my father could never bribe, the one person who knows where the money is buried.
I stopped reading.
"Who?" Arthur begged, his voice high-pitched with desperation. "Who is the person?!"
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"It doesn't say a name," I whispered, staring at the blank space at the bottom of the page. "It just says: 'Ask the girl who sits by the river.'"
Before Arthur could speak, a loud, metallic SLAM echoed from the top of the basement stairs, followed by the heavy sound of a deadbolt sliding into place!
