Chapter 22
Kara sat at the edge of Colin’s couch, the ledger open across her lap, hesitating for a moment, then pulled out her phone.
Carefully, she angled the book and snapped a few photos—clear shots of the columns, the dates, the initials.
She flipped a page, took another, then another, making sure the entries were readable.
Her thumb hovered over her messages for a second before she tapped the contact.
Jenna was good with patterns in a way Kara wasn’t. If anyone could make sense of this without asking too many questions, it was her. Kara attached the photos, then paused, thinking about how much to say.
Kara hit send before she could overthink it.
“Do you trust her?” he asked.
“As much as I could trust anyone right now.”
? ? ?
Zoe’s kitchen smelled like garlic and thyme, something warm simmering on the stove. Sunlight poured through the windows, catching on clean countertops.
Kara sat at the small table, fingers loosely wrapped around a glass of water she hadn’t really touched. Across from her, Zoe moved easily between the counter and the stove.
“You look tired,” Zoe said, glancing over her shoulder.
Kara huffed. “Didn’t sleep much.”
“That house is still giving you spooky vibes?” Zoe asked lightly, like it was a joke. Like it was something that could be shrugged off.
Then she nodded, keeping it simple. “Yeah. A little.”
Zoe turned the stove off, grabbed two plates, bringing them over to the table. “You should’ve come here,” she said, setting one in front of Kara. “I told you, you don’t have to stay out there by yourself.”
“I didn’t,” Kara said before she could stop herself.
Zoe, who was placing the hot pan at the center of the table, paused mid-motion, brows lifting. “You didn’t?”
Kara forced herself to stay casual, picking up the serving fork even though her appetite hadn’t caught up. “I stayed at Colin’s last night.”
Zoe blinked once, processing, then leaned back slightly in her chair. “Colin’s?” she repeated, a hint of something unreadable slipping into her tone. “Since when are you two doing sleepovers?”
“It wasn’t like that,” Kara said quickly. “I just didn’t want to be in the house, and he offered. That’s all.”
Zoe studied her for a beat longer than was comfortable, like she was deciding whether to push, but then she didn’t.
“Okay,” she said, drawing the word out just slightly before letting it go. “Well, you could stay here instead. I’ve got the spare room. It’s not fancy, but at least you wouldn’t be alone or have more sleepovers with Colin.”
Her sister's house felt like a real home; it was filled with noise and light and things that made sense. That wasn’t what Kara needed right now.
“I appreciate it,” she said carefully, setting her fork down. “But I’ve got work I need to catch up on. I fell behind, and there’s some paperwork I need to go through. It’s easier if I just have my own space.”
Zoe frowned slightly. “You can work here.”
“I know,” Kara said, offering a small, apologetic smile. “I just—focus better on my own. You know how I get it.”
That, at least, wasn’t a lie. Zoe exhaled through her nose, not fully convinced but not arguing either. “Fine. I don’t love the idea of you being alone if something’s bothering you.”
“I won’t be,” Kara said, the decision settling into place as she spoke it. “I’m going to check back into the hotel.”
“The hotel?”
It seemed like the better choice. Better than staying at Colin’s house, where she’d spend most of the day alone while he worked. Besides, she had no desire to give the town another reason to talk.
Her sister considered, her shoulders easing just slightly. “Okay… yeah. That actually makes me feel a little better.”
“Me too,” Kara admitted, proud of herself for the sudden idea.
They ate and caught up as the old radio on the windowsill crackled through a country song neither of them truly heard. Zoe filled two glasses with white wine, the clink of glass punctuating the easy rhythm of conversation.
“You know,” Kara said, “I've been thinking.”
“That usually means trouble.”
A faint smile tugged at Kara's lips.
“Probably.”
“Do you remember when Dad was admitted to the hospital the last time?”
Zoe frowned. “The last time?”
“Yeah.” Kara shrugged, keeping her voice light. “I was trying to remember how long he'd actually been sick before…” She let the sentence trail off.
Zoe's expression softened. “It all kind of blurred together near the end.”
“I know.”
There was a brief silence.
“Hmm.” Zoe looked toward the kitchen pantry door as if the answer might be written there. “Late September? No. Wait.” She shook her head. “It was the first week of October.”
“You sure?”
“I'm pretty sure." Zoe crossed her arms, thinking harder. “Actually, yeah. It had to be. Remember? Izzy was a few days old when Dad collapsed.”
The first week of October.
Exactly where the entries in the ledger stopped.
She forced herself to take a sip before speaking again.
“And after that, he never came home?”
“No. They transferred him between the hospital and the rehab facility, but he was never well enough to come back. What brought this on?” Zoe asked, narrowing her eyes.
Kara hadn't meant to make it obvious. “I don't know,” she shrugged, staring down at the condensation forming on the glass. “I guess coming back here has me wanting to remember things”.
The conversation drifted to something else—groceries, her sister's fall plans, whether Peter still wanted pancakes for dinner—but Kara barely heard a word.
Another detail had surfaced. The entries stopped abruptly, the exact week George had been admitted to the hospital, and he eventually entered hospice.
That couldn't be a coincidence.
Colin didn’t argue when she told him. They stood just outside his restaurant, the low bustle of lunch traffic filtering out through the door behind him. He listened, arms crossed, eyes fixed on her in that steady way of his.
“The hotel’s not a bad call,” he said after a moment. “Plenty of people around. Staff. Cameras.”
Kara nodded.
He glanced down the street briefly, like he was mapping it out in his head, then looked back at her. “I’ve got a full schedule today. I wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on things even if I wanted to.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s kind of the point.”
A corner of his mouth lifted faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I still don’t like it.”
“I don’t either,” Kara said honestly. “But it’s better than the alternative.”
“Alright,” Colin said finally. “You check in, keep your phone on you. If anything feels off—even a little—you call me. Don’t second-guess it.”
“I won’t,” she said.
The hotel lobby buzzed with quiet movement—rolling suitcases, low conversations, the soft ding of the elevator.
Kara stood at the front desk, signing in again. The clerk handed over a key card with a polite smile. By the time she reached her room, some of the tightness in her chest had eased. She set her bag down on the bed, exhaling slowly before pulling her phone from her pocket.
Isaac’s name sat at the top of her messages. Then she typed :
Hey, just checking in. I ended up switching back to the hotel for a few days—figured it’d be easier with work and everything going on here. All good, just busy. I’ll call you later.
Kara stared at the message for a moment. Her thumb hovered briefly before she hit send. She set the phone down, glancing around the room—the neatly made bed, the drawn curtains, the quiet, comforting whir of the air conditioning.
Kara sat cross-legged on the bed, her laptop open in front of her, the glow of the screen washing over her face. Her fingers hovered over the trackpad as she cross-referenced two entries—same account, same week, slightly different totals.
Kara leaned in closer. She flipped to another page, scanning faster now. Her eyes adjusted, picking up patterns she hadn’t seen before. A date shifted by two days.
Her phone buzzed beside her, breaking the thread of thought. Still staring at the numbers, her brain trying to connect something just out of reach.
Kara answered. “Yeah?”
“Did you get what I sent?” her assistant asked.
“Checking now,” Kara said, eyes still flicking to her emails. Scanning the document. “You are a genius.”
“I figured you’d say that.”
“These numbers—” Kara stopped, choosing her words carefully. “These are purchases for a product.”
“That’s what it looked like to me,” her assistant said. “Do you want me to dig further?”
“No,” Kara said immediately. “Leave it exactly as it is.”
“Okay…”
Kara could hear the hesitation now.
“What?” she asked.
“It’s just…” her assistant exhaled softly. “You’ve got the Halbrook file due tomorrow. And the client already called twice today.”
Kara closed her eyes briefly.
Right. Her actual job.
“I didn’t forget,” she said, though the slight delay said otherwise.
“Mhm,” her assistant replied, not buying it. “Do you want me to stall him again or—?”
“No. Send me everything you have. I’ll handle it.”
“Are you sure? I can—”
“I’ve got it,” Kara cut in, more firmly this time. "I'll forward the full file now.”
The call ended, and almost immediately, her inbox pinged.
Kara stared at the notification for a second, the weight of it settling in.
Two worlds. One, she was supposed to be focused on— and the other—the mysterious ledger.
Her mind was split along with her screen.
Numbers on one side. Legal documents on the other side.
She forced herself to click into the Halbrook file, scrolling through contracts, notes, timelines. It was familiar territory. This was what she did. What she was good at. But even as she read, her attention pulled—again and again—back to the ledger. Her cursor hovered over a clause in the contract.
She read the same line twice.